phil may's gutter-snipes the impressions herein are extra carefully printed as _proofs_ on fine paper, and the issue is limited to one thousand and fifty copies, of which this is no. =462=. a paper-covered edition, on thinner paper, at a popular price, will follow. [illustration: grace!] [illustration] phil may's gutter-snipes 50 original sketches in pen & ink. london: the leadenhall press, limited. (these sketches xxhave beenxx are separately copyrighted) copyright 1896 in the united states of america by the macmillan company. [illustration: dedication this to that.] drawings 1 grace! frontispiece 2 title. 3 dedication. 4 introduction. 5 shuttlecock. 6 a gutter-ball. 7 playing at soldiers. 8 water-works. 9 a game at ball. 10 longing for lickings. 11 luxuries. 12 "orrible and re-voltin' details, sir!" 13 plunderers. 14 lost. 15 homeless. 16 the slide. 17 the first smoke. 18 brother artists. 19 bits & scraps. 20 peg-top. 21 tantalizing! 22 see-saw. 23 honey-pots. 24 snowballing. 25 "box o' lights, my lord?" 26 mudlarks. 27 a swell. 28 buttons. 29 fairies. 30 "whip-behind." 31 "will it be me?" 32 "'ear y'are sir!" 33 "three shies a penny." 34 "give us a bite." 35 what betsy-ann makes of it. 36 hop-scotch. 37 marbles. 38 old friends. 39 an adept. 40 "remember, remember!" 41 playing at horses. 42 "sweep your door away, mum?" 43 a day in the country. 44 hide & seek. 45 two pennorth. 46 rugby rules. 47 little mothers. 48 whistling the last new tune. 49 a misunderstanding. 50 leap-frog. 51 bob-in-the-cap. 52 tip-cat. 53 acrobats. 54 gutter gymnastics. [illustration: andrew tuer] june 30th. 96. my dear tuer here is the last of the gutter snipe drawings and sorry i am to leave them! children of the gutter roam about free and are often hungry, but what would one give for such appetites? you and i smoke big cigars while they--all too soon, poor little chaps--smoke what you and i and others throw away. sometimes i wonder whether they don't lead the happier lives? yours always phil may [illustration: phil may] [illustration: shuttlecock.] * * * * * [illustration: a gutter-ball.] * * * * * [illustration: playing at soldiers.] * * * * * [illustration: water-works.] * * * * * [illustration: a game at ball.] * * * * * [illustration: longing for lickings.] * * * * * [illustration: boy. "no? why don't you =never= treat yourself to no luxuries, guvner?"] * * * * * [illustration: "orrible and re-voltin' details, sir!"] * * * * * [illustration: plunderers.] * * * * * [illustration: lost] * * * * * [illustration: homeless] * * * * * [illustration: the slide.] * * * * * [illustration: the first smoke.] * * * * * [illustration: brother artists.] * * * * * [illustration: bits & scraps.] * * * * * [illustration: peg-top.] * * * * * [illustration: tantalizing!] * * * * * [illustration: see-saw] * * * * * [illustration: honey-pots] * * * * * [illustration: snowballing.] * * * * * [illustration: "box o' lights my lord?"] * * * * * [illustration: mudlarks. "chuck us a copper!"] * * * * * [illustration: a swell.] * * * * * [illustration: buttons.] * * * * * [illustration: fairies.] * * * * * [illustration: "whip-behind."] * * * * * [illustration: "will it be me?"] * * * * * [illustration: "'ear y'are sir!"] * * * * * [illustration: "three shies a penny."] * * * * * [illustration: "give us a bite."] * * * * * [illustration: =what betsy-ann makes of it.= departing guest. "will you call me a cab?" betsy-ann. "ansom, four-wheeler or mover, sir?" (a =times= correspondent suggests that the horseless carriage be called an "auto-mover")] * * * * * [illustration: hop-scotch.] * * * * * [illustration: marbles.] * * * * * [illustration: old friends.] * * * * * [illustration: an adept.] * * * * * [illustration: "remember remember!"] * * * * * [illustration: playing at horses.] * * * * * [illustration: "sweep your door away mum?"] * * * * * [illustration: little mothers.] * * * * * [illustration: whistling the last new tune.] * * * * * [illustration: a misunderstanding.] * * * * * [illustration: leap-frog.] * * * * * [illustration: a day in the country.] * * * * * [illustration: hide & seek.] * * * * * [illustration: two pennorth.] * * * * * [illustration: rugby rules.] * * * * * [illustration: bob-in-the-cap.] * * * * * [illustration: tip-cat.] * * * * * [illustration: acrobats.] * * * * * [illustration: gutter gymnasts.] phil may's [illustration: a b c] fifty-two original designs forming two humorous alphabets from a to z london the leadenhall press limited. _each initial has been separately copyrighted._ ready in january transcriber's notes: punctuation and formatting markup have been normalized. apparent printer's errors have been retained. the words struck out on the title page have been surrounded by "xx" to show the strikethrough. underlined words and passages have been surrounded by "=". tags for illustrations appear in the same order as the original. in some cases, this varies from the order stated in the table of drawings. page 12, period added. (you and i smoke big cigars while they--all too soon, poor little chaps--smoke what you and i and others throw away.) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 28003-h.htm or 28003-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/0/28003/28003-h/28003-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/0/28003/28003-h.zip) supplement to "punch, or the london charivari" september 16, 1914. the new rake's progress cartoons from "punch" illustrating the kaiser's career, 1888-1914. "punch" office, 10, bouverie street, london, e.c. * * * * * illustration: _german kaiser._ "let us prey." _sept. 9, 1914._ * * * * * illustration: a wise warning. dædalus bismarck (_political parent of_ wilhelm icarus). "my son, observe the middle path to fly, and fear to sink too low, or rise too high. here the sun melts, there vapours damp your force, between the two extremes direct your course." "nor on the bear, nor on boötes gaze, nor on sword-arm'd orion's dangerous rays: but follow me, thy guide, with watchful sight, and, as i steer, direct thy cautious flight." ovid, _"metamorphoses," book viii., fable iii._ _october 6, 1888._ * * * *** =the kaiser is warned by the great chancellor.= * * * * * illustration: l'enfant terrible. chorus in the stern. "don't go on like that--or you'll upset us all!" _may 10, 1890._ * * * *** =the kaiser begins to alarm his fellow rulers.= * * * * * illustration: the imperial jack-in-the-box. _chorus_ (_everybody_). "everything in order everywhere! o! what a surprise! sold again!" _january 30, 1892._ * * * *** =the kaiser has a finger in every german pie.= * * * * * illustration: the modern alexander's feast; or, the power of sound. "with ravished ears, the monarch hears, assumes the god, affects to nod, and seems to shake the spheres!" _march 5, 1892._ * * * *** =the kaiser feels his feet. this cartoon caused _punch_ to be excluded for a while from the imperial palace.= * * * * * illustration: the story of fidgety wilhelm. (_up-to-date version of "struwwelpeter."_) "let me see if wilhelm can be a little gentleman; let me see if he is able to sit still for once at table!" "but fidgety will he _won't_ sit still." just like any bucking horse. "wilhelm! we are getting cross!" _february 1, 1896._ * * * *** =the kaiser worries his friends of the triple alliance.= * * * * * illustration: a new rôle. _imperial "manager-actor"_ (_who has cast himself for a leading part in "un voyage en chine," sotto voce_). "um--ha! with just a few additional touches here and there, i shall make a first-rate emperor of china!" _january 15, 1898._ * * * *** =the kaiser prepares for china.= * * * * * cook's crusader. _imperial knight templar_ (_the german emperor--to_ saladin). "_what!!_ the christian powers putting pressure upon _you_, my dear friend!! horrible! i can't think how people can do such things!" _october 15, 1898._ * * * *** =the kaiser sympathises with the turk.= * * * * * illustration: on tour. (_tangier, march 31._) kaiser wilhelm (_as the moor of potsdam_) _sings_:- "'unter den linden'--always at home, 'under the lime-light' wherever i roam!" _april 5, 1905._ * * * *** =the kaiser woos morocco.= * * * * * illustration: not in the picture. scene--_on shore, during the visit of the british fleet to brest._ mr. punch (_photographer, suavely, to the_ kaiser). "just a leetle further back, please, sir. your shadow still rather interferes with the group." _july 12, 1905._ * * * *** =the kaiser (not for the first time) is out of it with england and france.= * * * * * illustration: the sower of tares. (_after millais._) _august 23, 1905._ * * * *** =the kaiser as enemy of europe.= * * * * * illustration: "isolation." peace (_attending the inter-parliamentary congress at berlin_). "everybody else seems to be my friend; why do you stand aloof?" german kaiser. "but haven't i always said that i was your friend?" peace. "yes; but can't you do something to prove it?" _september 23, 1908._ * * * *** =the kaiser as the platonic friend of peace.= * * * * * illustration: the teutonising of turkey. german kaiser. "good bird!" _october 5, 1910._ * * * *** =the kaiser takes turkey in hand.= * * * * * illustration: harmony. [the german emperor has been patronising the centenary of krupp's gun factory.] _august 14, 1912._ * * * *** =the kaiser prepares for the millennium (prussian version).= * * * * * illustration: the coming of the cossacks. wilhelm ii. "what is this distant rumbling that i hear? doubtless the plaudits of my people!" _august 26, 1914._ * * * *** =the kaiser deludes himself.= * * * * * illustration: the world's enemy. the kaiser. "who goes there?" spirit of carnage. "a friend--your only one." _august 19, 1914._ * * * *** =the kaiser as the foe of humanity.= * * * * * bradbury, agnew & co., printers. london & tonbridge. file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by microsoft for their live search books site.) [illustration] confessions _of a_ caricaturist by oliver herford new york · charles scribner's sons 1917 copyright, 1917, by charles scribner's sons published september, 1917 to william dean howells [illustration] contents page william dean howells 3 napoleon 4 dante 6 theodore roosevelt 8 rudyard kipling 10 ignace jan paderewski 12 daniel frohman 14 charles w. eliot 16 j. pierpont morgan 18 gilbert k. chesterton 20 guglielmo marconi 22 george bernard shaw 24 brander matthews 26 john s. sargent 28 arnold bennett 30 shakespeare 32 william howard taft 34 g. k. chesterton 36 david belasco 38 henrik ibsen 40 j. forbes-robertson 42 john drew 44 israel zangwill 46 george bernard shaw 48 peter dunne 50 saint paul 52 john d. rockefeller 54 hiram maxim 56 george ade 58 christopher columbus 60 f. w. hohenzollern 62 hafiz 65 confessions _of a_ caricaturist william dean howells not squirrels in the park alone his love and winter-kindness own. when literary fledglings try their wings, in first attempt to fly, they flutter down to franklin square, where howells in his "easy chair" like good saint francis scatters crumbs of hope, to each small bird that comes. and since bread, cast upon the main, must to the giver come again, i tender now, long overtime, this humble crumb of grateful rhyme. (see frontispiece) napoleon i like to draw napoleon best because one hand is in his vest, the other hand behind his back. (for drawing hands i have no knack.) [illustration] dante if you should ask me, whether dante drank benedictine or chianti, i should reply, "i cannot say, but i can draw him either way." [illustration] theodore roosevelt the ways of providence are odd. if theodore means "the gift of god," let us give thanks, at any rate, the gift was not a duplicate. _aside_ (to t. r) dear theodore, should it give you pain to read this rhyme, let me explain. if we 'exchanged' you, where on earth could we find one of equal worth? o. h. [illustration] rudyard kipling i seem to see a shining one, with eyes that gleam, now fierce, now tender, through goggles that reflect the sun "with more than oriental splendor"; i see him sitting on a chest heavy with padlocks, bolts, and cording, where untold treasures hidden rest, treasures of untold yarns he's hoarding. oh, rudyard, please unlock that chest! with hope deferred we're growing hoary; or was it all an empty jest your saying, "_that's another story_"? [illustration] ignace jan paderewski when paderewski is forgot, our children's children, like as not, will worship in the hall of fame, some great piano-maker's name. [illustration] daniel frohman i love to picture daniel frohman in costume of a noble roman. for dan has just the style of hair, that julius cæsar used to wear. [illustration] charles w. eliot and now comes dr. eliot stating that hell won't bear investigating. it looks like charlie's out to bust the great hell-fire insurance trust. [illustration] j. pierpont morgan in rome, when morgan came to town, they nailed the colosseum down. a great collector! once his fad was coins, but when in time he had collected all the coin in sight, to europe's art his thoughts took flight. but let not europe palpitate for fear of an art syndicate. there are more rembrandts, strange to say, than ever were in rembrandt's day; and statues "planted" in the sand will always equal the demand. [illustration] gilbert k. chesterton unless i'm very much misled, chesterton's easier done than said. i have not seen him, but his looks i can imagine from his books. [illustration] guglielmo marconi i like marconi best to see beneath a macaroni tree playing that nocturne in f sharp by chopin, on a wireless harp. [illustration] george bernard shaw the very name of bernard shaw fills me with mingled mirth and awe. mixture of mephistopheles, don quixote, and diogenes, the devil's wit, the don's romance joined to the cynic's arrogance. framed on pythagorean plan, a vegetable souperman. here you may see him crown with bay the greatest playwright of his day;[1] observe the look of self distrust and diffidence--upon the bust. [1] for "his" read any.--g. b. s. [illustration] brander matthews i'd best beware how i make free with brander matthews l. l. d. since prexy wilson's paved the way he may be president some day. [illustration] john s. sargent here's sargent doing the duchess x in pink velours and pea-green checks. "it helps," says he, "to lift your grace a bit above the commonplace." [illustration] arnold bennett 'tis very comforting to know that every other day or so a book by bennett will appear to charm the western hemisphere. i see him now, with zeal sublime, pounding from dawn to dinner-time four typewriters, with hands and feet. when the four novels are complete, he'll fold, and send _à grande vitesse_ his quadrumanuscript to press. p. s. just think how much we'd have to read if bennett were a centipede o. h. [illustration] shakespeare will shakespeare, the baconians say, was the belasco of his day- others more plausibly maintain he was the double of hall caine. [illustration] william howard taft i'm sorry william taft is out of politics; without a doubt of all the presidential crew he was the easiest to do. [illustration] g. k. chesterton when plain folk, such as you or i, see the sun sinking in the sky, we think it is the setting sun, but mr. gilbert chesterton is not so easily misled. he calmly stands upon his head, and upside down obtains a new and chestertonian point of view, observing thus, how from his toes the sun creeps nearer to his nose, he cries with wonder and delight, "how grand the sunrise is to-night!" [illustration] david belasco behold belasco in his den, wielding the scissors, paste and pen, and writing with consummate skill a play by w. de mille. [illustration] henrik ibsen i once drew ibsen, looking bored across a deep norwegian fjord, and very nearly every one mistook him for the midnight sun. [illustration] j. forbes-robertson i'm told the artist who aspires to draw forbes-robertson requires a sargent's brush. dear me! how sad! i've lost the only one i had. [illustration] john drew for perfect form there are but few that can compare with mr. drew; a form most fittingly displayed in rôles from london, tailor-made by messrs. maughn, pinero, jones, in quiet, gentlemanly tones. the _nouveaux-riches_ flock, day by day, to learn from john how to display (without unnecessary gloom) the manners of the drawing-room. this possibly may be the cause (or one of them) why john drew draws. [illustration] israel zangwill this picture though it is not much like zangwill, is not void of worth it has one true zangwillian touch it looks like nothing else on earth. [illustration] george bernard shaw george bernard shaw--oh, yes, i know i did him not so long ago. but then, you see, i _like_ to do george bernard shaw (george likes it too). [illustration] peter dunne _by the harp_ "shpeaking of harps, sure me frind pete has got the harp of tara beat," said mr. dooley. "div'l a thing that boy can't play upon won shtring. for all the wurrld, to hear him play you'd think 'twas a whole orchestray. great shtatesmen come from far and near and shtop their talking, just to hear him harp upon the latest kinks in politics and social jinks. niver was such a music sharp, i'd orter know, sure _i'm_ the harp." [illustration] saint paul it saddens me to think saint paul such lengthy letters had to scrawl. and so to make his labor lighter i picture him with a typewriter. [illustration] john d. rockefeller few faces interest me less than rockefeller's, i confess. 'twould vastly better suit my whim to draw his bank account, than him. [illustration] hiram maxim from hiram maxim's hair you'd think his specialty was spilling ink- you'd never dream he'd spilt more blood than any one man since the flood. [illustration] george ade somehow i always like to think of georgeade as a summer drink, sparkling and cool, with just a tang of pleasant effervescent slang; a wholesome tonic, without question, and cure for moral indigestion. in summer-time, beneath the shade, we find refreshment in georgeade. and 'mid the scorching city's roar we drink him up and call for more. i often wonder what the "trade" buys half so precious as georgeade. [illustration] christopher columbus columbus is an easy one to draw, for when the picture's done, where is the captious critic who can say the likeness is not true? [illustration] f. w. hohenzollern in things like this i've always tried to look upon the brighter side; and when i see the prince, i say "the crown's worth _something_ anyway." [illustration] [illustration: _picture of o. h. and hafiz, the "persian kitten," by james montgomery flagg._] [illustration] hafiz when hafiz saw the portrait free, by monty flagg, of him and me, he made remarks one can't repeat in any reputable sheet. the unspeakable turk. * * * * * [illustration: the status quo. turkey. "will you not still befriend me?" britannia. "befriend you?--not with your hands of _that colour_!" _september 9, 1876._] england indignantly protests against the atrocities committed by the turk in bulgaria. * * * * * "punch" office, 10 bouverie street, london, e.c. * * * * * [illustration: one bubble more!! _january 6, 1877._] the turk, once again, makes illusory promises of reform. * * * * * [illustration: everybody's friend! _march 2, 1878._] during the russo-turkish war a strict neutrality is preserved by germany. she is now the "friend" of the turk. * * * * * [illustration: the sublime "super"! (rehearsal of grand military drama.) stage manager. "what are _you_ to do, sir? why, get well to the back, and--_wave your banner_!!!" _september 16, 1882._] the turk makes a great show of denouncing the revolt of arabi in egypt. he is not taken very seriously. * * * * * [illustration: cooped up! _october 26, 1889._] the powers, despite the protests of greece, leave it to the turk to restore order in the island of crete. * * * * * [illustration: "deeds--not words!" john bull. "look here,--we've had enough of your palaver! are you going to let the girl go, or have we got to make you?" _june 15, 1895._] the barbarous treatment of armenia by the turk compels the intervention of england, france and russia. * * * * * [illustration: a free hand. the unspeakable turk. "ha, ha. there's no one about! i can get to business again."] _january 18, 1896._] while england is absorbed elsewhere the turk takes the opportunity to commit further outrages in armenia. * * * * * [illustration: a turkish bath. sultan. "they gave it me pretty hot in that armenian room! but--bismillah! this is----phew!!"] _august 22, 1896._] a very "sick man" is the turk. he goes from bad to worse. * * * * * [illustration: "turkey limited." sultan. "make me into a limited company? h'm--ah--s'pose they'll allow me to join the board after allotment!" _november 28, 1896._] the powers consider the advisability of placing the turk "under control." * * * * * [illustration: tender mercies! dame europa (_to_ little crete). "don't cry, my little man. i've asked this nice, kind turkish policeman to stay and take care of you!" _march 13, 1897._] the turk is given another chance to mend his ways. * * * * * [illustration: the slave of duty! admiral john bull. "now then, out you'll have to go!" the unspeakable. "what! leave my beautiful crete in a state of disorder? _never!_" _september 24, 1898._] the incorrigible turk is deprived of his power to misrule in crete. he is consoled by germany. * * * * * [illustration: the mitylene march. (solo for the french horn.) the sultan. "i don't like solos! give me the good old-fashioned european concerto!" _november 13, 1901._] france sends a fleet to mitylene and compels the turk to respect the rights of certain french subjects. * * * * * [illustration: between russia and the deep sea. _september 9, 1903._] trouble again confronts the turk. macedonia, weary of his oppression, rises in revolt. russia keeps an eye upon him. * * * * * [illustration: the optimist. abdul hamid. "what, all the fleets coming here? that _will_ be fun! i _do_ hope they'll have fireworks!" _november 22, 1905._] the powers decide on a naval demonstration to compel the turk to settle the macedonian difficulty. * * * * * [illustration: out of bounds. john bull. "shoo! shoo!" _may 9, 1906._] the turk tries to grab a bit of egypt, but his bluster is unsuccessful. under pressure he retires, as usual. * * * * * [illustration: the throne perilous. _july 29, 1908._] the condition of the turk is very critical. internal disorders indicate a serious danger of collapse. * * * * * [illustration: the salt-water cure. shah of persia. "go on in, abdul--just for the look of the thing. you can always come out if you don't like it." sick man of europe. "yes, i know. but one gets so wet!" _august 12, 1908._] the turk makes another specious effort to amend his constitution. * * * * * [illustration: at last! _november 27, 1912._] the liberation of macedonia from the tyranny of the turk is, at last, accomplished. * * * * * [illustration: armageddon: a diversion. turkey. "good! if only all those other christian nations get at one another's throats, i may have a dog's chance yet." _december 4, 1912._] the turk still has a gleam of hope. * * * * * [illustration: no effects. balkan leaguer. "it's your money we want." turkey. "money, dear boy? search me!" _march 26, 1913._] the ever impecunious turk. * * * * * [illustration: settled. dame europa. "you've always been the most troublesome boy in the school. now go and consolidate yourself." turkey. "please, ma'am, what does that mean?" dame europa. "it means going into that corner--and stopping there!" _april 2, 1913._] the turk is driven to confine his energies to asia minor. * * * * * [illustration: "deutschland ueber alles." king of the hellenes. "our success was, as you know, entirely due to you." german emperor. "thanks, thanks." (_aside_) "i suppose he can't be referring to our organisation of the _turkish_ army." _september 17, 1913._] the decisive defeat of the turk by the greeks and their allies is a bitter blow to germany. * * * * * [illustration: another peace conference. turkey (_to greece_). "aha! my young friend, alone at last! now we can arrange a really nice treaty." _october 8, 1913._] the turk makes a desperate effort to get greece into a quiet corner. * * * * * [illustration: his master's voice. the kaiser (_to turkey, reassuringly_). "leave everything to me. all you've got to do is to explode." turkey. "yes, i quite see that. but where shall _i_ be when it's all over?" _november 11, 1914._] there is, indeed, no health in the turk. * * * * * transcriber's note: bold type is indicated thus: =the prussian bully.= and italics so: _1857-1914._ supplement to "punch, or the london charivari."--october 14, 1914. "punch" and the prussian bully * * * * * illustration: _january 10, 1857._ *** =the prussian bully disturbs the peace of europe.= _1857-1914._ "punch" office, 10 bouverie street, london, e.c. * * * * * illustration: =the reward of (de)merit.= king punch presenteth prussia with the order of "st. gibbet." _may 7, 1864._ * * * *** =the prussian bully tears up a "scrap of paper" pledging him to respect the integrity of denmark.= * * * * * illustration: =jack on the crisis.= "blow it, bill! we can't be expected to _fight_ a lot o' lubberly swabs like him. we'll _kick_ 'em, if that'll do." _july 2, 1864._ * * * *** =the prussian bully gives great offence to england.= * * * * * illustration: =brigands dividing the spoils.= _august 13, 1864._ * * * *** =the prussian bully takes his share of the plunder.= * * * * * illustration: =check to the king.= _bismarck_ (_reads from 3,000 citizens of cologne_). "in view of the miserable condition of the country in view of a civil war, with its attendant sufferings and fearful calamities ... we couch a solemn protest against engaging in such a war...." _king of prussia._ "what is that? dare my subjects object to be slaughtered! what next, i wonder?" _june 2, 1866._ * * * *** =the prussian bully declares his intention of making war on austria.= * * * * * illustration: =peace--and no pieces!= bismarck. "pardon, mon ami; but we really can't allow you to pick up anything here." nap (_the chiffonnier_). "pray don't mention it, m'sieu! it's not of the slightest consequence." _august 25, 1866._ * * * *** =the prussian bully refuses to allow france to rectify her frontier.= * * * * * illustration: ="to be sold."= _emperor napoleon:_ "i-a-have made an offer to my friend here, and...." _the man in possession:_ "no, have you, though? i rather think i was the party to apply to." _emperor napoleon:_ "oh, indeed! ah! then in that case i'll--but it's of no consequence." _may 4, 1867._ * * * *** =the prussian bully objects to being turned out of luxemburg.= * * * * * illustration: =gaul to the new cæsar.= "defiance, emperor, while i have strength to hurl it!" _december 17, 1870._ * * * *** =the prussian bully has no pity for france.= * * * * * illustration: =excessive bail.= _justice_ (_to bismarck_). "your client was assaulted, and you ask that the defendant 'shall be bound over to keep the peace for many years.' but i cannot sanction a demand for exorbitant securities." _february 18, 1871._ * * * *** =the prussian bully demands from france the cession of alsace and lorraine and an indemnity of £200,000,000.= * * * * * illustration: =enter bismarck.= "i speak of peace, while covert enmity, under the smile of safety, wounds the world; and who but 'bismarck,' who but only i, make fearful musters and prepared defence." _henry the fourth, part ii._ (_induction._) _february 18, 1888._ * * * *** =the prussian bully speaks of peace and prepares for war.= * * * * * illustration: =dropping the pilot.= _march 29, 1890._ * * * *** =the prussian bully has no further use for prince bismarck.= * * * * * illustration: ="nana would not give me a bow-wow!"= [the german emperor is reported to have said, "it was impossible for me to anticipate the rejection of the army bills, so fully did i rely upon the patriotism of the imperial diet to accept them unreservedly. a patriotic minority has been unable to prevail against the majority ... i was compelled to resort to a dissolution, and i look forward to the acceptance of the bills by the new reichstag. should this expectation be again disappointed, i am determined to use every means in my power to achieve my purpose."--_the times._] _may 20, 1893._ * * * *** =the prussian bully complains that he cannot have it all his own way.= * * * * * illustration: =his favorite subject.= _imperial artist._ "wish i could have got it done in time for the royal academy. sure to have been accepted." _may 4, 1895._ * * * *** =the prussian bully paints himself in divine colours.= * * * * * illustration: =germania arming kruger.= "the _vossische zeitung_ chronicles with satisfaction the recent arrival at lorenzo marquez, on board the german east african liner kaiser, of 1,650 cases of war material for the transvaal, including a whole battery of heavy guns, and states its conviction that the transvaal and the orange free state are 'determined to maintain their independence.'"--_globe, april 13._ _april 24, 1897._ * * * *** =the prussian bully tries to interfere in the transvaal.= * * * * * illustration: =a tall order.= _german eagle_ (_to dove of peace_). "teach me how to coo!" _december 7, 1904._ * * * *** =the prussian bully maintains, in the cause of peace, a strong and efficient army, ready for instant action.= * * * * * illustration: =the blind side.= _german officer_: "glad to hear you're going to fortify your sea front. very dangerous people, these english." _dutchman_: "but it will cost much." _german officer_: "ah, but see what you save on the eastern frontier, where there's nobody but us." _january 11, 1911._ * * * *** =the prussian bully tries to get on the "blind side" of holland.= * * * * * illustration: =solid.= _germany._ "donnerwetter! it's rock. i thought it was going to be paper." _august 2, 1911._ * * * *** =the prussian bully finds that the triple entente really exists.= * * * * * illustration: =out of the shadow.= _the kaiser._ "what business have you here?" _german socialist party._ "i too want 'a place in the sun.'" _january 31, 1912._ * * * *** =the prussian bully becomes aware of a growing menace.= * * * * * illustration: =bravo, belgium!= _august 12, 1914._ * * * *** =the prussian bully invades an inoffensive neutral country.= * * * * * illustration: =the triumph of "culture."= _august 26, 1914._ * * * *** =the prussian bully declares himself to be the apostle of culture.= * * * * * illustration: =the great goth.= design for a stained-glass window in a neo-gothic cathedral at potsdam. _september 30, 1914_ * * * *** =the apotheosis of the prussian bully.= * * * * * bradbury, agnew & co. printers, london & tonbridge. comic bible sketches reprinted from "the freethinker" by g. w. foote part i. london: progressive publishing company 28 stonecutter street, e.c. 1885. introduction. english literature has its comic histories, its comic grammars, its comic geographies, and its comic law-books, and carlyle once prophesied that it would some day boast its comic bible. tough as the fine old sage of chelsea was, he predicted this monstrosity with something of the horror a barbarian might feel at the thought of some irreverent fellow deliberately laughing at the tribal fetish. but what shocked our latter-day prophet so greatly in mere anticipation has partially come to pass. "la bible amusante" has had an extensive sale in france, and the infectious irreverence has extended itself to england. notwithstanding that mr. g. r. sims, when he saw the first numbers of that abominable publication, piously turned up the whites of his eyes, and declared his opinion that no english freethinker, however extreme, would think of reproducing or imitating them, there were found persons so utterly abandoned as not to scruple at this unparalleled profanity. several of the french drawings were copied with more or less fidelity in the _freethinker_, a scandalous print, as the christians love to describe it, which has been prosecuted twice for blasphemy, and whose editor, proprietor and publisher, have been punished respectively with twelve, nine and three months' imprisonment like common felons, all for the glory and honor of god, for the satisfaction of his dear son, and for the vindication of the holy spirit. in many cases the french originals could not be reproduced in england, owing to their gallic flavor. a parisian artist, disporting himself among those highly moral histories in the bible which our youths and maidens discover with unerring instinct, was not a spectacle which one could dare to exhibit before the pious and chaste british public; any more than an english poet could follow the lead of evariste parny in his "guerre des dieux" and "les amours de la bible." but many others were free from this objection, and a selection of them served as a basis for the freethinker artist to work on. a few were copied pretty closely; some were elaborated and adapted to our national taste; while others furnished a central suggestion, which was treated in an independent manner. by-and-bye, as the insular diffidence wore off, and the minds of the freethinker staff played freely on the subject, a new departure was taken; novel ideas were worked out, and holy writ was ransacked for fresh comicalities. dullards prophesied a speedy exhaustion of bible topics, but they did not know how inexhaustible it is in absurdities. properly read, it is the most comical book in the world; and one might say of it, as enobarbus says of cleopatra, that age cannot wither it, nor custom stale; it's infinite variety. the following comic bible sketches, which will be succeeded in due course by others, comprise all those worth preserving that appeared in the freethinker before its editor, proprietor and publisher were imprisoned, including the drawings they were prosecuted for by that pious guinea: pig, sir henry tyler, who had his dirty fingers severely rapped by lord coleridge, after spending several hundred pounds of somebody's money in an unsuccessful blasphemy prosecution, in order to patch up his threadbare reputation, and perhaps also with a faint hope of cheating the almighty into reserving him a front-seat ticket for the dress-circle in heaven. the french comic bible prints under each illustration a few crisp lines of satiric narrative. this plan has its advantages; it allows, for instance, the writer's pen to curvet as well as the artist's pencil. but it is after all less effective than the plan we have adopted. we merely give each picture a comprehensive and striking title, and print beneath it the bible text which is illustrated. by this means the satire is greatly heightened. not even the sentences of a voltaire could so illuminate and emphasise the grotesqueness of each topic as this juxtaposition of the solemnly absurd scripture with the gaily absurd illustration. the same spirit has animated us in designing the pictures. our object has been to take the bible text always as our basis, to include no feature which is contradicted by it, and to introduce as many comicalities and anachronisms as possible consistently with this rule. we are therefore able to defy criticism. bibliolators may vituperate us, persecute us, or imprison us, but they cannot refute us.. we can safely challenge them to prove that a single incident happened otherwise than we have depicted it. we can candidly say to them--"the thing must have happened in some way, as to which the divine word is silent; this is our view,--what is yours?" and we humbly submit that our speculations are as valid as our neighbors'. nothing but the insanest bigotry in favor of their own conjectures could lead them to quarrel with us for expounding ours. if they can shame us with explicit disproofs from holy writ, let them do so; but what right have they to set up their carnal imaginings and uninspired theories as the ultimate criteria of truth? those who object to any employment of satire on "sacred" subjects should not go beyond the preface of this book. it is not for them, nor are they for it; and they are warned in the hall of what they must expect in the various chambers. but if they neglect the warning they should take the responsibility. it will be simply indecent if they turn round afterwards and assail us with unmerited abuse. for the sake of those who proceed in a spirit of impartial candor and honest inquiry, we beg to offer a little further explanation. we honestly admit that our purpose is to discredit the bible as the infallible word of god. believing as we do, with voltaire, that despotism can never be abolished without destroying the dogmas on which it rests, and that the bible is the grand source and sanction of them all, we are profoundly anxious to expose its pretentions. the educated classes already see through them, and the upper classes credit them just as little, although they dare not openly profess a scepticism which would imperil their privileges. but the multitude are still left to the manipulation of priests, credulous victims of the black army everywhere arrayed against freedom and progress. it is to liberate these from thraldom that we labor, sacrifice and suffer. without being indifferent to what the world calls success, we acknowledge the sovereignty of loftier aims. compared with the advancement of freethought everything else is to us of trivial moment. it may interest, and perhaps surprise, some to learn that for the famous christmas number of the freethinker which was successfully prosecuted, the editor received absolutely nothing for his work except twelve months' imprisonment, while the then registered proprietor, who suffered nine months of the same fate, actually shared with him a pecuniary loss of five pounds. we are really in deadly earnest, like all the greater soldiers of freedom who preceded us; and we employ our smaller resources of satire, as such giants as lucian, rabelais, erasmus, voltaire and heine used theirs, for ends that reach far forward into the mighty future, and affect the welfare of unimagined generations of mankind. now the masses do not read learned disquisitions; they have no leisure to make themselves adequately acquainted with the history of the bible documents; nor can they study comparative religion, trace out the analogies between christianity and older faiths, and realise how all the elaborate developments of doctrine and ritual in modern creeds have sprung from a few simple beliefs and practices of savage superstition. but they are conversant with one or two cardinal ideas of science, and they know the principles which underlie our daily life. what is called common sense (the logic of common experience) is their philosophy, and whoever seeks to move them must appeal to them through that. strange as it may appear, it is that very common sense which the clergy dread far more than all the disclosures of learning and all the revelations of science; the reason being, that learning and science are the privilege of a few, while common sense is the possession of all, and affects the very foundations of spiritual and political tyranny. ridicule is a most potent form of common-sense logic. what is the _reductio ad absurdum_ but an appeal to admitted truths against plausible falsehoods? reducing a thing to an absurdity is simply showing its inconsistency with what is common to both sides in a dispute; and it frequently means the exposure of a gross contradiction to the principles of sanity. laughter, too, as hobbes pointed out, has always an element of pride or contempt; being invariably accompanied by a feeling of superiority to its object. whoever laughs at an absurdity is above it. he looks down on it from a loftier altitude than argument can reach. the man who laughs is safe. he can never more be in danger, unless he suffers fatty degeneration of the heart or fattier degeneration of the head. priestcraft nourishes hope in the scientific laboratory, and feels only faint misgivings in academic halls; but it pales and withers at the smile of scepticism, and hears in a low laugh the note of the trump of doom. ridicule can never injure truth. what it hurts must be false. laugh at the multiplication-table as much as you please, and twice two will still make four. pictorial ridicule has the immense advantage of visualising absurdities. lazy minds, or those accustomed to regard a subject with the reverence of prejudice, read without realising. but the picture supplies the deficiency of their imagination, translates words into things, and enables them to see what had else been only a vague sound. christians read the bible without realising its wonders, allowing themselves to be cheated with words. mr. herbert spencer has remarked that the image of the almighty hand launching worlds into space is very fine until you try to form a mental picture of it, when it is found to be utterly irrealisable. in the same way, the creation story is passable until you image the lord making a clay man and blowing up his nose; or the story of samson until you picture him slaying file after file of well-armed soldiers with the jaw-bone of a costermonger's pony. let it be observed that these comic bible sketches ridicule nothing but miracles. mr. mathew arnold has said that the bible miracles are only fairy tales (very poor ones, by the way) and their reign is doomed. we only seek to hasten their deposition. whatever the bible contains of truth, goodness and beauty, we prize as well as its blindest devotees. but this valuable deposit of antiquity would be more useful if cleared of the rubbish of superstition. it is not the good, but the evil parts of the bible, that are supported by its supernaturalism. why should civilised englishmen go walking about in hebrew old-clothes? let us heed carlyle's stern monition:--"the jew old-clothes having now grown fairly pestilential, a poisonous incumbrance in the path of of men, burn them up with revolutionary fire." a word in conclusion. the editor of the "manchester examiner," writing over the well-known signature of "verax," recently published a long article, censuring the policy of aggressive freethought, and declaring that to laugh at the absurdities of the bible was to insult the human race. we might as well, he said, laugh at our poor ancestors, the ancient britons, for all their mistakes and follies. well, when the ancient jews are not only dead, but buried like the ancient britons; when their mistakes and follies are no longer palmed off on unsuspecting children, and imposed on grown-up men and women, as divine immortal truths; we will cease ridiculing them, and devote our attention to worthier objects. what, would "verax" say if an ancient briton, dressed in a full suit of war-paint, were to walk through the manchester streets, boasting himself the pink of fashion, and insulting peaceable citizens who refused to patronise his tailor? would he not write a racy article on the absurd phenomenon, and ask why the police tolerated such a nuisance? in like manner we publish our comic bible sketches, and summon the police of thought to remove those ancient jews who still infest our mental thoroughfares. april, 1885. g. w. foote john leech's pictures of life and character by william makepeace thackeray * reprinted from the quarterly review, no. 191, dec. 1854, by permission of mr. john murray. we, who can recall the consulship of plancus, and quite respectable, old-fogyfied times, remember amongst other amusements which we had as children the pictures at which we were permitted to look. there was boydell's shakspeare, black and ghastly gallery of murky opies, glum northcotes, straddling fuselis! there were lear, oberon, hamlet, with starting muscles, rolling eyeballs, and long pointing quivering fingers; there was little prince arthur (northcote) crying, in white satin, and bidding good hubert not put out his eyes; there was hubert crying; there was little rutland being run through the poor little body by bloody clifford; there was cardinal beaufort (reynolds) gnashing his teeth, and grinning and howling demoniacally on his death-bed (a picture frightful to the present day); there was lady hamilton (romney) waving a torch, and dancing before a black background,--a melancholy museum indeed. smirke's delightful "seven ages" only fitfully relieved its general gloom. we did not like to inspect it unless the elders were present, and plenty of lights and company were in the room. cheerful relatives used to treat us to miss linwood's. let the children of the present generation thank their stars that tragedy is put out of their way. miss linwood's was worsted-work. your grandmother or grandaunts took you there and said the pictures were admirable. you saw "the woodman" in worsted, with his axe and dog, trampling through the snow; the snow bitter cold to look at, the woodman's pipe wonderful: a gloomy piece, that made you shudder. there were large dingy pictures of woollen martyrs, and scowling warriors with limbs strongly knitted; there was especially, at the end of a black passage, a den of lions, that would frighten any boy not born in africa, or exeter 'change, and accustomed to them. another exhibition used to be west's gallery, where the pleasing figures of lazarus in his grave-clothes, and death on the pale horse, used to impress us children. the tombs of westminster abbey, the vaults at st. paul's, the men in armor at the tower, frowning ferociously out of their helmets, and wielding their dreadful swords; that superhuman queen elizabeth at the end of the room, a livid sovereign with glass eyes, a ruff, and a dirty satin petticoat, riding a horse covered with steel: who does not remember these sights in london in the consulship of plancus? and the wax-work in fleet street, not like that of madame tussaud's, whose chamber of death is gay and brilliant; but a nice old gloomy wax-work, full of murderers; and as a chief attraction, the dead baby and the princess charlotte lying in state? our story-books had no pictures in them for the most part. frank (dear old frank!) had none; nor the "parent's assistant;" nor the "evenings at home;" nor our copy of the "ami des enfans:" there were a few just at the end of the spelling-book; besides the allegory at the beginning, of education leading up youth to the temple of industry, where dr. dilworth and professor walkinghame stood with crowns of laurel. there were, we say, just a few pictures at the end of the spelling-book, little oval gray woodcuts of bewick's, mostly of the wolf and the lamb, the dog and the shadow, and brown, jones, and robinson with long ringlets and little tights; but for pictures, so to speak, what had we? the rough old wood-blocks in the old harlequin-backed fairy-books had served hundreds of years; before our plancus, in the time of priscus plancus--in queen anne's time, who knows? we were flogged at school; we were fifty boys in our boarding-house, and had to wash in a leaden trough, under a cistern, with lumps of fat yellow soap floating about in the ice and water. are our sons ever flogged? have they not dressing-rooms, hair-oil, hip-baths, and baden towels? and what picture-books the young villains have! what have these children done that they should be so much happier than we were? we had the "arabian nights" and walter scott, to be sure. smirke's illustrations to the former are very fine. we did not know how good they were then; but we doubt whether we did not prefer the little old "miniature library nights" with frontispieces by uwins; for these books the pictures don't count. every boy of imagination does his own pictures to scott and the "arabian nights" best. of funny pictures there were none especially intended for us children. there was rowlandson's "doctor syntax": doctor syntax in a fuzz-wig, on a horse with legs like sausages, riding races, making love, frolicking with rosy exuberant damsels. those pictures were very funny, and that aquatinting and the gay-colored plates very pleasant to witness; but if we could not read the poem in those days, could we digest it in this? nevertheless, apart from the text which we could not master, we remember doctor syntax pleasantly, like those cheerful painted hieroglyphics in the nineveh court at sydenham. what matter for the arrow-head, illegible stuff? give us the placid grinning kings, twanging their jolly bows over their rident horses, wounding those good-humored enemies, who tumble gayly off the towers, or drown, smiling, in the dimpling waters, amidst the anerithmon gelasma of the fish. after doctor syntax, the apparition of corinthian tom, jerry hawthorn, and the facetious bob logic must be recorded--a wondrous history indeed theirs was! when the future student of our manners comes to look over the pictures and the writing of these queer volumes, what will he think of our society, customs, and language in the consulship of plancus? "corinthian," it appears, was the phrase applied to men of fashion and ton in plancus's time: they were the brilliant predecessors of the "swell" of the present period--brilliant, but somewhat barbarous, it must be confessed. the corinthians were in the habit of drinking a great deal too much in tom cribb's parlor: they used to go and see "life" in the gin-shops; of nights, walking home (as well as they could), they used to knock down "charleys," poor harmless old watchmen with lanterns, guardians of the streets of rome, planco consule. they perpetrated a vast deal of boxing; they put on the "mufflers" in jackson's rooms; they "sported their prads" in the ring in the park; they attended cock-fights, and were enlightened patrons of dogs and destroyers of rats. besides these sports, the delassemens of gentlemen mixing with the people, our patricians, of course, occasionally enjoyed the society of their own class. what a wonderful picture that used to be of corinthian tom dancing with corinthian kate at almack's! what a prodigious dress kate wore! with what graceful abandon the pair flung their arms about as they swept through the mazy quadrille, with all the noblemen standing round in their stars and uniforms! you may still, doubtless, see the pictures at the british museum, or find the volumes in the corner of some old country-house library. you are led to suppose that the english aristocracy of 1820 did dance and caper in that way, and box and drink at tom cribb's, and knock down watchmen; and the children of to-day, turning to their elders, may say "grandmamma, did you wear such a dress as that, when you danced at almack's? there was very little of it, grandmamma. did grandpapa kill many watchmen when he was a young man, and frequent thieves' gin-shops, cock-fights, and the ring, before you married him? did he use to talk the extraordinary slang and jargon which is printed in this book? he is very much changed. he seems a gentlemanly old boy enough now." in the above-named consulate, when we had grandfathers alive, there would be in the old gentleman's library in the country two or three old mottled portfolios, or great swollen scrap-books of blue paper, full of the comic prints of grandpapa's time, ere plancus ever had the fasces borne before him. these prints were signed gilray, bunbury, rowlandson, woodward, and some actually george cruikshank--for george is a veteran now, and he took the etching needle in hand as a child. he caricatured "boney," borrowing not a little from gilray in his first puerile efforts. he drew louis xviii. trying on boney's boots. before the century was actually in its teens we believe that george cruikshank was amusing the public. in those great colored prints in our grandfathers' portfolios in the library, and in some other apartments of the house, where the caricatures used to be pasted in those days, we found things quite beyond our comprehension. boney was represented as a fierce dwarf, with goggle eyes, a huge laced hat and tricolored plume, a crooked sabre, reeking with blood: a little demon revelling in lust, murder, massacre. john bull was shown kicking him a good deal: indeed he was prodigiously kicked all through that series of pictures; by sidney smith and our brave allies the gallant turks; by the excellent and patriotic spaniards; by the amiable and indignant russians,--all nations had boots at the service of poor master boney. how pitt used to defy him! how good old george, king of brobdingnag, laughed at gulliver-boney, sailing about in his tank to make sport for their majesties! this little fiend, this beggar's brat, cowardly, murderous, and atheistic as he was (we remember, in those old portfolios, pictures representing boney and his family in rags, gnawing raw bones in a corsican hut; boney murdering the sick at jaffa; boney with a hookah and a large turban, having adopted the turkish religion, &c.)--this corsican monster, nevertheless, had some devoted friends in england, according to the gilray chronicle,--a set of villains who loved atheism, tyranny, plunder, and wickedness in general, like their french friend. in the pictures these men were all represented as dwarfs, like their ally. the miscreants got into power at one time, and, if we remember right, were called the broad-backed administration. one with shaggy eyebrows and a bristly beard, the hirsute ringleader of the rascals, was, it appears, called charles james fox; another miscreant, with a blotched countenance, was a certain sheridan; other imps were hight erskine, norfolk (jockey of), moira, henry petty. as in our childish, innocence we used to look at these demons, now sprawling and tipsy in their cups; now scaling heaven, from which the angelic pitt hurled them down; now cursing the light (their atrocious ringleader fox was represented with hairy cloven feet, and a tail and horns); now kissing boney's boot, but inevitably discomfited by pitt and the other good angels: we hated these vicious wretches, as good children should; we were on the side of virtue and pitt and grandpapa. but if our sisters wanted to look at the portfolios, the good old grandfather used to hesitate. there were some prints among them very odd indeed; some that girls could not understand; some that boys, indeed, had best not see. we swiftly turn over those prohibited pages. how many of them there were in the wild, coarse, reckless, ribald, generous book of old english humor! how savage the satire was--how fierce the assault--what garbage hurled at opponents--what foul blows were hit--what language of billingsgate flung! fancy a party in a country-house now looking over woodward's facetiae or some of the gilray comicalities, or the slatternly saturnalia of rowlandson! whilst we live we must laugh, and have folks to make us laugh. we cannot afford to lose satyr with his pipe and dances and gambols. but we have washed, combed, clothed, and taught the rogue good manners: or rather, let us say, he has learned them himself; for he is of nature soft and kindly, and he has put aside his mad pranks and tipsy habits; and, frolicsome always, has become gentle and harmless, smitten into shame by he pure presence of our women and the sweet confiding smiles of our children. among the veterans, the old pictorial satirists, we have mentioned the famous name of one humorous designer who is still alive and at work. did we not see, by his own hand, his own portrait of his own famous face, and whiskers, in the illustrated london news the other day? there was a print in that paper of an assemblage of teetotalers in "sadler's wells theatre," and we straightway recognized the old roman hand--the old roman's of the time of plancus--george cruikshank's. there were the old bonnets and droll faces and shoes, and short trousers, and figures of 1820 sure enough. and there was george (who has taken to the water-doctrine, as all the world knows) handing some teetotal cresses over a plank to the table where the pledge was being administered. how often has george drawn that picture of cruikshank! where haven't we seen it? how fine it was, facing the effigy of mr. ainsworth in ainsworth's magazine when george illustrated that periodical! how grand and severe he stands in that design in g. c.'s "omnibus," where he represents himself tonged like st. dunstan, and tweaking a wretch of a publisher by the nose! the collectors of george's etchings--oh the charming etchings!--oh the dear old "german popular tales!"--the capital "points of humor"--the delightful "phrenology" and "scrap-books," of the good time, our time--plancus's in fact!--the collectors of the georgian etchings, we say, have at least a hundred pictures of the artist. why, we remember him in his favorite hessian boots in "tom and jerry" itself; and in woodcuts as far back as the queen's trial. he has rather deserted satire and comedy of late years, having turned his attention to the serious, and warlike, and sublime. having confessed our age and prejudices, we prefer the comic and fanciful to the historic, romantic, and at present didactic george. may respect, and length of days, and comfortable repose attend the brave, honest, kindly, pure-minded artist, humorist, moralist! it was he first who brought english pictorial humor and children acquainted. our young people and their fathers and mothers owe him many a pleasant hour and harmless laugh. is there no way in which the country could acknowledge the long services and brave career of such a friend and benefactor? since george's time humor has been converted. comus and his wicked satyrs and leering fauns have disappeared, and fled into the lowest haunts; and comus's lady (if she had a taste for humor, which may be doubted) might take up our funny picture-books without the slightest precautionary squeamishness. what can be purer than the charming fancies of richard doyle? in all mr. punch's huge galleries can't we walk as safely as through miss pinkerton's schoolrooms? and as we look at mr. punch's pictures, at the illustrated news pictures, at all the pictures in the book-shop windows at this christmas season, as oldsters, we feel a certain pang of envy against the youngsters--they are too well off. why hadn't we picture-books? why were we flogged so? a plague on the lictors and their rods in the time of plancus! and now, after this rambling preface, we are arrived at the subject in hand--mr. john leech and his "pictures of life and character," in the collection of mr. punch. this book is better than plum-cake at christmas. it is an enduring plum-cake, which you may eat and which you may slice and deliver to your friends; and to which, having cut it, you may come again and welcome, from year's end to year's end. in the frontispiece you see mr. punch examining the pictures in his gallery--a portly, well-dressed, middle-aged, respectable gentleman, in a white neck-cloth, and a polite evening costume--smiling in a very bland and agreeable manner upon one of his pleasant drawings, taken out of one of his handsome portfolios. mr. punch has very good reason to smile at the work and be satisfied with the artist. mr. leech, his chief contributor, and some kindred humorists, with pencil and pen have served mr. punch admirably. time was, if we remember mr. p.'s history rightly, that he did not wear silk stockings nor well-made clothes (the little dorsal irregularity in his figure is almost an ornament now, so excellent a tailor has he). he was of humble beginnings. it is said he kept a ragged little booth, which he put up at corners of streets; associated with beadles, policemen, his own ugly wife (whom he treated most scandalously), and persons in a low station of life; earning a precarious livelihood by the cracking of wild jokes, the singing of ribald songs, and halfpence extorted from passers-by. he is the satyric genius we spoke of anon: he cracks his jokes still, for satire must live; but he is combed, washed, neatly clothed, and perfectly presentable. he goes into the very best company; he keeps a stud at melton; he has a moor in scotland; he rides in the park; has his stall at the opera; is constantly dining out at clubs and in private society; and goes every night in the season to balls and parties, where you see the most beautiful women possible. he is welcomed amongst his new friends the great; though, like the good old english gentleman of the song, he does not forget the small. he pats the heads of street boys and girls; relishes the jokes of jack the costermonger and bob the dustman; good-naturedly spies out molly the cook flirting with policeman x, or mary the nursemaid as she listens to the fascinating guardsman. he used rather to laugh at guardsmen, "plungers," and other military men; and was until latter days very contemptuous in his behavior towards frenchmen. he has a natural antipathy to pomp, and swagger, and fierce demeanor. but now that the guardsmen are gone to war, and the dandies of "the rag"--dandies no more--are battling like heroes at balaklava and inkermann* by the side of their heroic allies, mr. punch's laughter is changed to hearty respect and enthusiasm. it is not against courage and honor he wars: but this great moralist--must it be owned?--has some popular british prejudices, and these led him in peace time to laugh at soldiers and frenchmen. if those hulking footmen who accompanied the carriages to the opening of parliament the other day, would form a plush brigade, wear only gunpowder in their hair, and strike with their great canes on the enemy, mr. punch would leave off laughing at jeames, who meanwhile remains among us, to all outward appearance regardless of satire, and calmly consuming his five meals per diem. against lawyers, beadles, bishops and clergy, and authorities, mr. punch is still rather bitter. at the time of the papal aggression he was prodigiously angry; and one of the chief misfortunes which happened to him at that period was that, through the violent opinions which he expressed regarding the roman catholic hierarchy, he lost the invaluable services, the graceful pencil, the harmless wit, the charming fancy of mr. doyle. another member of mr. punch's cabinet, the biographer of jeames, the author of the "snob papers," resigned his functions on account of mr. punch's assaults upon the present emperor of the french nation, whose anger jeames thought it was unpatriotic to arouse. mr. punch parted with these contributors: he filled their places with others as good. the boys at the railroad stations cried punch just as cheerily, and sold just as many numbers, after these events as before. * this was written in 1854. there is no blinking the fact that in mr. punch's cabinet john leech is the right-hand man. fancy a number of punch without leech's pictures! what would you give for it? the learned gentlemen who write the work must feel that, without him, it were as well left alone. look at the rivals whom the popularity of punch has brought into the field; the direct imitators of mr. leech's manner--the artists with a manner of their own--how inferior their pencils are to his in humor, in depicting the public manners, in arresting, amusing the nation. the truth, the strength, the free vigor, the kind humor, the john bull pluck and spirit of that hand are approached by no competitor. with what dexterity he draws a horse, a woman, a child! he feels them all, so to speak, like a man. what plump young beauties those are with which mr. punch's chief contributor supplies the old gentleman's pictorial harem! what famous thews and sinews mr. punch's horses have, and how briggs, on the back of them, scampers across country! you see youth, strength, enjoyment, manliness in those drawings, and in none more so, to our thinking, than in the hundred pictures of children which this artist loves to design. like a brave, hearty, good-natured briton, he becomes quite soft and tender with the little creatures, pats gently their little golden heads, and watches with unfailing pleasure their ways, their sports, their jokes, laughter, caresses. enfans terribles come home from eton; young miss practising her first flirtation; poor little ragged polly making dirt-pies in the gutter, or staggering under the weight of jacky, her nursechild, who is as big as herself--all these little ones, patrician and plebeian, meet with kindness from this kind heart, and are watched with curious nicety by this amiable observer. we remember, in one of those ancient gilray portfolios, a print which used to cause a sort of terror in us youthful spectators, and in which the prince of wales (his royal highness was a foxite then) was represented as sitting alone in a magnificent hall after a voluptuous meal, and using a great steel fork in the guise of a toothpick. fancy the first young gentleman living employing such a weapon in such a way! the most elegant prince of europe engaged with a two-pronged iron fork--the heir of britannia with a bident! the man of genius who drew that picture saw little of the society which he satirized and amused. gilray watched public characters as they walked by the shop in st. james's street, or passed through the lobby of the house of commons. his studio was a garret, or little better; his place of amusement a tavern-parlor, where his club held its nightly sittings over their pipes and sanded floor. you could not have society represented by men to whom it was not familiar. when gavarni came to england a few years since--one of the wittiest of men, one of the most brilliant and dexterous of draughtsmen--he published a book of "les anglais," and his anglais were all frenchmen. the eye, so keen and so long practised to observe parisian life, could not perceive english character. a social painter must be of the world which he depicts, and native to the manners which he portrays. now, any one who looks over mr. leech's portfolio must see that the social pictures which he gives us are authentic. what comfortable little drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, what snug libraries we enter; what fine young-gentlemanly wags they are, those beautiful little dandies who wake up gouty old grandpapa to ring the bell; who decline aunt's pudding and custards, saying that they will reserve themselves for an anchovy toast with the claret; who talk together in ball-room doors, where fred whispers charley--pointing to a dear little partner seven years old--"my dear charley, she has very much gone off; you should have seen that girl last season!" look well at everything appertaining to the economy of the famous mr. briggs: how snug, quiet, appropriate all the appointments are! what a comfortable, neat, clean, middle-class house briggs's is (in the bayswater suburb of london, we should guess from the sketches of the surrounding scenery)! what a good stable he has, with a loose box for those celebrated hunters which he rides! how pleasant, clean, and warm his breakfast-table looks! what a trim little maid brings in the top-boots which horrify mrs. b! what a snug dressing-room he has, complete in all its appointments, and in which he appears trying on the delightful hunting-cap which mrs. briggs flings into the fire! how cosy all the briggs party seem in their dining-room: briggs reading a treatise on dog-breaking by a lamp; mamma and grannie with their respective needleworks; the children clustering round a great book of prints--a great book of prints such as this before us, which, at this season, must make thousands of children happy by as many firesides! the inner life of all these people is represented: leech draws them as naturally as teniers depicts dutch boors, or morland pigs and stables. it is your house and mine: we are looking at everybody's family circle. our boys coming from school give themselves such airs, the young scapegraces! our girls, going to parties, are so tricked out by fond mammas--a social history of london in the middle of the nineteenth century. as such, future students--lucky they to have a book so pleasant--will regard these pages: even the mutations of fashion they may follow here if they be so inclined. mr. leech has as fine an eye for tailory and millinery as for horse-flesh. how they change those cloaks and bonnets. how we have to pay milliners' bills from year to year! where are those prodigious chatelaines of 1850 which no lady could be without? where those charming waistcoats, those "stunning" waistcoats, which our young girls used to wear a few brief seasons back, and which cause 'gus, in the sweet little sketch of "la mode," to ask ellen for her tailor's address. 'gus is a young warrior by this time, very likely facing the enemy at inkerman; and pretty ellen, and that love of a sister of hers, are married and happy, let us hope, superintending one of those delightful nursery scenes which our artist depicts with such tender humor. fortunate artist, indeed! you see he must have been bred at a good public school; that he has ridden many a good horse in his day; paid, no doubt, out of his own purse for the originals of some of those lovely caps and bonnets; and watched paternally the ways, smiles, frolics, and slumbers of his favorite little people. as you look at the drawings, secrets come out of them,--private jokes, as it were, imparted to you by the author for your special delectation. how remarkably, for instance, has mr. leech observed the hair-dressers of the present age! look at "mr. tongs," whom that hideous old bald woman, who ties on her bonnet at the glass, informs that "she has used the whole bottle of balm of california, but her hair comes off yet." you can see the bear's-grease not only on tongs's head but on his hands, which he is clapping clammily together. remark him who is telling his client "there is cholera in the hair;" and that lucky rogue whom the young lady bids to cut off "a long thick piece"--for somebody, doubtless. all these men are different, and delightfully natural and absurd. why should hair-dressing be an absurd profession? the amateur will remark what an excellent part hands play in mr. leech's pieces: his admirable actors use them with perfect naturalness. look at betty, putting the urn down; at cook, laying her hands on the kitchen table, whilst her policeman grumbles at the cold meat. they are cook's and housemaid's hands without mistake, and not without a certain beauty too. the bald old lady, who is tying her bonnet at tongs's, has hands which you see are trembling. watch the fingers of the two old harridans who are talking scandal: for what long years past they have pointed out holes in their neighbors' dresses and mud on their flounces. "here's a go! i've lost my diamond ring." as the dustman utters this pathetic cry, and looks at his hand, you burst out laughing. these are among the little points of humor. one could indicate hundreds of such as one turns over the pleasant pages. there is a little snob or gent, whom we all of us know, who wears little tufts on his little chin, outrageous pins and pantaloons, smokes cigars on tobacconists' counters, sucks his cane in the streets, struts about with mrs. snob and the baby (mrs. s. an immense woman, whom snob nevertheless bullies), who is a favorite abomination of leech, and pursued by that savage humorist into a thousand of his haunts. there he is, choosing waistcoats at the tailor's--such waistcoats! yonder he is giving a shilling to the sweeper who calls him "capting;" now he is offering a paletot to a huge giant who is going out in the rain. they don't know their own pictures, very likely; if they did, they would have a meeting, and thirty or forty of them would be deputed to thrash mr. leech. one feels a pity for the poor little bucks. in a minute or two, when we close this discourse and walk the streets, we shall see a dozen such. ere we shut the desk up, just one word to point out to the unwary specially to note the backgrounds of landscapes in leech's drawings--homely drawings of moor and wood, and seashore and london street--the scenes of his little dramas. they are as excellently true to nature as the actors themselves; our respect for the genius and humor which invented both increases as we look and look again at the designs. may we have more of them; more pleasant christmas volumes, over which we and our children can laugh together. can we have too much of truth, and fun, and beauty, and kindness? by the google books project new readings of old authors by robert seymour illustrated by robert seymour and george cruikshank 1830 [illustration: 021] [illustration: 069] transcriber's note: this set of engravings is not complete, but seemed worthwhile to publish all the same. many thanks to the google books project for salvaging part of this work. the plates are listed as in the book, though it is obvious that some are not in order and many missing. [illustration: 001] [illustration: 002] [illustration: 003] [illustration: 004] [illustration: 005] [illustration: 006] [illustration: 007] [illustration: 008] [illustration: 009] [illustration: 010] [illustration: 011] [illustration: 012] [illustration: 013] [illustration: 014] [illustration: 015] [illustration: 016] [illustration: 017] [illustration: 018] [illustration: 019] [illustration: 020] [illustration: 023] [illustration: 024] [illustration: 025] [illustration: 026] [illustration: 027] [illustration: 028] [illustration: 029] [illustration: 030] [illustration: 031] [illustration: 032] [illustration: 033] [illustration: 034] [illustration: 035] [illustration: 036] [illustration: 037] [illustration: 038] [illustration: 039] [illustration: 040] [illustration: 041] [illustration: 042] [illustration: 043] [illustration: 044] [illustration: 045] [illustration: 046] [illustration: 047] [illustration: 048] [illustration: 049] [illustration: 051] [illustration: 052] [illustration: 053] [illustration: 054] [illustration: 055] [illustration: 056] [illustration: 057] [illustration: 058] [illustration: 059] [illustration: 060] [illustration: 061] [illustration: 062] [illustration: 063] [illustration: 064] [illustration: 065] [illustration: 066] [illustration: 067] [illustration: 068] [illustration: 069] [illustration: 070] [illustration: 071] [illustration: 072] [illustration: 073] [illustration: 074] [illustration: 075] [illustration: 076] [illustration: 077] [illustration: 078] [illustration: 079] [illustration: 100] [illustration: 101] [illustration: 102] [illustration: 103] [illustration: 104] [illustration: 105] [illustration: 106] [illustration: 107] [illustration: 108] [illustration: 109] by the internet archive my sketch book by george cruikshank 1834 transcriber's note: there is no printed text in this book. some of the plates have handwritten notes. dw cover [illustration: cover] frontispiece [illustration: frontispiece] titlepage [illustration: 001] plate 2 [illustration: 002] plate 3 [illustration: 003] plate 4 [illustration: 004] plate 5 [illustration: 005] plate 6 [illustration: 006] plate 7 [illustration: 007] plate 8 [illustration: 008] plate 9 [illustration: 009] plate 10 [illustration: 010] plate 11 [illustration: 011] plate 12 [illustration: 012] plate 13 [illustration: 013] plate 14 [illustration: 014] plate 15 [illustration: 015] plate 16 [illustration: 016] plate 17 [illustration: 017] plate 18 [illustration: 018] plate 19 [illustration: 019] plate 20 [illustration: 020] plate 21 [illustration: 021] plate 22 [illustration: 022] plate 23 [illustration: 023] plate 24 [illustration: 024] plate 25 [illustration: 025] plate 26 [illustration: 026] plate 27 [illustration: 027] plate 28 [illustration: 028] plate 29 [illustration: 029] plate 30 [illustration: 030] plate 31 [illustration: 031] plate 32 [illustration: 032] plate 33 [illustration: 033] plate 34 [illustration: 034] plate 35 [illustration: 035] plate 36 [illustration: 036] plate 37 [illustration: 037] plate 38 [illustration: 038] plate 39 [illustration: 039] plate 40 [illustration: 040] plate 41 [illustration: 041] plate 42 [illustration: 042] plate 43 [illustration: 043] the phil may album [illustration: blowing a cloud] the phil may album collected by augustus m. moore methuen & co. 36 essex street, w.c. london 1900 edmund evans printer racquet court fleet street contents page blowing a cloud 2 introduction 7 the legitimate 17 a question of hose 18 fallen greatness 19 "not golden, but gilded" 20 the temptation of anthony 21 on the brain: the queen and mrs. martha ricks 22 fate! 23 on the brain: h.r.h. and stiggins 24 the noble art 25 on the brain: h.r.h. the duke of cambridge 26 pro bono publico 27 on the brain: the duke of fife 28 accommodating 29 on the brain: the german emperor 30 at a provincial banquet 31 on the brain: the duc d'orleans 32 all the difference 33 three men in a boot 34 a friend in need 35 like a bird 35 on the brain: mrs. annie besant 36 an upright course 37 on the brain: mr. henry george 38 a benevolent connoisseur 39 on the brain: sir charles ewan smith 40 on the sands 41 on the brain: mr. george grossmith 42 womanly 43 on the brain: mr. arthur roberts 44 our climate 45 on the brain: sir george newnes 46 cheek 47 on the brain: sir george dibbs 48 information wanted 49 on the brain: mr. horace sedger 50 french, as she is spoke 51 on the brain: the marquis of queensberry 52 hard lines 53 on the brain: mr. w. t. stead 54 mutual consideration 55 on the brain: mr. william morris 56 britons in paris 57 on the brain: sir henry parkes 58 ready for the ball 59 on the brain: the marquis of dufferin and ava 60 before his friends 61 on the brain: sir augustus harris 62 saintly politeness 63 on the brain: sir edward lawson 64 "oh, listen to my tale of 'wo'" 65 on the brain: mr. rudyard kipling 66 the new jew 67 street compliments 67 deduction 67 on the brain: sir william v. harcourt, m.p. 68 the victim of circumstances 69 on the brain: m. ernest renan 70 a pair of soiled kids 71 lip 71 on the brain: lord randolph churchill 72 the cape mail 73 on the brain: lord russell of killowen 74 limited 75 on the brain: mr. h. m. stanley 76 information 77 on the brain: lord alington 78 inquisitive 79 a howling swell 79 on the brain: rt. hon. a. j. balfour, m.p. 80 an idle fellow 81 on the brain: madame adelina patti 82 a good place 83 poodles 83 a pleasant prospect 83 on the brain: right hon. w. e. gladstone 84 on the sands 85 on the brain: the right hon. joseph chamberlain, m.p. 86 realism 87 on the brain: m emile zola 88 at the riding school 89 on the brain: lord tennyson 90 no chance 91 a fact 91 a prominent feature 91 on the brain: sir j. blundell maple, m.p. 92 force of habit 93 on the brain: mr. albert chevalier 94 the unkindest cut 95 double sight 95 putting it plainly 95 bridget 95 m. jaques 96 obvious 97 monsieur sardou 98 pleasant memories 99 advice 99 a song and a singer 99 on the brain: mr. beerbohm tree 100 a nasty one 101 on the brain: general booth 102 the accent on the peg 103 a recommendation 103 picksome 103 on the brain: an ex-lord mayor 104 the wrong shop 105 on the brain: mr. g. a. sala 106 bakers' strike 107 going the pace 107 a poser for gran'pa 107 a prior engagement 107 the north pole 108 suggestive 109 leg-islation 110 intelligence department 111 the consuming passion 111 the down train 111 a distinction 111 on the brain: mr. punch 112 phil may and his art "and now, mr. whistler, what about black and white art?" said an interviewer. "black and white art," said mr. whistler, "is summed up in two words--phil may!" nor is this merely a new school of art paradox. it is one which is held by artists of all grades alike, and even by the art editor who professes to know and supply what the public likes. that a youth who never had a lesson in drawing in his life should have earned such a reputation between the ages of seventeen and thirty, and should have gone above men as honoured in their profession as sir john tenniel and mr. george du maurier, and on a level with charles keene, mr. abbey and mr. gibson, is enough to make mr. may's art extremely interesting. but his art is not nearly so instructive as mr. may himself; he is a human document to the hand of the realist, and the student of heredity--if ever there was one. he has been interviewed in a sketchy fashion by the journalistic mrs. mangnall innumerable times; the high-art magazines have added him to their lists of "our graphic humorists," "black and white artists," and "how caricaturists draw." the world is familiar with his own grotesque sketches of himself, and, whether he is attired in riding breeches, a straw hat perched on the back of his head, as he drives a coster's cart, or is being flung out of a cab, his long cigar and his hair cut in a bang straight across his forehead, are unchangeable and unmistakeable. the public no doubt thinks that this is only one of phil may's jokes at his own expense, for the bold rabelaisian roundness of his humour suggests a man the very reverse of the lean and hungry cassius. but phil may's humour does not consist of making fat people thin, thin people fat, exaggerating features, putting big heads upon little legs, and such methods of distortion as we have so often seen resorted to. this we learn from a glance at his home, which is his studio life. mr. may's artistic treasures are none of them the old masters of a millionaire, but purely personal household gods, each with a little story of a friendship, a reminiscence of hard-up times, or some personal taste. the volumes in the old oak book-case are not first editions, but they show a fine appreciation for the best literature, and even the blue china is not wired and hung-up. the drawing-board seems to act as an address-book, and the grandfather's clock by the fireplace in its old age has given up making a nuisance of itself by repeating "for ever, never." the mantelpiece is peopled with little japanese dolls, little bronzes and brasses, and figures carved in yellow ivory. these, with a few plaster casts of arms and legs which hang on the walls, a line of japanese prints put around the ceiling "to try an effect," a few japanese lanterns hanging from the roof, some japanese lay-figures in armour standing round the walls, and a few sketches, are about all the decoration of this long sky-lit room. but most important of all is the index to as remarkable a story as was ever told by a successful man, a story which has never been told before. it is only an old mug. the substance is earthenware, the decoration obviously pseudo-oriental, and the design and glaze nothing marvellous. it clearly comes from the english potteries, but it has no mark, and it is certainly not chelsea, derby, yarmouth, bristol, lowestoft, or any of the rarer and higher-priced wares. the hand of wedgwood, voyez, or elers is not seen in its design, and, indeed, it is difficult precisely to locate its origin. and yet, it should now take its place in chaffers and church who know it not. our dilemma is solved by mr. may himself, who seems, in his usual casual modest way, to have attached no importance to it, and who, from subsequent inquiries, has only a very superficial knowledge which would not satisfy a ceramic maniac, to say nothing of a family historian. "that mug was made," says mr. may, "by my grandfather. i don't know much more about him than he knows about me; but if you are interested in china, you may care for some details which may help you to hunt it up. he was a potter in the midlands--if you want to be particular, at snead, in staffordshire--and, i believe, was fairly well off; for the design, which is that of a hunt, was made to commemorate his becoming the master of the local hounds. if you say that his name is not given in any of the handbooks, i am sure you are right; but all i know is, the firm, whatever it was called, came to grief owing to the war--and i can't tell you what war; but it was not the china war." here the student of heredity will discern the rude germ of the artistic temperament which has so developed in the third generation. it was in the interests of the hereditary artistic strain that mr. may was induced to tell the story. he is not so impressed as are many people with the necessity of having a grandfather, and knows no more about him than is related above. mr. may's father was apprenticed as an engineer to george stephenson, and worked in the drawing office of the great engineer at newcastle, where he met his wife. she was a miss macarthy, and her father was eugène macarthy, who belonged to an old theatrical family connected with the management of the new theatre, wolverhampton. an old bill on satin struck to commemorate a "bespeak" performance, "under the distinguished patronage of lord wrottesley," gives eugène macarthy as playing lord tinsel in _the hunchback_, and jenkins, in _gretna green_; or, _the biter bit_, on friday, may 9th, 1845. in this bill mr. james bennett was the master walter; h. lacy the modus; mrs. w. rignold the julia, and miss fanny wallack, helen. mr. may's father was unlucky in life. he started a brass-foundry, but, as your host puts it, his partner cleared off with all the brass; and a consulting-engineer business was not much more satisfactory. mr. phil may was born in 1864, shortly after the collapse of the brass-foundry, at wortley, an outlying manufacturing district of leeds. his father died when he was nine years old, and his schooldays, as he tells you, commenced early in the school board era. at that time the new officials were very alert, so he had one year's scholastic education. he was a little delicate fellow, and was made a butt of by the other boys; and he was the victim of many practical jokes. "my artistic career," mr. may tells you, "may be said to have begun when i was about twelve, at which time the grand theatre, leeds, opened. the local scene-painter was a man called fox, a brother of charles fox, and i became acquainted with his son, who helped to mix the distemper. young fox and other boys called ford, sammy stead, and i used to rehearse pantomimes. our stage was a back street, and our scenery was designed with a stick in the gutter; but we omitted nothing. the star-traps were all marked out, and we made our descents by flinging ourselves on our faces in the muddy road. i was always a sprite, and carried 'the book of fate,' which had a prominent place in all our pantomimes." mr. may used to sketch sections of other people's designs of costumes for use in the ward-robe room, and eventually got to designing comic dresses and suggestions for masks and make-ups in the property-room. this brought him orders for actor's portraits, for which he received at first a shilling, and later five shillings. remuneration bred independence, and he took to living with three or four other boys, their lodgings costing five shillings a week. after a year or two of this life, the late fred stimpson, who had a travelling burlesque company, engaged may to play small parts and do six sketches every week to serve as window-bills in the various small towns they visited. his remuneration was twelve shillings a week, and on this he lived for two or more years. after that, about 1873, he got an engagement to draw for a small local comic journal, called _the yorkshire gossip_, which died after four weeks. in 1882 mr. may was engaged to design the dresses for the leeds pantomime, and flushed with success, or sickened with the squalid hand-to-hand life he had led since he was a boy--he was then a full-grown man of seventeen--he made up his mind to burn his boats and come to london, and _there_ he became a tragedian. his finances consisted of one sovereign. fifteen shillings and five-pence halfpenny bought him a third-class ticket, and vanity and temptation cost him four shillings and sixpence at the gaiety bar. "but what," he adds, "did it all matter? i was in london--the lap of luxury. i remembered my aunt, mrs. hanner, who had married again, an actor called fred morton, and i looked them up at st. john street road, islington." mr. may does not think they were very glad to see him; but they took him in, gave him food and a night's lodging, and next day his new uncle, after showing him the sights of london, put him in the leeds train. he got out, however, at the next station and walked back. chance led him towards clapham way. it was winter and he tried to get work, till he was too tired to walk and too cold and hungry to speak. he begged the broken dry biscuits at the public-houses; he quenched his thirst at the street fountains. the best bit of luck he had was when he induced a child on the suspension bridge to part with his bread and bacon in exchange for a walking-stick. he led a terrible life of privation, and by night slept in the park, on the embankment, or in a cart in the market near the stage-door of the princess's theatre. he was too proud to go to his relations or to mr. wilson barrett. the first bit of real luck he had was in meeting with the keeper of a photograph shop near charing cross. he took may's drawing of irving, toole and bancroft, and published it. it was a partnership arrangement, and the publisher lost about £5 in the venture. but though he was nearly as hard up as mr. may was, when he had any money, he used often to take him to a shop near the old pavilion and give him a dinner of beef _à la mode_. "it was good!" mr. may tells you. a mr. rising who played at the comedy theatre, introduced mr. may to lionel brough, who purchased the original sketch of irving, bancroft and toole for £2 2s., and introduced him to a little paper called _society_, for which he did some drawings. but between these periods mr. may suffered long spells of penury, when he would have been glad to have taken up his position with a handkerchief full of broken chalks and drawn on the pavement. at last a drawing of mr. bancroft in _society_ brought him an introduction to mr. edward russell, who introduced him to the management of the _st. stephen's review_. it was not then an illustrated paper, but a christmas number was being issued. the illustrations were already arranged for, so there was nothing for him to do. the disappointment, or long privation--for he was only eighteen at the time--or both, brought on an illness, and he returned to leeds. a telegram from mr. russell brought him to london. the illustrations for the christmas number would not do, and mr. may was asked to do them all himself--cartoon, illustrations, cover, and initials--in a week! he hired a room in a small hotel near the princess's, and worked day and night, finished the whole thing, and was paid. he remained in his humble lodgings till his money was gone, and he used, as he says, to "go out for breakfast and dinner," which meant walking about for appearances' sake. the proprietor of the hotel in question, who was also a waiter at a club, found him out, and when he came home at three or four in the morning used to dig him out to share his supper; and when, through sheer shame, may confessed he could not pay him, he insisted on his remaining in his house. mr. brough introduced mr. may to alias the costumier, who engaged him as designer of the _nell gwynne_ dresses, and kept him on to design pictures for a book, _the juvenile shakespeare_, on which they were to collaborate; but it came to nothing. then the _st. stephen's_ started illustrations, and he was employed by it till an agent came from australia to discover an artist for the _sydney bulletin_. mr. may seized the opportunity of going to the antipodes, and went. the fine air, the warm climate, and the regular food made, as he tells you, a man of him; but it was the starvation, he adds, which made him the artist he is. the rest of mr. phil may's story has been told before, and is not interesting, being one long series of successes, which culminated in his winning the blue ribbon of black-and-white art, an appointment on _punch_, which leaves him free to draw for any other paper that appreciates his art and can pay his prices. the story of his early life and struggles is not exceeded in interest, perhaps, by that of anybody except that of henri murger or that of honoré de balzac. the _hard_ life he once led has left his features somewhat _hard_, but it has not soured his disposition. there is nothing of the cynic in him. he is still careless of everything but his art, generous to a fault not only with his money, but with his lavish praises of the work of those who aspire to be his rivals. high and low, everybody speaks of him as "dear old phil," and the applause, even of princes, has not made him a snob. his talents and his temptations would have made many a boy of more severe training a pickpocket, burglar, or a gaol bird, as françois villon was. it made phil may an artist, and his story is one to be remembered as an encouragement instead of a warning. of the one hundred and twenty drawings collected in this volume, there is little to say, for they speak for themselves. for some of them, i am indebted to mr. louis meyer of 13a pall mall, who has enabled me to complete the series of drawings done at a time when phil may was, as i have described him above, a poor, struggling artist. youth and enthusiasm, made these drawings bolder than most of his later work, and the lack of pence, when every line meant pennies, made them more elaborately finished than those which of late he has made us accustomed to. but though everyone is satisfied with his present work, i can only trust that the artistic majority will think with me that he has never done better than these drawings which are here collected. that at least is why i have published them. augustus m. moore --------------------------------------[illustration: the legitimate "'ow's business, jacko?" "damned bad. what can you expect with this bloomin' opposition!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: a question of hose] --------------------------------------[illustration: fallen greatness native: "well, yer see, mum, i was once in a very 'igh persition, my missus used to do all the washin' for the royal hotel."] --------------------------------------[illustration: "not golden, but gilded"] --------------------------------------[illustration: new version the temptation of anthony] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mrs. martha ricks--"aunt martha"] --------------------------------------[illustration: fate! "owth's ikey?" "vy, ikeyth's dead." "you don't thay so. vy i thor him goin' ter the thinagogue lathst week." "vell, ith's all along of that thinagogue that ikeyth's dead. they was a-justh coming out, ven someone outside shouted out, 'sale goin' ter commenth,' and ikey was killed in the crush!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain h.r.h. the prince of wales] --------------------------------------[illustration: the noble art] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the duke of cambridge] --------------------------------------[illustration: pro bono publico discontented artist: "i wish i had a fortune. i would never paint again." generous "brother-brush": "by jove, old man, i wish _i_ had one. i'd give it to you!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the duke of fife] --------------------------------------[illustration: accommodating customer: "i want a respirator, please." chemist: "i'm afraid, sir, we haven't one your size in stock, but if you will wait until i go and get a tape-measure, i will get you one made!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the german emperor] --------------------------------------[illustration: at a provincial banquet flunkey: "excuse me, mum, but the banquet has commenced, and i can't admit you. them's my orders." she: "but the mayor is here, isn't he?" flunkey: "oh, yes, he's here right enough." she: "well, but i'm his lady." flunkey: "it makes no difference, mum; i couldn't admit you if you were his wife."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the duc d'orleans] --------------------------------------[illustration: all the difference barmaid: "i beg pardon, i have taken twopence too much. i didn't know you were an actor. i thought you were only a gentleman!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: three men in a boot] --------------------------------------[illustration: a friend in need invalid: "i sometimes feel inclined to blow my brains out." friend: "i shouldn't advise you to try it, old chap, you know you're a bad shot, and there's nothing much to aim at!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: cousin jane: "i want ma to have her portrait painted. who would you recommend?" cousin george: "stacy marks."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mrs. besant] --------------------------------------[illustration: an upright course parson: "tell me, my good man, do you know the way to heaven?" old cantankerous (_who doesn't like parsons_): "well, i sh'd think if you was to follow your nose, it 'ud be a short cut!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. henry george] --------------------------------------[illustration: a benevolent connoisseur "you are!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir charles ewan smith] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the sands machine man (_to bather who has been complaining that he was not taken out far enough_): "why, lor bless yer, sir, i once know'd a man who could dive in two foot of water." bather: "and where's he buried?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. george grossmith] --------------------------------------[illustration: womanly first philanthropist: "cannot we start a society for the employment of the poor russian jews?" second ditto: "well, you see, what could they do? you know that they can't speak english." first ditto: "oh, get them something to do on the railway, to call out the names of the stations, for instance."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. arthur roberts] --------------------------------------[illustration: our climate "look here, that barometer you sold me a month ago has got out of order, it won't work." "well, you see, sir, look what a lot of wear and tear 'e's 'ad lately."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir george newnes] --------------------------------------[illustration: cheek urchin: "hi, governor, remember the warning afore yer starts!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir george dibbs] --------------------------------------[illustration: information wanted fat party: "say, boy, do my boots want cleaning?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. horace sedger] --------------------------------------[illustration: french, as she is spoke french professor: "how would you pronounce t-o-u-t-a-f-a-i-t?" pupil: "totty fay."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the marquis of queensberry] --------------------------------------[illustration: hard lines day policeman: (_relieving night-man_): "how's the missus?" night policeman: "i don't know. 'aven't seen her for ten years." day policeman: "but ye're living together, aren't yer?" night policeman: "yes, but she's a charwoman, an' is out all day, an' i'm out all night. so we've never met since we came back from our honeymoon."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. w. t. stead] --------------------------------------[illustration: mutual consideration art critic: "what do you think of alma cadmium's painting?" artist: "oh, i think it is superb." art critic: "i'm surprised to hear you say that. _he_ says just the reverse of yours." artist: "ah, well, perhaps we're both mistaken!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. william morris] --------------------------------------[illustration: britons in paris first englishman: "where shall we go?" second englishman (_who does not know that 'relâche' means that the piece is taken off_): "let's go to the eden and see 'relâche'!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir henry parkes] --------------------------------------[illustration: ready for the ball "phwell and phwat do ye think of me, darlint?" "shure ye look jist illigent, but i phwish it wur a mask ball!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain lord dufferin] --------------------------------------[illustration: before his friends brown (_who likes to be thought a swell, and who has been entrusted with a friend's brougham for the night_): "home, john." john: "where's that, sir?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir augustus harris] --------------------------------------[illustration: saintly politeness] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir edward lawson] --------------------------------------[illustration: oh, listen to a tale of "wo"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. rudyard kipling] --------------------------------------[illustration: the new jew "and so you're going to marry a christian and disgrace your poor old father." "yeth, but i'm goin' to change my name to smith." "but what are you goin' to do with _that_ nose?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: "oh, i say! ain't 'e in a bloomin' 'urry; 'e wants to git there before the 'orse."] --------------------------------------[illustration: "yes, i was three months in the desert, with nothing to drink but camel's milk." "didn't it give you the _hump_!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the right hon. w. v. harcourt, m.p.] --------------------------------------[illustration: the victim of circumstances pious friend: "dear me, i'm sorry to see you coming out of a public-house, mr. brown." "couldn't help it, ole fel' (_hic_), i was chucked out!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain monsieur ernest renan] --------------------------------------[illustration: a pair of soiled kids] --------------------------------------[illustration: lip. new arrival (_in australia_): "what's good for mosquitoes?" resident: "you are!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the late lord randolph churchill] --------------------------------------[illustration: the cape mail clerk: "the letter is too heavy. it will require an extra stamp." she: "won't that make it heavier?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain lord russell of killowen] --------------------------------------[illustration: "what the deuce are you smoking, old chap?" "well, you see, the doctor has limited me to one cigar a day!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. h. m. stanley] --------------------------------------[illustration: information obliging driver (_to country visitor, who is trying to see london from the top of a 'bus in an intense fog_): "that there's the halbert memorial, but you can't see it!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain lord alington] --------------------------------------[illustration: inquisitive "oh, ma! are those what they call sea legs?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: a howling swell] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the rt. hon. a. j. balfour, m.p.] --------------------------------------[illustration: an idle fellow visitor: "i hear you've had the celebrated mr. abbey, the artist, staying with you down here." proprietor of old-fashioned inn: "yes, sir, an' he be the _laziest_ man i ever came across. he do nothing but dror and paint all day!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the £1,000 per night-ingale] --------------------------------------[illustration: grandpapa (_to tommy, who has just come home from school_): "and did you get a good place in your class at the last examination?" tommy: "yes; next to the stove."] --------------------------------------[illustration: poodles] --------------------------------------[illustration: a pleasant prospect "grandma, shall i have a face like you when i get old?" "yes, my dear, if you're good."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain the rt. hon. w. e. gladstone] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the sands "lor', 'arry, ain't it 'ot?" "well, sit down, an' i'll blow yer."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. joseph chamberlain, m.p.] --------------------------------------[illustration: realism comedian: "the critic of the _back alley chronicle_ described me as giving a very 'saponaceous' rendering to my part. what does 'saponaceous' mean, dear boy?" tragedian (_with learned dignity_): "cudgel not thy brains with words higher than thy bloomin' salary."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain monsieur emile zola] --------------------------------------[illustration: at the riding school nervous pupil: "when do you think i shall go on the road?" riding master: "very soon, if you don't sit better than that."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain lord tennyson] --------------------------------------[illustration: no chance "always take care of your money, my son." "i can't, you never give me any."] --------------------------------------[illustration: she: "but i really thought you were much taller than you are, mr. smith." he: "oh, no! not a bit, i assure you!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: a prominent feature "hillo, bill! what's the matter with your nose?" "i don't know. think my conscience must have pricked it."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain sir blundell maple, m.p.] --------------------------------------[illustration: force of habit prison photographer (_who has just obtained the post, to sitter, who is about to undergo twenty years' penal servitude_): "now sir, look pleasant!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. albert chevalier] --------------------------------------[illustration: the unkindest cut he: "i grew a beard and moustache for ten years, and i forgot what i was like without, so i just shaved to see." she: "and weren't you shocked?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: "hillo, bill--blind again?" "i beg pardon, i'm not blind at all; asha-matterer-fac, i can see twiche-ash-much as you."] --------------------------------------[illustration: "say, would you be so stupid as to lend me 5s.?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: in her war-paint] --------------------------------------[illustration: fast and loose] --------------------------------------[illustration: obvious] --------------------------------------[illustration: monsieur sardou] --------------------------------------[illustration: pleasant memories "ah, it's many a day since i 'ad it!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: she: "it must be a dreadful thing to become old and ugly. i should much prefer to die young." he: "you'll have to hurry up then!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: "i have a song to sing o."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. beerbohm tree] --------------------------------------[illustration: a nasty one wrymug: "i assure you the blamed fog was so thick i couldn't find the way to my own mouth." quizzer: "what! when it's just round the corner!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain general booth] --------------------------------------[illustration: new use for a clothes-peg how to obtain a good french accent] --------------------------------------[illustration: mistress (_to new cook_): "now are you sure you have had experience?" cook: "oh, yes, mum! i've been in 'undreds of places."] --------------------------------------[illustration: picksome little spriggins: "yes, we always dine at a private table. you see, my wife is so fond of picking bones." old joker: "i suppose that's why she picked you."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain lord mayor savory] --------------------------------------[illustration: the wrong shop (_carol singing in hatton garden_) "christians awake!"] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. george augustus sala] --------------------------------------[illustration: bakers' strike they've recently discovered that they'll never want a feed as long as they think fit to _loaf_ the less our bread we _knead_.] --------------------------------------[illustration: she: oh, john, we're next the engine." he: "never mind, we'll get there all the quicker."] --------------------------------------[illustration: the boy: "grandpa, is a jewess a she-brew?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: savage south africa "a prior engagement."] --------------------------------------[illustration: the north pole] --------------------------------------[illustration: suggestive small boy: "hi! can you spare a _copper_?"] --------------------------------------[illustration: leg-islation] --------------------------------------[illustration: intelligence department yokel: "say, sir, does i put this 'er stamp on meself?" post-assistant: "on yourself. no, on the letter, you booby."] --------------------------------------[illustration: the consuming passion "have you heard that jones has given up 'booze'?" "no, i wouldn't believe it." "but he has, and he's dead."] --------------------------------------[illustration: the down train crossing sweeper: "'ere, if you're goin' to sweep the bloomin' crossin' yerself, i'm hoff."] --------------------------------------[illustration: retired burglar: "oh, my son! always remember that it is wrong to steal on sunday."] --------------------------------------[illustration: on the brain mr. punch] [this plain-text file, containing only the captions to richard doyle's drawings, is included for completeness. the html version includes all drawings and decorative text. except for "the review" and some decorative headers, the entire book was printed in capital letters. it has been reformatted for readability; capitalization decisions are the transcriber's. text shown in +marks+ was printed in decorative blackletter type.] the foreign tour of messrs brown, jones, and robinson. being the history of what they saw, and did in belgium, germany, switzerland & italy. by richard doyle. london. bradbury & evans. whitefriars. * * * * * * * * * [london.] the mail train to dover. brown, jones, and robinson starting on their travels. [ostend.] after a rough passage, brown, jones, and robinson are here seen landed at ostend, surrounded, and a little bewildered, by the natives, who overwhelm them with attentions--seize the luggage, thrust cards into their hands, drag them in several directions at once, all talking together (which prevented their directions being so clear as they otherwise would have been)--and, finally, all expecting money! they are at the douane, waiting for the officials to search the luggage. robinson and jones (alarmed by expression of brown's countenance). --"what's the matter now?" brown (in a voice of agony). --"i've left the key of my bag at home!" [ostend to cologne.] a sketch made at malines. how they saw belgium. [cologne.] the arrival at cologne. travellers passing their examination. in the foreground is jones's portmanteau undergoing the "ordeal by touch." manner and custom of the people, as seen from the railway by brown, and made a note of. b. j. and r., who took their places on the roof the better to command the view, are seen at the moment when the idea occurred to the two former that they might possibly not "fit" under the archway. robinson is so wrapped up in thought, and a cigar, that he is unconscious of all else. this represents the cologne omnibus on its journey from the station into the city, when stopped by the military, and made to "stand and deliver" the passports. arrival at the hotel, and first coming in sight of that amiable and obliging race, the german waiter. he is small in stature (scarcely the size of life, as jones remarked), and remains always a boy. "speise-saal" hotel, cologne-enter brown, jones, and robinson, fatigued, and somewhat disordered by travel, and "so hungry." how an agent of jean maria farina addressed them, who was kind enough to put some of the celebrated "eau" upon their handkerchiefs, and to receive orders for the same. the real eau de cologne, and its effect upon the noses of three illustrious individuals. "kellner" presents the bill. they "do" cologne cathedral. [cologne to bonn.] the railway from cologne to bonn. --b. j. and r. "just in time." first glimpse of rhine scenery. [bonn.] jones's little all is contained in this small portmanteau. robinson, on the contrary, finds it quite impossible to move with less than this. this scene represents the rhine boat about to start from bonn, and passengers from the railway embarking. in the foreground an accident has occurred, a porter having upset the luggage of an english family, the head of which is saluting him with the national "damn," while the courier of the party expresses the same idea in german. [the rhine.] brown's first impression of the rhine. _from an original sketch in the possession of his family._ heads of the natives. _a leaf from brown's sketch book._ company on board the rhine boat. amongst them was a travelling tutor, and three young gentlemen, his pupils. he stood in the midst of them smiling blandly, an open volume in his hand, (probably a classic author,) between which, and his pupils, and the scenery, he divided his attention in about equal parts. there was a specimen of the english grumbler, big, burly, and as if in danger of choking from the tightness of his cravat. every one knows him, his pleasant ways, and his constant flow of good humour and cheerfulness; that is he, sitting to the right. there were besides, numerous young gentlemen from the universities, from the army, from the bar, all with more or less hair on their upper lips; and there was a cavalry officer of the russian guard, and a professor, on his way to heidelberg, and loose, dishevelled, hairy, smoky young germans, with long beards, and longer pipes. and there was a british nobleman, and a british alderman, and a british alderwoman; and there were british ladies whom i can't describe, because they wore those "ugly" things which prevent them being seen; intelligent young americans on their way all over the world; nuns, with their quiet, happy faces; red republicans from frankfort, and snobs from london. the great briton. as he stood contemplating the rhine-land, wondering if it would be possible to live in that country; and considering (supposing he had one of those castles, now) how many thousands a-year one could do it with. the scenery would do; and with english institutions it might be made a good thing of. n.b. --he little thinks what brown is doing. even the nun was not safe from brown. he is here seen taking her off, in a rapid act of sketching. b. j. and r. had just begun to enjoy the scenery, when, to their consternation, who should appear on board but the "bore," who instantly was down upon them. for three mortal hours he entertained them with fashionable intelligence, anecdotes of the aristocracy, the court circular, births, deaths, marriages, &c. this was supposed to be an m.p. travelling in search of "facts." he is giving brown his views; and also the statistics of everything. a view on the rhine. the london gent up the rhine. he is taken at the moment when expressing his opinion that the whole concern is a "do" and a "sell." british farmer and son in foreign parts. they both wore a perpetual grin and stare of surprise, jones thought that they had taken leave of england and their senses at once, owing to the withdrawal of protection. the rhine boat. brown may be seen seated there upon the paddle-box, rapidly sketching every church, ruined castle, town, or other object of interest on either bank of the river. those are jones and robinson, leaning over the side of the boat below him. observe, also, the stout party who has called for brandy-and-water, and whose countenance almost lapses into a smile as "kellner" approaches with the beverage. the tutor, it is pleasant to see, has at last put his "classic" in his pocket, and gives himself up to the undivided enjoyment of the scene, while his "young charge" is wrapped in contemplation of mechanical science as exemplified in the structure of the wheel. and that must surely be the gent who has such a low opinion of the beauty of the rhine-land, seated at the stern of the boat with his legs dangling over the river. let us hope that he is happy now! the english "milord" upon the rhine. how happy he looks! he dislikes the hum of men, and sits all day shut up in his carriage reading the literature of his country. how rude of those germans to be laughing and joking so near his lordship! perfect enjoyment. [coblentz.] indignation of robinson, at sight of inadequate washing apparatus. he rang the bell with such violence, that all the waiters rushed in, thinking that the hotel was on fire, or that a revolution had broken out. there he stood, pointing to the water, about half a pint in a basin the size of a breakfast cup; and in a voice of suppressed emotion, demanding to know if "das ist, etc." jones's night thoughts. "man wants but little here below," _but_ "wants that little long." if you should forget the number of your key and room (_as brown did on returning late from the theatre_), what are you to do? +an incident in the life of jones's dog.+ how this animal seemed to have imbibed communistic principles, and how he stole a sausage, and how the population rose like one man, and hunted him through the town. the dog having outstripped the populace, proceeds to eat the sausage. having done so, he looks stouter than he did, and is inclined to rest. the inhabitants, eager for vengeance, surround him, but are kept at bay by the expression of his countenance. one burly peasant having the hardihood to approach too near, he is made as example of. _exeunt omnes._ [the rhine.] brown, with noble perseverance, sits upon the paddle-box, regardless of the storm, and sketches the castles and towns, as the steam-boat passes them. --till in a moment of grief his hat and several sketches were carried off for ever: and then he thought it time to go below. how a citizen of the united states addressed brown; and how he put the following questions during the first five minutes of their acquaintance. 1. "where are you going?" 2. "what place do you hail from?" 3. "conclude you go toe frankfort?" 4. "you're mr. brown, i reckon?" 5. "what names do your friends go by?" statements made during the same period. 1. "this here rhine ain't much by the side of our mississippi." 2. "old europe is 'tarnally chawed up." brown's hat. robinson was very merry about this incident, and both he and jones kept poking fun at brown during the rest of the day. they parodied the well known song of "my heart's on the rhine," substituting "my hat's in the rhine;"--(it was very poor stuff, we have been assured by brown)--and they made pointed allusions to the name of "wide-awake." the above drawing is from a rude sketch by jones. the scenery becomes mysterious. they now became enveloped in what seemed a combination of fog (london november) and mist (scotch). only think of those two national institutions going up the rhine with the rest of the fashionable world. at first it obscured the hill tops, with the ruins thereon; then the villages and vineyards below; and finally both banks of the river entirely disappeared. the company on board the steamboat did not, at this period, present the most cheerful aspect. [mayence to frankfort.] how robinson's favourite portmanteau, which he had forgotten to lock, was dropped accidentally by a porter while conveying it to the omnibus. jones hints to robinson that it is time to get up. [frankfort.] how they visited a "quarter" of the city of frankfort, and what they saw there! robinson here wrote his celebrated letter to the "times," on the subject of the deficiency of soap and water, from which, as we have seen in a former page, he suffered so grievously. it was conceived in terms of indignant eloquence; and drew a terrible picture of the state of social, political, and religious degradation into which a country must have sunk, where such things could be tolerated. as they walked through the town, bent upon seeing the ariadne, and unconscious of danger, suddenly an object appeared in sight that filled them with terror. it was the "bore!" stepping jauntily along on the other side of the street. to hesitate was to be lost! so they plunged into the nearest shop for protection, and stood there breathless with expectation and fear. presently jones--putting his head very gradually out--reconnoitred, and finding all safe they resumed their way. robinson thinks it "the thing" to encourage native industry wherever he goes, and so buys a german pipe. [heidelberg.] "kellner!" while brown, jones, and robinson supped, a party of philosophers carry on an æsthetical discussion, with an accompaniment of pipes and beer. "* * * the night was beautiful, so we determined after supper to have a look at the celebrated castle--jones and i did, that is to say, for robinson was so fatigued with travel that he declined moving, muttering something about 'castle can wait.' we ascended; the moon shone brightly through the ruins, and bathed the landscape in its silvery light, the beautiful neckar flowing at our feet. under us lay the town, a thousand lights twinkling in the stillness." *  * "suddenly, to our horror, there appeared upon the terrace 'the bore!'" --_extract from brown's journal._ "at last he left us. but not before he had taken from his pocket a letter received that morning from green ('you know green, of course,' he said, 'everybody does'), and read it aloud from beginning to end. it told of a 'good thing' said at the club by smith; and of two marriages, and a duel likely to come off, besides several interesting particulars regarding the winner of the st. leger." --_ibid._ when jones and brown were left once more alone, they wandered and pondered amongst the ruins, and moralised over the instability of things--they were even becoming sentimental--when, suddenly, a terrific sound was heard--like the barking of a dog--and the next moment the animal himself was seen emerging from the darkness, and making towards them at the top of his speed. they turned and fled! meeting by moonlight. robinson, after the departure of jones and brown, seated himself before the fire and fell fast asleep. he continued in that state, notwithstanding that the philosophers became very noisy, and even warlike. --and although--after the latter had retired (fortunately without coming to blows)--his chair toppled over, he quietly assumed a horizontal position. fancy the feelings of jones and brown on returning, and finding their friend lying on his back upon the floor, snoring! they lifted him up, and carried him off to bed. next morning they entertained robinson with a thrilling account of the dangers of their expedition, in which that dreadful dog filled a very large space. the above will give some faint idea of what they pictured to themselves (and to robinson). [the review.] brown, jones, and robinson have arrived at ----, the capital of ----, a small german state (we won't say which, as it would be giving it an undue distinction, and might offend the others). they have been received with distinguished consideration, the "local" paper having announced their arrival as count robinson, sir brown, and the rev. jones. they have been invited to be present at a grand review, and robinson--who amongst other necessaries in those portmanteaus of his, carried a uniform as captain of yeomanry--thought that this was just the proper occasion to appear in it. accordingly, he rode on to the ground upon a charger (hired), in the character of a warrior, with a solemnity of countenance befitting the scene and his country, and accompanied by jones (also mounted), but in the costume of an ordinary individual of the period. brown preferred going on foot. that is robinson in the centre. just at the time when he ought to be riding up the line, inspecting the troops with the grand duke and his staff--his horse (a "disgusting brute," as robinson afterwards described him, "who could not have been in the habit of carrying gentlemen") suddenly stood on his hind legs, in the very middle of the field, so that his rider was forced to cling on to him in an absurd manner, in full view of the army, the people, and the court. r. at that moment earnestly desired that the earth might open and swallow him. key to the cartoon. 1. robinson. 2. the grand duke. 3. the crown prince. 4. the rest of the serene family. 5. mr. jones. 6. the population. 7. mr. jones's dog. 8. mr. brown. 9. the army. 10. distant view of the capital. 11. foreign visitors. 12. monument to late duke. [baden.] a scene at baden. the right of search. +of the adventure that befel jones.+ i. jones's dog having come upon a sentinel, and struck, perhaps, by his small size compared with the sentinels he is used to, commences to say, "bow!--wow!--wow!--wew--u--u!" the soldier, offended by these remarks, presents for the animal's consideration, the point of his bayonet. ii. jones expostulates, with that freedom of speech which is the birthright of every englishman. iii. but obtaining no satisfaction, calls on the miserable foreigner to "come on." iv. first (and last) round. --the soldier did "come on," frowning. jones received him, smiling. --the soldier made play with his musket: jones put in his left. they closed, and a terrific struggle ensued, in the course of which jones got his adversary's "nob" into "chancery." v. the soldier, at this point, unable to use his arms, took to his legs, and administered a series of kicks upon the shins of jones, who in return seized him, lifted him in the air, and threw him. vi. then, considering that justice and the honour of his country were alike satisfied, he retired, leaving the body of his antagonist on the field. vii. shows the "body," on discovering that life was not extinct, attempting to rise. p.s. --he was last seen making frantic efforts to regain his feet, and seemingly prevented from doing so by the weight of his knapsack, and other accoutrements. viii. jones was late at breakfast; he found robinson reading "galignani," and brown looking out of window, and after giving them an amusing account of the fun he had had, was just sitting down to the table, when brown shouted out, "by jove, there is a regiment of soldiers coming down the street!" ix. at first jones was incredulous; but presently brown, his hair standing on end, rushed towards him, and in a voice of agony, cried, "as sure as we are alive they have stopped in front of the house, and the _officer is coming in!_" x. it was too true. the soldiers had come to look after the englishman who had attacked and beaten their comrade. xi. after a few moments of breathless suspense, the officer enters--jones stands like a man about to struggle with adversity. xii. nevertheless he is arrested and marched off. xiii. robinson, in agony, calls for his coat and hat, "for," as he cried out to brown, "not a moment is to be lost in endeavouring to see the british minister." xiv. they gain an audience of his excellency the british minister, and ask his interference in behalf of a persecuted countryman. we are happy to add that the interference was quite successful. jones was liberated immediately, and shortly afterwards the british minister for foreign affairs, in a despatch to the german minister for the same, expressed his conviction that "the whole civilised world reprobated, with one voice, a system at once tyrannical and cruel, a remnant of the darkest ages of man's history, and utterly unworthy of the present era of progress and enlightenment." our friends were advised, however, to leave the country as soon and as quietly as possible. they departed accordingly. [baden to basle.] head-dresses of peasantry. a sketch on the road to basle. how brown and jones went in a third class carriage (robinson would not; it did not seem "respectable"), that they might see the natives, and how b. drew the portrait of one, to her evident dissatisfaction. the omnibus besieged and taken by storm. [basle.] "the height of the omnibusses is quite disgusting." --_extract from unpublished documents in possession of robinson, who himself fell in the mud, while climbing from the roof of one of those vehicles._ scene from the road, near basle. storks' nest, basle. [switzerland.] boat station on the lake of lucerne; as sketched by brown from the steamer. according to the guide-book, the paintings on the wall represent furst, stauffach, and melchthal, swearing to liberate their country; but jones said he believed them to be portraits of a medieval swiss brown, jones, and robinson, in the act of vowing eternal friendship. the safest way of coming down a mountain. "we got out of the diligence (at a time when it was obliged to go very slowly), in order to make an excursion on foot in search of the picturesque, being told that we might meet the carriage at a certain point, about a mile further on. we saw many magnificent views, and did a great deal of what might be called rough walking; but perhaps the thing that struck us most was, that on emerging at the appointed spot for rejoining the diligence, we beheld it a speck in the distance, just departing out of sight." --_extract from jones's journal._ the seven ages of robinson's beard. what are they to do now? descent of the st. gothard. having taken their places on the outside of the diligence, brown, jones, and robinson can the better enjoy the grandeur of the scenery. they see italy in the distance. a meeting on the mountain. pilgrims coming _down_ the "hill of difficulty." [italy.] breakfast at bellinzona. it was their first day in italy, and how they did enjoy it! the repast was served in a stone summer-house attached to the hotel. the sun was so bright, and so hot; the sky was so blue, the vegetation so green, the mountains so purple, the grapes so large, and everything so beautiful, that brown and jones both decided that the scene fully realised all their imaginings of italy. robinson was enthusiastic, too, at first, and was beginning to say something about "italia, o italia," when his eye lit upon a green lizard running up the wall. from that moment he was more subdued. how they got robinson up the hills. [italian lakes.] they land upon austrian territory en route for milan. while the "proper officer" takes possession of their passports, the whole available population pounces upon the luggage, and, after apportioning it into "small allotments," carries it off to the custom house. the official here is seen "pointing" on the scent (as he thinks) of contraband goods in one of robinson's portmanteaus. he did not "find," but in the hunt, tossed r.'s "things" dreadfully. brown revenged the wrongs of self and friends, by taking a full length, on the spot, of that imposing administrator, who stands over there, with the passports in his hand. "excelsior!" an italian view. "buon giorno." evening on the lago maggiore. "'knowest thou the land' where the grapes are as plentiful as blackberries in england; and where one has only to stop a minute at the roadside, and pull no end of 'em. o 'tis there! 'tis there! etc." --_robinson's letters to his kinsfolk._ marie. oh! marie of the lago d'orta, maid of the inn, and most beautiful of waitresses, how well do i remember thee! how graceful were all thy movements; what natural ease, together with what a dignified reserve; --how truly a lady wert thou! you did not know it, but when you waited upon us, i always felt inclined to jump up from my chair, and open the door for you-to take the dishes from your hands, to ask you respectfully to be seated, to wait upon you in fact. and o! how i did detest that wicked old landlady, your mistress, who used to bully and scold you. and i wonder whether you remember me. --_from a ms., very rare, in possession of brown._ this picture represents brown as he appeared, his feelings being "too many for him," on hearing that elderly she-dragon, the landlady, venting her ill-humour upon the gentle marie. he stole out of the dining-room, looked over into the yard, and there beheld the furious old female shaking her fist, and pouring forth a torrent of abuse. brown was not naturally of a savage temperament, but at that moment he felt that he could have--but it is best not to say what he could have done--it was too terrible for publication in these pages. a boat at orta. a mountain walk. robinson, with warmth, and some distance behind,-"what is the use of going on at that rate?" poor jones! who would have thought he could ever be tired! pleasant. the accident that befell robinson. --no. 1. the accident that befell robinson. --no. 2. [orta.] robinson retires for the night. to prevent anxiety, we had better state that he is tired--nothing else. "now do, robinson, jump up like a good fellow; we ought to be starting now--and think how pleasant it will be, once you are up!" [varallo.] the inn. how brown, returning from sketching, was beset by beggars in a lonely place. [milan.] they pay a visit to the marionette theatre. a snob they saw writing his name upon roof of milan cathedral. enlightened behaviour in a foreign church. we are happy to say, that b. j. and r. had no connection with the above party. robinson's determination to let his beard grow "naturally," had an absurd result, the hair growing in violent and abrupt crops in some places, and not at all in others; so that jones, who was sensitive about appearances, (and whose own moustache was doing beautifully,) insisted at last upon r.'s being shaved, which event accordingly took place in the city of milan. it was well that robinson consented, for the barber eyed him eagerly, and as if he would spring upon him and shave him by force. café milan.--sudden and unexpected arrival of distinguished foreigners. the moment we seated ourselves in a café, an awful group of beggars stood before us--so suddenly that they appeared to have come up through a trap-door--and demanded alms. they would not go without money, and when they got it they took it as a right. it would not do for one of us to "settle" with them for the whole party, for no sooner had i given them a coin than they turned to jones, and when done with him, coolly set upon robinson. the instant one tribe departed, a fresh relais arrived, so that there was a constant supply (of beggars) and demand (on our purses). no place seemed safe: in the most magnificent and luxuriously-decorated cafés they had perfect right of way, the contrast between the rich gilding, glass, fountains, etc., of the one, and the rags, dirt, and dramatically got-up horrors of the other being picturesque, but certainly not pleasant; and yet, as jones remarked, they say this country has not free institutions. [verona.] the amphitheatre, verona. jones asks robinson, whether he "sees before him the gladiator die?" but robinson maintains a dignified silence. austrian detective stops brown to examine his sketching stool. it puzzles him. there is an air of mystery about it. it might possibly be a weapon to be used for political purposes, or an infernal machine! who knows? on the whole, he thinks he had better detain it. scene--discovers brown sketching. enter the austrian army. they advance upon him, they think he is taking the fortifications. robinson, who is much given to quotation, is, at the very moment, languidly reciting the lines:- "am i in italy? is this the mincius? and those the distant turrets of verona? and shall i sup where juliet at the masque saw her loved montague?" --etc., etc. not being familiar with the german, or the croatian language, brown is helpless. he protests his innocence, but the military don't understand him. they see treason in his hat, which is of an illegal shape, and they arrest him. jones and robinson appear, to the surprise of the military, and relief of brown. brown, quite resigned, walks quietly to meet his fate. jones plunges violently, but is finally overcome. robinson resists passively, and is accordingly dragged along. sketches found upon brown. they are brought before the governor. that is he seated at the table, the soldiers showing him the libellous representations of the croats found in brown's portfolio. the latter expects to be ordered for instant execution; but jones assumes an air of great dignity, and says, "_civis romanus sum_." the governor, field-marshal lieutenant count brown, of the imperial service, discovers in his prisoner a near relation of his own; and our friend is instantly locked in the embrace of that distinguished warrior. jones remarked "all's well that ends well;" and robinson, greatly relieved, broke out with:- "thus may each" nephew "whom chance directs, find an" uncle "when he least expects." [venice.] examination of passports. hotel. modern venetian troubadours. an evening scene before the café florian, piazza san marco. brown at this period undertook, at the urgent request of jones and robinson, to settle the accounts of the party, which had become complicated owing to that perplexing "medium," to those unused to it, the austrian paper money. this is a faithful picture of the unfortunate man as he sat, in the solitude of his chamber, until a late hour of the night, drawing up the "financial" statement. robinson (_solo_). --"i stood in venice," etc.; jones and brown, having heard something like it before, have walked on a little way. _reflection made by brown._ --why do people when repeating poetry always look unhappy? enjoyment! a scene upon the grand canal. the theatre malibran. the entertainment commenced at 5 p.m., and lasted till 7. it consisted of a melodrama, full of awful crimes, and the most pathetic sentiment. the audience, chiefly composed of "the people," was, from beginning to end, in an extraordinary state of excitement, fizzing, like the perpetual going off of soda-water. the theatre was lighted (?) by about four oil lamps; and such was the darkness, that our travellers--who may be seen, perhaps, through the "dim obscure," up in a private box--could scarcely discern anything but the white uniform and glittering bayonet of an austrian sentinel in the pit. [a night in venice.] brown retired to rest. misery. note.-if the musquitos appear rather large in this and the following scenes, let it be remembered that in the "heroic" it was a principle of many of the great painters to exaggerate the "parts." desperation. momentary relief. madness! bell!! boots!! despair!!!! [venice.] the accademia. gondola on the lagoon. sentiment spoken by robinson, with marks of adhesion from brown and jones. "oh, if there be an elysium on earth, it is this, it is this!!" +the accademia.+ scene i. brown (soliloquy). --"this is pleasant! to be quite alone here (dab), surrounded by these magnificent works (dab, dab, dab), and everything so quiet too--nothing to disturb one." (dab) after a pause. "i wonder what jones and robinson are doing (dab, splash)--lying at full length in a gondola, i dare say--smoking (dab), i think i could spend my life in this place" (dab, dab). "it is difficult to say which is the greatest pleasure, (another dab,) copying these splendid pictures, or painting from nature, those beautiful blue skies and crumbling old picturesque palaces, outside." (sings) --"'how happy could i be with either.'" (prolonged pause, and great play with brush) --"oh! that sunset last evening! as we lay out in our gondola upon the perfectly calm waters, by the armenian convent, and watched the sun slowly going down behind the distant towers and spires of the 'city of the sea'--one mass of gold spreading all over the west!" *  * "oh! those clouds! (another pause) ah! that was happiness. one such hour is worth--let me see--how many years of one's life? *  * and yet this is--" scene ii. he is set upon and surrounded by an english family, and the following dialogue ensues:-the mamma. --"what a delightful occupation, to be sure." young lady (in a whisper). --"he is copying the tintoret." youthful son and heir (with confidence). --"no, he ain't; he's doing that stunning big one with the rainbow, and three river gods." second young lady. --"it's sweetly pretty, isn't it!" papa (a british merchant, and of a practical turn). --"very good--v-e-r-y good. ahem! now i wonder what one could make a year by that kind of thing." young man (with glass in his eye). --"slow, i should think." at this point brown's attention was attracted to a scuffle going on behind him amongst the junior members of the party. two of the little innocents had taken a fancy to the same drawing (a copy of his favourite john bellino), and after a brief, but fierce struggle for possession, had settled the difficulty by tearing it in two. (party retires rather precipitately.) [trieste to vienna.] sketch made by brown at trieste. note.--if any one doubts the fact, jones and robinson are ready to make affidavit of it. robinson searched and indignant. such things never happen anywhere else. [vienna.] arrived at vienna, they visit the theatre. a gentleman there, unobtrusively pays them great attention. scene--shop, vienna. jones to brown-"what do you say?" brown (who sees that robinson is bent upon making a "magnificent addition" to himself, and that it is useless to expostulate). --"oh, i think it is splendid; and if you will only appear in it in pall mall, when we get home again, you will make a sensation." they visit the picture galleries. that man in the doorway seems to take a great interest in their movements. the promenade. brown thinks it is the same man! what can he want? the public garden. there he was again! jones suggested that perhaps it was a government official, who took them for liberty, equality, and fraternity. no sooner did they take their places at the table d'hote to dine, than brown fell back in his chair. there could be no doubt about it--he was better dressed than before--but it was the same man! he must be a spy! jones at the opera abroad. how unlike jones at the opera at home. [vienna to prague.] "just ten minutes to dress, breakfast, and get to the train." [prague.] wallenstein's horse. "the head, neck, legs, and part of the body have been repaired--all the rest is the real horse." --_from speech of the young woman who showed the animal._ a "kneipe" at prague. robinson is so confused with rapid travelling, that he addresses a waiter in three languages at once. "kellner!-mittags-essen pour trois-presto presto-and-waiter!-soda water-col cognac-geschwind!" table d'hote, prague. [prague to cologne.] "passports!" --"that's the sixth time we have been woke up," groaned robinson. [rhineland again.] dusseldorf. brown _loq._ --i have left my bag behind! minden. here is the bag. how brown was seated between two soldiers, and how they would examine each other's swords, and how those fearful weapons were flashing about, often within an inch of b.'s nose: and how (being of a mild and peaceful disposition), b. was kept thereby in a constant state of uneasiness. [belgium.] eye of the government; as kept upon the travellers, during their stay in the austrian dominions. --_drawn from the haunted imagination of brown._ their last repast in foreign parts. time and train wait for no man. articles purchased by robinson. 1. eau de cologne. 2. pipe; (never smoked.) 3. hat; (never worn, and found decidedly in the way.) 4. cigars; (stopped at custom house.) 5. tauchnitz editions; (also seized.) 6. cornet à pistons; (bought in germany with the intention of learning to play upon it some day.) 7. gloves; (purchased at venice, a great bargain, and found utterly worthless.) [old england.] +sic(k) transit+ +gloria mundi!+ * * * * * * * * * bradbury and evans, printers extraordinary to the queen, whitefriars. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * errors and iconsistencies (noted by transcriber): they both wore a perpetual grin and stare of surprise, [comma in original: error for period (full stop)?] 3. "conclude you go toe frankfort?" [text unchanged] an evening scene before the café florain [error for florian] if the musquitos appear rather large [variant spelling unchanged] +of the adventure that befel jones.+ the accident that befell robinson. [inconsistent spelling unchanged] sketches by seymour part 3. the jolly anglers. on a grassy bank, beside a meandering stream, sat two gentlemen averaging forty years of age. the day was sultry, and, weary of casting their lines without effect, they had stuck their rods in the bank, and sought, in a well-filled basket of provisions and copious libations of bottled porter, to dissipate their disappointment. "ain't this jolly? and don't you like a day's fishing, sam?" "o! werry much, werry much," emphatically replied his friend, taking his pipe from his mouth. "ah! but some people don't know how to go a-fishinq, sam; they are such fools." "that's a werry good remark o' your'n," observed sam; "i daresay as how hangling is werry delightful vhen the fishes vill bite; but vhen they von't, vhy they von't, and vot's the use o' complaining. hangling is just like writing: for instance--you begins vith, 'i sends you this 'ere line hoping,' and they don't nibble; vell! that's just the same as not hanswering; and, as i takes it, there the correspondence ends!" "exactly; i'm quite o' your opinion," replied his companion, tossing off a bumper of barclay's best; "i say, sammy, we mustn't empty t'other bottle tho'." "vhy not?" "cos, do you see, i'm just thinking ve shall vant a little porter to carry us home: for, by jingo! i don't think as how either of us can toddle--that is respectably!" "nonsense! i'd hundertake to walk as straight as a harrow; on'y, i must confess, i should like to have a snooze a'ter my pipe; i'm used to it, d'ye see, and look for it as nat'rally as a babby does." "vell, but take t'other glass for a nightcap; for you know, sammy, if you sleep vithout, you may catch cold: and, vhatever you do, don't snore, or you'll frighten the fish." "naughty fish!" replied sammy, "they know they're naughty too, or else they voud'nt be so afear'd o' the rod!--here's your health;" and he tossed off the proffered bumper. "excuse me a-rising to return thanks," replied his friend, grasping sammy's hand, and looking at him with that fixed and glassy gaze which indicates the happy state of inebriety, termed maudlin; "i know you're a sincere friend, and there ain't nobody as i value more: man and boy have i knowed you; you're unchanged! you're the same!! there ain't no difference!!! and i hope you may live many years to go a-fishing, and i may live to see it, sammy. yes, old boy, this here's one of them days that won't be forgotten: it's engraved on my memory deep as the words on a tombstone, 'here he lies! here he lies!'" he repeated with a hiccup, and rolled at full length across his dear friend. sammy, nearly as much overcome as his friend, lifted up his head, and sticking his hat upon it, knocked it over his eyes, and left him to repose; and, placing his own back against an accommodating tree, he dropped his pipe, and then followed the example of his companion. after a few hours deep slumber, they awoke. the sun had gone down, and evening had already drawn her star-bespangled mantle over the scene of their festive sport. arousing themselves, they sought for their rods, and the remnants of their provisions, but they were all gone. "my hey! sammy, if somebody bas'nt taken advantage of us. my watch too has gone, i declare." "and so's mine!" exclaimed sammy, feeling his empty fob. "vell, if this ain't a go, never trust me." "i tell you vot it is, sammy; some clever hartist or another has seen us sleeping, like the babes in the wood, and has drawn us at full length!" the bill-sticker. what a mysterious being is the bill-sticker! how seldom does he make himself visible to the eyes of the people. nay, i verily believe there are thousands in this great metropolis that never saw a specimen. we see the effect, but think not of the cause. he must work at his vocation either at night or at early dawn, before the world is stirring. that he is an industrious being, and sticks to business, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt, for every dead-wall is made lively by his operations, and every hoard a fund of information--in such type, too, that he who runs may read. what an indefatigable observer he must be; for there is scarcely a brick or board in city or suburb, however newly erected, in highway or byeway, but is speedily adorned by his handiwork --aye, and frequently too in defiance of the threatening--"bill-stickers, beware!"--staring him in the face. like nature, he appears to abhor a vacuum. when we behold the gigantic size of some of the modern arches, we are almost led to suppose that the bill-sticker carries about his placards in a four-wheeled waggon, and that his paste-pot is a huge cauldron! how he contrives to paste and stick such an enormous sheet so neatly against the rugged side of a house, is really astonishing. whether three or four stories high, the same precision is remarkable. we cannot but wonder at the dexterity of his practised hand: the union is as perfect as if dan hymen, the saffron-robed joiner, had personally superintended the performance. the wind is perhaps the only real enemy he has to fear. how his heart and his flimsy paper must flutter in the unruly gusts of a march wind! we only imagine him pasting up a "sale of horses," in a retired nook, and seeing his bill carried away on an eddy! we once had the good fortune to witness a gusty freak of this kind. the bill-sticker had affixed a bill upon the hooks of his stick, displaying in prominent large characters--"sale by auction--mr. geo. robins--capital investment,"--and so forth, when a sudden whirlwind took the bill off the hooks, before it was stuck, and fairly enveloped the countenance of a dandy gentleman who happened at the moment to be turning the corner. such a "capital investment" was certainly ludicrous in the extreme. the poor bill-sticker was rather alarmed, for he had never stuck a bill before on any front that was occupied. he peeled the gentleman as quickly as possible, and stammered out an apology. the sufferer, however, swore he would prefer a bill against him at the ensuing sessions. whether his threat was carried into execution, or he was satisfied with the damages already received, we know not. old foozle. there is a certain period of life beyond which the plastic mind of man becomes incapable of acquiring any new impressions. he merely elaborates and displays the stores he has garnered up in his youth. there are indeed some rare exceptions to the rule; but few, very few, can learn a language after the age of forty. 'tis true that cowper did not commence the composition of his delightful poems till he had attained that age; but then it must be remembered that he had previously passed a life of study and preparation, and that he merely gave the honey to the world which he had hived in his youth, bringing to the task a mind polished and matured by judgment and experience. but, generally speaking, we rather expect reason than rhyme from an elderly gentleman; and when the reverse is the case, the pursuit fits them as ridiculously as would a humming-top or a hoop. yet there are many who, having passed a life in the sole occupation of making money--the most unpoetical of all avocations--that in their retirement entertain themselves with such fantastic pranks and antics, as only serve to amuse the lookers-on. a retired tradesman, it is true, may chase ennui and the 'taedium vitae,' by digging and planting in his kitchen-garden, or try his hand at rearing tulips and hyacinths; but if he vainly attempt any other art, or dabble in light literature or heavy philosophy, he is lost. old foozle was one of those who, having accumulated wealth, retire with their housekeepers to spend the remnant of their days in some suburban retreat, the monotony of whose life is varied by monthly trips to town to bring tea and grocery, or purchase some infallible remedy for their own gout, or their housekeeper's rheumatism. unfortunately for his peace, old foozle accidentally dipped into a tattered tome of "walton's complete angler;" and the vivid description of piscatorial pleasures therein set forth so won upon his mind, that he forthwith resolved to taste them. in vain were the remonstrances of his nurse, friend, and factotum. the experiment must be tried. having more money than wit to spare, he presently supplied himself with reels and rods and tackle, landing-nets and gentle-boxes, and all the other necessary paraphernalia of the art. donning his best wig and spectacles, he sallied forth, defended from the weather by a short spencer buttoned round his loins, and a pair of double-soled shoes and short gaiters. so eager was he to commence, that he no sooner espied a piece of water, than, with trembling hands, he put his rod together, and displayed his nets, laying his basket, gaping for the finny prey, on the margin of the placid waters. with eager gaze he watched his newly-varnished and many-coloured float, expecting every-moment to behold it sink, the inviting bait being prepared 'secundum artem.' he had certainly time for reflection, for his float had been cast at least an hour, and still remained stationary; from which he wisely augured that he was most certainly neither fishing in a running stream nor in troubled waters. presently a ragged urchin came sauntering along, and very leisurely seated himself upon a bank near the devoted angler. curiosity is natural to youth, thought foozle--how i shall make the lad wonder when i pull out a wriggling fish! but still another weary hour passed, and the old gentleman's arms and loins began to ache from the novel and constrained posture in which he stood. he grew nervous and uneasy at the want of sport; and thinking that perhaps the little fellow was acquainted with the locality, he turned towards him, saying, in the blandest but still most indifferent tone he could assume, lest he should compromise his dignity by exposing his ignorance-"i say, jack, are there any fish in this pond?" "there may be, sir," replied the boy, pulling his ragged forelock most deferentially, for old foozle had an awful churchwarden-like appearance; "there may be, but i should think they were weary small, 'cause there vos no vater in this here pond afore that there rain yesterday." the sallow cheeks of the old angler were tinged with a ruddy glow, called up by the consciousness of his ridiculous position. taking a penny from his pocket, he bade the boy go buy some cakes: and no sooner had he gallopped off, than the disappointed waltonian hastily packed up his tackle, and turned his steps homeward; and this was the first and last essay of old foozle. the "crack-shots." no. i. a club, under the imposing style of the "crack-shots," met every wednesday evening, during the season, at a house of public entertainment in the salubrious suburbs of london, known by the classical sign of the "magpye and stump." besides a trim garden and a small close-shaven grass-plat in the rear (where elderly gentlemen found a cure for 'taedium vitae' and the rheumatism in a social game of bowls), there was a meadow of about five or six acres, wherein a target was erected for the especial benefit of the members of this celebrated club; we say celebrated, because, of all clubs that ever made a noise in the world, this bore away the palm-according to the reports in the neighbourhood. emulation naturally caused excitement, and the extraordinary deeds they performed under its influence we should never have credited, had we not received the veracious testimony of--the members themselves. after the trials of skill, they generally spent the evenings together. jack saggers was the hero of the party; or perhaps he might be more appropriately termed the "great gun," and was invariably voted to the chair. he made speeches, which went off admirably; and he perpetrated puns which, like his joe manton, never missed fire, being unanimously voted admirable hits by the joyous assembly. their pleasures and their conversation might truly be said to be of a piece. "gentlemen"--said jack, one evening rising upon his legs--"do me the favour to charge. are you all primed and loaded? i am about to propose the health of a gentleman, who is not only an honour to society at large, but to the 'crack-shots' in particular. gentlemen, the mere mention of the name of brother sniggs--(hear! hear!)--i know will call forth a volley!--(hear! hear!) gentlemen, i give you the health of brother sniggs! make ready, present and fire!" up went the glasses, and down went the liquor in a trice, followed by three times three, jack saggers giving the time, and acting as "fugle-man." sniggs, nervously fingering his tumbler of "half and half," as if he wanted the spirit to begin, hemmed audibly, and "having three times shook his head to stir his wit, thus he said," "gentlemen, i don't know how it is, but somehows the more a man has to say, the more he can't! i feel, for all the world, like a gun rammed tight and loaded to the muzzle, but without flint or priming----" "prime!" exclaimed jack saggers; and there was a general titter, and then he continued; "as we cannot let you off sniggs, you most go on, you know." "gentlemen," resumed sniggs, "i feel indeed so overloaded by the honors you have conferred on me, that i cannot find words to express my gratitude. i can only thank you, and express my sincere wish that your shots may always tell." and he sat down amidst unbounded applause. "by no means a-miss!" cried jack saggers. "a joke of mine, when i knocked down a bird the other morning," said sniggs: "you must know i was out early, and had just brought down my bird, when leaping into the adjoining field to pick it up, a bird-catcher, who had spread his nets on the dewy grass, walked right up to me." "i've a visper for you, sir," says he, as cool as a cucumber; "i don't vish to be imperlite, but next time you shoots a bird vot i've brought to my call, i'll shoot you into a clay-pit, that's all!" "and pray what did you say, sniggs?" asked jack saggers. "say?--nothing! but i looked unutterable things, and--shouldering my piece--walked off!" the "crack-shots." no. ii. "sniggs's rencontre with the bird-catcher reminds me of tom swivel's meeting with the doctor," observed smart. "make a report," cried jack saggers. "well, you must know, that i had lent him my piece for a day's shooting; and just as he was sauntering along by a dead wall near hampstead, looking both ways at once for a quarry (for he has a particular squint), a stout gentleman in respectable black, and topped by a shovel-hat, happened to be coming in the opposite direction. with an expression of terror, the old gentleman drew himself up against the unyielding bricks, and authoritatively extending his walking-stick, addressed our sportsman in an angry tone, saying: 'how dare you carry a loaded gun pointed at people's viscera, you booby?' now tom is a booby, and no mistake, and so dropping his under jaw and staring at the reverend, he answered: 'i don't know vot you mean by a wiserar. i never shot a wiserar!'" "devilish good!" exclaimed saggers; and, as a matter of course, everybody laughed. passing about the bottle, the club now became hilarious and noisy; when the hammer of the president rapped them to order, and knocked down sniggs for a song, who, after humming over the tune to himself, struck up the following: chaunt when the snow's on the ground and the trees are all bare, and rivers and gutters are turned into ice, the sportsman goes forth to shoot rabbit or hare, and gives them a taste of his skill in a trice. bang! bang! goes his joe, and the bird's fall like snow, and he bags all he kills in a trice. chorus. bang! bang! goes his joe, and the bird's fall like snow, and he bags all he kills in a trice. ii. if he puts up a partridge or pheasant or duck, he marks him, and wings him, and brings him to earth; he let's nothing fly--but his piece--and good luck his bag fills with game and his bosom with mirth. bang! bang! goes his joe, and the bird's fall like snow, and good sport fills his bosom with mirth. chorus. bang! bang! et. etc. iii. when at night he unbends and encounters his pals, how delighted he boasts of the sport he has had; while a kind of round game's on the board, and gals are toasted in bumpers by every lad. and jack, jim, and joe give the maid chaste as snow that is true as a shot to her lad! chorus. and jack, jim and joe give the maid chaste as snow that is true as a shot to her lad! the customary applause having followed this vocal attempt of sniggs, he was asked for a toast or a sentiment. "here's--'may the charitable man never know the want of--'shot.'" said sniggs. "excellent!" exclaimed saggers, approvingly; "by jupiter tonans, sniggs, you're a true son of--a gun!" the "crack-shots."--no. iii. "sich a lark!" said bill sorrel, breaking abruptly in upon the noisy chorus, miscalled a general conversation; "sich a lark!" "where?" demanded saggers. "you've jist hit it," replied sorrel, "for it vere worry near 'vare vhere it happened. i'd gone hout hearly, you know, and had jist cotched sight of a bird a-vistling on a twig, and puttered the vords, 'i'll spile your singin', my tight 'un,' and levelled of my gun, ven a helderly gentleman, on t'other side of the bank vich vos atween me and the bird, pops up his powdered noddle in a jiffy, and goggling at me vith all his eyes, bawls pout in a tantivy of a fright, 'you need'nt be afear'd, sir,' says i, 'i aint a-haiming at you,' and vith that i pulls my trigger-bang! vell, i lost my dicky! and ven i looks for the old 'un, by jingo! i'd lost him too. so i mounts the bank vere he sot, but he vas'nt there; so i looks about, and hobserves a dry ditch at the foot, and cocking my eye along it, vhy, i'm blessed, if i did'nt see the old fellow a-scampering along as fast as his legs could carry him. did'nt i laugh, ready to split--that's all!" "i tell you what, sorrel," said the president, with mock gravity, "i consider the whole affair, however ridiculous, most immoral and reprehensible. what, shall a crack-shot make a target of an elder? never! let us seek more appropriate butts for our barrels! you may perhaps look upon the whole as a piece of pleasantry but let me tell you that you ran a narrow chance of being indicted for a breach of the peace! and remember, that even shooting a deer may not prove so dear a shot as bringing down an old buck!" this humorous reproof was applauded by a "bravo!" from the whole club. sorrel sang--small, and sniggs sang another sporting ditty. "our next meeting," resumed saggers, "is on thursday next when the pigeon-match takes place for a silver-cup--the 'crack shots' against the 'oriental club.' i think we shall give them i taste of our quality,' although we do not intend that they shall lick us. the silver-cup is their own proposal. the contest being a pigeon-match, i humbly proposed, as an amendment, that the prize should be a tumbler--which i lost by a minority of three. in returning thanks, i took occasion to allude to their rejection of my proposition, and ironically thanked them for having cut my tumbler." "werry good!" shouted sorrel. "admirable!" exclaimed sniggs; and, rising with due solemnity, he proposed the health of the "worthy president," prefacing his speech with the modest avowal of his inability to do what he still persisted in doing and did. "brother shots!" said saggers, after the usual honours had been duly performed, "i am so unaccustomed to speaking (a laugh), that i rise with a feeling of timidity to thank you for the distinguished honour you have conferred on me. praise, like wine, elevates a man, but it likewise thickens and obstructs his speech; therefore, without attempting any rhetorical flourish, i will simply say, i sincerely thank you all for the very handsome manner in which you have responded to the friendly wishes of brother sniggs; and, now as the hour of midnight is at hand, i bid you farewell. it is indeed difficult to part from such good company; but, although it is morally impossible there ever can be a division among such cordial friends, both drunk and sober may at least separate--in spirits, --and i trust we shall all meet again in health--farewell!" doctor spraggs. old doctor spraggs! famed doctor spraggs! was both well fee'd and fed, and, tho' no soldier, doctor spraggs had for his country-bled. his patients living far and wide he was compell'd to buy a horse; and found no trouble, for he'd got one in his eye! he was a tall and bony steed and warranted to trot, and so he bought the trotter, and of course four trotters got. quoth he: "in sunshine quick he bounds "across the verdant plain, "and, e'en when showers fall, he proves "he--doesn't mind the rain!" but, oh! one morn, when doctor spraggs was trotting on his way, a field of sportsmen came in view, and made his courser neigh. "nay! you may neigh," quoth doctor spraggs, "but run not, i declare "i did not come to chase the fox, "i came to take the--air!" but all in vain he tugg'd the rein, the steed would not be stay'd; the "doctor's stuff" was shaken, and a tune the vials play'd. for in his pockets he had stow'd some physic for the sick; anon, "crack" went the bottles all, and forma a "mixture" quick. his hat and wig flew off, but still the reins he hugg'd and haul'd; and, tho' no cry the huntsmen heard, they saw the doctor--bald! they loudly laugh'd and cheer'd him on, while spraggs, quite out of breath, still gallopp'd on against his will, and came in at the death. to see the doctor riding thus to sportsmen was a treat, and loudly they applauded him-(tho' mounted) on his feat! moral. ye doctors bold, of this proud land of liberty and--fogs, no hunters ride, or you will go like poor spraggs--to the dogs! scene ix. (b) "well, bill, d'ye get any bites over there?" "no, but i'm afeard i shall, soon have one." two youths, by favour of their sponsors, bearing the aristocratic names of william and joseph, started early one morning duly equipped, on piscatorial sport intent. they trudged gaily forward towards a neighbouring river, looking right and left, and around them, as sharp as two crows that have scented afar off the carcase of a defunct nag. at length they arrived at a lofty wall, on the wrong side of which, musically meandered the stream they sought. after a deliberate consultation, the valiant william resolved to scale the impediment, and cast the line. joseph prudently remained on the other side ready to catch the fish--his companion should throw to him! presently an exclamation of "oh! my!" attracted his attention. "have you got a bite?" eagerly demanded joe. "no! by gosh! but i think i shall soon!" cried bill. hereupon the expectant joseph mounted, and seating himself upon the wall, beheld to his horror, master bill keeping a fierce bull-dog at bay with the butt end of his fishing-rod. "go it, bill!" exclaimed joe, "pitch into him and scramble up." the dog ran at him.--joe in his agitation fell from his position, while bill threw his rod at the beast, made a desperate leap, and clutched the top of the wall with his hands. "egad! i've lost my seat," cried joe, rolling upon the grass. "and so have i!" roared bill, scrambling in affright over the wall. and true it was, that he who had not got a bite before, had got a bite--behind! bill anathematised the dog, but the ludicrous bereavement he had sustained made him laugh, in spite of his teeth! joe joined in his merriment. "what a burning shame it is?" said he; "truly there ought to be breaches ready made in these walls, bill, that one might escape, if not repair these damages." "no matter," replied bill, shaking his head, "i know the owner--he's a member of parliament. stop till the next election, that's all." "why, what has that to do with it?" demanded joe. "do with it," said bill emphatically, "why, i'll canvass for the opposite party, to be sure." "and what then?" "then i shall have the pleasure of serving him as his dog has served me. yes! joe, the m. p. will lose his seat to a dead certainty!" the pouter and the dragon. "another pigeon! egad, i'm in luck's way this morning." round and red, through the morning fog the sun's bright face shone, like some jolly toping dog of bacchus' race. when jenkins, with his gun and cur on sport intent, through fields, and meadows, many fur---longs gaily went. he popp'd at birds both great and small, but nothing hit; or if he hit, they wouldn't fall-no, not a bit! "it's wery strange, i do declare; i never see! i go at sky-larks in the hair or on a tree." "it's all the same, they fly away has i let fly-the birds is frightened, i dare say, and vill not die." "vhy, here's a go! i hav'nt ramm'd in any shot; the birds must think i only shamm'd, and none have got." "i'll undeceive 'em quickly now, i bet a crown; and whether fieldfare, tit, or crow, vill bring 'em down." and as he spake a pigeon flew across his way-bang went his piece--and jenkins slew the flutt'ring prey. he bagg'd his game, and onward went, when to his view another rose, by fortune sent to make up two. he fired, and beheld it fall with inward glee, and for a minute 'neath a wall stood gazing he. when from behind, fierce, heavy blows fell on his hat, and knock'd his beaver o'er his nose, and laid him flat. "what for," cried jenkins, "am i mill'd, sir, like this ere?" "you villain, you, why you have kill'd my pouter rare." the sturdy knave who struck him down with frown replied:-"for which i'll make you pay a crown nor be denied." poor jenkins saw it was in vain to bandy words; so paid the cash and vow'd, again he'd not shoot birds-at least of that same feather, lest for pouter shot some dragon fierce should him molest-and fled the spot. the pic-nic. no. i. a merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well provided with baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beautiful and picturesque banks that fringe the river's side near twickenham, eagerly looking out for a spot where they might enjoy their "pic-nic" to perfection. "o! uncle, there's a romantic glade;--do let us land there!" exclaimed a beautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable old gentleman in a broad brimmed beaver and spectacles. "just the thing, i declare," replied he--"the very spot--pull away, my lads--but dear me" continued he, as they neared the intended landing-place, "what have we here? what says the board?" "parties are not, allowed to land and dine here" oh! oh! very well; then we'll only land here, and dine a little further on" "what a repulsive board"--cried the young lady--"i declare now i'm quite vex'd"-"never mind, julia, we won't be bored by any board"--said the jocose old gentleman. "i'm sure, uncle"--said one of the youths--"we don't require any board, for we provide ourselves." "you're quite right, master dickey," said his uncle; "for we only came out for a lark, you know, and no lark requires more than a little turf for its entertainment; pull close to the bank, and let us land." "oh! but suppose," said the timid julia, "the surly owner should pounce upon us, just as we are taking our wine?" "why then, my love," replied he, "we have only to abandon our wine, and, like sober members of the temperance society--take water." pulling the wherry close along side the grassy bank, and fastening it carefully to the stump of an old tree, the whole party landed. "how soft and beautiful is the green-sward here," said the romantic julia, indenting the yielding grass with her kid-covered tiny feet; "does not a gentleman of the name of nimrod sing the pleasure of the turf?" said emma: "i wonder if he ever felt it as we do?" "certainly not," replied master dickey, winking at his uncle; "for the blades of the turf he describes, are neither so fresh nor so green as these; and the 'stakes' he mentions are rather different from those contained in our pigeon-pie." "but i doubt, dickey," said his uncle, "if his pen ever described a better race than the present company. the jenkins's, let me tell you, come of a good stock, and sport some of the best blood in the country." "beautiful branches of a noble tree," exclaimed master dicky, "but, uncle, a hard row has made me rather peckish; let us spread the provender. i think there's an honest hand of pork yonder that is right worthy of a friendly grasp;--only see if, by a single touch of that magical hand, i'm not speedily transformed into a boat." "what sort of a boat?" cried julia. "a cutter, to be sure," replied master dicky, and laughing he ran off with his male companions to bring the provisions ashore. meanwhile the uncle and his niece selected a level spot beneath the umbrageous trees, and prepared for the unpacking of the edibles. the pic-nic. no. ii notwithstanding the proverbial variety of the climate, there is no nation under the sun so fond of pic-nic parties as the english; and yet how seldom are their pleasant dreams of rural repasts in the open air fated to be realized! however snugly they may pack the materials for the feast, the pack generally gets shuffled in the carriage, and consequently their promised pleasure proves anything but "without mixture without measure." the jam-tarts are brought to light, and are found to have got a little jam too much. the bottles are cracked before their time, and the liberal supplies of pale sherry and old port are turned into a--little current. they turn out their jar of ghirkins, and find them mixed, and all their store in a sad pickle. the leg of mutton is the only thing that has stood in the general melee. the plates are all dished, and the dishes only fit for a lunatic asylum, being all literally cracked. even the knives and forks are found to ride rusty on the occasion. the bread is become sop; and they have not even the satisfaction of getting salt to their porridge, for that is dissolved into briny tears. like the provisions, they find themselves uncomfortably hamper'd; for they generally chuse such a very retired spot, that there is nothing to be had for love or money in the neighbourhood, for all the shops are as distant as--ninety-ninth cousins! however delightful the scenery may be, it is counterbalanced by the prospect of starvation. although on the borders of a stream abounding in fish, they have neither hook nor line; and even the young gentlemen who sing fail in a catch for want of the necessary bait. their spirits are naturally damped by their disappointment, and their holiday garments by a summer shower; and though the ducks of the gentlemen take the water as favourably as possible, every white muslin presently assumes the appearance of a drab, and, becoming a little limp and dirty, looks as miserable as a lame beggar! in fine, it is only a donkey or a goose that can reasonably expect to obtain a comfortable feed in a field. it may be very poetical to talk of "nature's table-cloth of emerald verdure;" but depend on it, a damask one, spread over that full-grown vegetable--a mahogany table--is far preferable. the bumpkin. giles was the eldest son and heir of jeremiah styles--a cultivator of the soil--who, losing his first wife, took unto himself, at the mature age of fifty, a second, called by the neighbours, by reason of the narrowness of her economy, and the slenderness of her body, jeremiah's spare-rib. giles was a "'cute" lad, and his appetite soon became, under his step-mother's management, as sharp as his wit; and although he continually complained of getting nothing but fat, when pork chanced to form a portion of her dietary, it was evident to all his acquaintance that he really got lean! his legs, indeed, became so slight, that many of his jocose companions amused themselves with striking at them with straws as he passed through the farmyard of a morning. "whoy, giles!" remarked one of them, "thee calves ha' gone to grass, lad." "thee may say that, jeames," replied giles; "or d'ye see they did'nt find i green enough." "i do think now, giles," said james, "that mother styles do feed thee on nothing, and keeps her cat on the leavings." "noa, she don't," said giles, "for we boath do get what we can catch, and nothing more. whoy, now, what do you think, jeames; last saturday, if the old 'ooman did'nt sarve me out a dish o' biled horse-beans--" "horse-beans?" cried james; "lack-a-daisy me, and what did you do?" "whoy, just what a horse would ha' done, to be sure--" "eat 'em?" "noa--i kicked, and said 'nay,' and so the old 'ooman put herself into a woundy passion wi' i. 'not make a dinner of horsebeans, you dainty dog,' says she; 'i wish you may never have a worse.'--'noa, mother,' says i, 'i hope i never shall.' and she did put herself into such a tantrum, to be sure--so i bolted; whereby, d'ye see, i saved my bacon, and the old 'ooman her beans. but it won't do. jeames, i've a notion i shall go a recruit, and them i'm thinking i shall get into a reg'lar mess, and get shut of a reg'lar row." "dang it, it's too bad!" said the sympathising james; "and when do thee go?" "next march, to be sure," replied giles, with a spirit which was natural to him--indeed, as to any artificial spirit, it was really foreign to his lips. "but thee are such a scare-crow, giles," said james; "thee are thin as a weasel." "my drumsticks," answered he, smiling, "may recommend me to the band--mayhap--for i do think they'll beat anything." "i don't like sogering neither," said james, thoughtfully. "suppose the french make a hole in thee with a bagnet--" "whoy, then, i shall be 'sewed up,' thee know." "that's mighty foine," replied james, shaking his head; "but i'd rather not, thank'ye." "oh! jeames, a mother-in-law's a greater bore than a bagnet, depend on't; and it's my mind, it's better to die in a trench than afore an empty trencher--i'll list" and with this unalterable determination, the half-starved, though still merry giles, quitted his companion; and the following month, in pursuance of the resolve he had made, he enlisted in his majesty's service. fortunately for the youth, he received more billets than bullets, and consequently grew out of knowledge, although he obtained a world of information in his travels; and, at the expiration of the war, returned to his native village covered with laurels, and in the joyment of the half-pay of a corporal, to which rank he had been promoted in consequence of his meritorious conduct in the peninsula. his father was still living, but his step-nother was lying quietly in the church-yard. "i hope, father," said the affectionate giles, "that thee saw her buried in a deep grave, and laid a stone a-top of her?" "i did, my son." "then i am happy," replied giles. sketches by seymour part 2. scene ix. "shoot away, bill! never mind the old woman--she can't get over the wall to us." one day two urchins got a pistol, powder, horn, and shot, and proudly forth they went on sport intent. "oh, tom! if we should shoot a hare," cried one, the elder son, "how father, sure, would stare!" look there! what's that?" "why, as i live, a cat," cried bill, "'tis mother tibbs' tabby; oh! what a lark she loves it like a babby! and ain't a cat's eye, tom, as good a mark as any bull's eyes?" and straight "puss! puss!" he cries, when, lo! as puss approaches, they hear a squall, and see a head and fist above the wall. 'tis tabby's mistress who in great distress loads both the urchins with her loud reproaches, "you little villains! will ye shoot my cat? here, tink! tink! tink! o! lor' a' mercy! i shall surely sink, tink! tink!" tink hears her voice--and hearing that, trots nearer with a pit-a-pat! "now, bill, present and fire, there's a bold 'un, and send the tabby to the old 'un." bang! went the pistol, and in the mire rolled tink without a mew-flop! fell his mistress in a stew! while bill and tom both fled, leaving the accomplish'd tink quite finish'd, for bill had actually diminish'd the feline favorite by a head! leaving his undone mistress to bewail, in deepest woe, and to her gossips to relate her tabby's fate. this was her only consolation--for altho' she could not tell the head--she could the tail! scene x. september 1st,--an only opportunity. "i begin to think i may as well go back." my vig! vat a pelter this is-enough all my hardour to tame; in veather like this there's no sport, it's too much in earnest for game! a ladle, i might as well be, chain'd fast to a hold parish pump, for, by goles! it comes tumbling down, like vinking,--and all of a lump. the birds to their nestes is gone, i can't see no woodcock, nor snipe; my dog he looks dogged and dull, my leggins is flabby as tripe! the moors is all slipp'ry slush, i'm up to the neck in the mire; i don't see no chance of a shot, and i long-how i long for a fire! for my clothes is all soak'd, and they stick as close as a bailiff to me oh! i wish i was out o' this here, and at home with my mother at tea! this is the fust, as i've got permission from uncle to shoot; he hadn't no peace till he give this piece, and the powder to boot! and vat's it all come to at last?-there isn't no chance of a hit, i feel the rain's all down my back, in my mouth though i hav'n't a bit! o! it's werry wezaatious indeed! for i shan't have another day soon; but i'm blow'd, if i don't have a pop-my eye! i've shot dash! vot a spoon! o! here's a partic'lar mess, vot vill mother say to me now? for he vas her lap-dog and pet, oh! i've slaughtered her darling bow-wow! scene xi. "mother says fishes comes from hard roes, so i chuck'd in the roe of a red-herring last week, but i doesn't catch any fish yet." how beautiful is the simplicity of unsophisticated youth! behold with what patience this innocent awaits a bite, trusting with perfect faith in the truth of his affectionate mother's ichthyological knowledge. wishing to behold a live fish dangling at the end of his line, he has, with admirable foresight, drawn up the bucket, that in the ascent the finny prey may not kick it! it must be a hard roe indeed, that is not softened by his attentions; but, alas! he is doomed never to draw up a vulgar herring, or a well-bred fish! folks who are a little deeper read than the boy--(or the herring!)--may smile at his fruitless attempt, but how many are there that act through life upon the same principle, casting their lines and fishing for--compliments, who never obtain even a nibble--for why? their attempts at applause, like his red-herring, are smoked. he does not know that herrings are salt-water fish--and, in fact, that the well-water is not the roes--water! but after all, is not such ignorance bliss?--for he enjoys the anticipated pleasure; and if anticipation be really greater than reality --what an interminable length will that pleasure be to him! ever and anon he draws up his line, like a militia captain for a review;--puts fresh bait on the crooked pin, and lets it slowly down, and peeps in, wondering what the fish can be at!--and is quite as much in the dark as his float. but he may at last, perhaps, discover that he is not so deep as a well--and wisely resolve to let well--alone; two points which may probably be of infinite importance to him through life, and enable him to turn the laugh against those who now mock his ignorance and simplicity. scene xii. ambition. "he was ambitious, and i slew him." what carried captain ross to the north pole? "a ship to be sure!" exclaims some matter-of-fact gentleman. reader! it was ambition! what made barber ross survey the poll, make wigs, and puff away even when powder was exploded? what caused him to seek the applause of the 'nobs' among the cockneys, and struggle to obtain the paradoxical triplicate dictum that he was a werry first-rate cutter!' what made him a practical tory? (for he boasts of turning out the best wigs in the country!) what induces men to turn theatrical managers when a beggarly account of empty boxes nightly proves the drama is at a discount--all benefits visionary, and the price of admission is regarded as a tax, and the performers as ex-actors?----when they get scarcely enough to pay for lights, and yet burn their fingers?--ambition the candidate for the county cringes, and flatters the greasy unwashed ten-pounders, in order to get at the head of the poll--so likewise the bumpkin (in imitation of his superior) rubs his hand in the dirt to enable him to cling fast, and reach the top of the soap'd poll, whereon the tempting prize is displayed. and, what prompts them both to the contest?--ambition! what is the 'primum mobile,' of the adventurous aeronaut, mr. green, one of the most rising men of the day, who aspires even unto the very clouds, and in his elevation looks upon all men of woman born as far beneath him?--ambition! what prompts the soldier who spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a-day to thrust his head into the cannon's mouth, to convince the world that he is desirous of obtaining a good report and that he is fearless of the charge?--ambition! what makes the beardless school-boy leap ditches and over posts at the risk of his neck, and boast that he'll do another's dags'--or the sporting man turn good horses into filthy dog's meat, in riding so many miles in so many minutes?--ambition! what magic influence operates upon the senses of the barrister (a scholar and a gentleman) to exert his winning eloquence and ingenuity in the cause of a client, who, in his conscience, he knows to be both morally and legally unworthy of the luminous defence put forth to prove the trembling culprit more sinned against than sinning?--ambition! what urges the vulgar costermonger to bestride his long-ear'd arabian, and belabor his panting sides with merciless stick and iron-shod heels to impel him to the goal in the mimic race--or the sleek and polish'd courtier to lick the dust of his superiors' feet to obtain a paltry riband or a star?--ambition! scene xiii. better luck next time. the lamentation of joe grishin. "o! molly! molly! ven i popp'd my chops through the arey railings, and seed you smile, i thought you vos mine for ever! i wentur'd all for you --all--. it war'n't no great stake p'r'aps, but it was a tender vun! i offer'd you a heart verbally, and you said 'no!' i writ this ere wollentine, and you returns it vith a big 'no!' "o! molly your 'no's,' is more piercinger and crueller than your heyes. me! to be used so:--me! as refused the vidder at the coal shed! (to be sure she wore a vig and i didn't vant a bald rib!) me!--but it's o' no use talking; von may as vell make love to a lamp-post, and expect to feed von's flame vith lights! but adoo to life; this 'ere rope, fix'd round the 'best end o' the neck' will soon scrap me, and ven i'm as dead as mutton, p'r'aps you may be werry sorry. "it'll be too late then, molly, ven you've led me to the halter, to vish as you'd married me." after this bitter burst of wounded feeling, and, urged by the rejection of his addresses, the love-lorn butcher mounted a joint-stool, and stepping on a fence, twisted the awful rope round the branch of a tree, and then, coiling it about his neck, determined that this day should be a killing day; vainly supposing, in the disordered state of his mind, that the flinty-hearted molly would probably esteem her 'dear' (like venison) the better for being hung! mystically muttering 'adoo!' three times, in the most pathetic tone, he swung off and in an instant came to his latter end--for the rope snapp'd in twain, and he found himself seated on the turf below, when he vainly imagined he was preparing himself for being placed below the turf! "nothin' but disappointments in this world;" exclaimed he, really feeling hurt by the unexpected fall, for he had grazed his calves in the meadow, and was wofully vexed at finding himself a lover 'turned off' and yet 'unhung.' cast down and melancholy, he retraced his steps, and seizing a cleaver (dreadful weapon!) vented his suicidal humour in chopping, with malignant fury, at his own block! scene xiv. don't you be saucy, boys "what are you grinning at, boys?" angrily demanded an old gentleman seated beside a meandering stream, of two schoolboys, who were watching him from behind a high paling at his rear.--"don't you know a little makes fools laugh." "yes, sir! that's quite true, for we were laughing at what you've caught!" "umph! i tell you what, my lads, if i knew your master, i'd pull you up, and have you well dressed." "tell that to the fishes," replied the elder, "when you do get a bite!" "you saucy jackanapes! how dare you speak to me in this manner?" "pray, sir, are you lord of the manor? i'm sure you spoke to us first," said the younger. "more than that," continued his companion. "we are above speaking to you, for you are beneath us!" the old gentleman, rather nettled at the glibness of the lads, stuck a hook vengefully into an inoffensive worm, and threw his line. the boys still retained their post, and after many whispered remarks and tittering, the younger thrust his handkerchief into his mouth to smother a burst of irrepressible laughter, while the other, assuming a modest and penitent air, said: "i beg your pardon, sir." "what?" demanded the old gentleman sharply. "hope you are not offended, sir?" "get along with you," replied the unfortunate angler, irritated at his want of success. "i can tell you something, sir," continued the lad;--"there's no fish to be had where you are. i know the river well. father's very fond o' fish; he always brings home plenty. if you like, sir, i can show you the place." here his companion rolled upon the grass and kicked, perfectly convulsed with laughter, luckily hidden from the view of the now mollified old gentleman. "indeed!" cried the angler: "is it far from this?" "not a quarter of a mile," replied the boy. "that is nothing. i've walked eighteen this morning," said the old gentleman, packing up his apparatus. "i'll go with you directly, and thank you too, for i'm a perfect stranger in these parts." when he had joined them, the laughing fits of the younger had subsided, although he chose to fall in the rear. "now, to shew you how much more profitable it is to respect than to mock at your superiors in years, there's a (let me see)--there's a halfpenny for you to purchase cakes." "thank ye, sir," said he, and turning to his companion with a wink: "here bill, run to cummins' and buy a ha'p'orth of eights--we'll make the most of it--and i'll come to you as soon as i've shown the gentleman the fish." "show me the place, and i'll find the fish," said the anticipating angler. on they trudged. "must we go through the town?" asked his companion, as he marched with his long rod in one hand and his can in the other. "yes, sir, it ain't far;" and he walked on at a quicker pace, while all the crowd of rustics gazed at t e extraordinary appearance of the armed waltonian, for it happened to be market-day. after parading him in this fashion nearly through the town, he presently twitched him by his coat-sleeve. "look there, sir!" cried he, pointing to a well-stocked fishmonger's. "beautiful!--what a quantity!" exclaimed the venerable piscator. "i thought you'd like it, sir--that's the place for fish, sir,--good morning." "eh! what--you young dog?" "that's where father gets all his, i assure you, sir,--good morning," said the youth, and making a mock reverence, bounded off as fast as his legs could carry him. scene xv. "vy, sarah, you're drunk! i am quite ashamed o' you." "vell, vots the odds as long as you're happy!" jack was an itinerant vender of greens, and his spouse was a peripatetic distributor of the finny tribe, (sprats, herrings or mackerel, according to the season,) and both picked up a tolerable livelihood by their respective callings. like the lettuces he sold, jack had a good heart, and his attention was first attracted to the subsequent object of his election by the wit of a passing boy, who asked the damsel how she sold her carrots? jack's eyes were in an instant turned towards one whom he considered a competitor in the trade--when he beheld the physiognomy of his sarah beaming with smiles beneath an abundant crop of sunny hair! "you are a beauty and no mistake," exclaimed the green grocer in admiration. "flummery!" replied the damsel--the deep blush of modesty mantling her cheeks. jack rested his basket on a post beside her stall, and drank deep draughts of love, while sarah's delicate fingers were skilfully employed in undressing a pound of wriggling eels for a customer. "them's rig'lar voppers!" remarked jack. "three to a pound," answered sarah, and so they slipped naturally into discourse upon trade, its prospects and profits, and gradually a hint of partnership was thrown out. sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set of teeth that rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness--a month afterwards they became man and wife. for some years they toiled on together--he, like a caterpillar, getting a living out of cabbages, and she, like an undertaker, out of departed soles! latterly, however, jack discovered that his spouse was rather addicted to 'summut short,' in fact, that she drank like a fish, although the beverage she affected was a leetle stronger than water. their profit (unlike mahomet) permitted them the same baneful indulgence--and kept them both in spirits! their trade, however, fell off for they were often unable to carry their baskets. the last time we beheld them, sarah was sitting in the cooling current of a gutter, with her heels upon the curb (alas! how much did she need a curb!) while jack, having disposed of his basket, had obtained a post in a public situation, was holding forth on the impropriety of her conduct. "how can you let yourself down so?" said he,--"you're drunk--drunk, sarah, drunk!" "on'y a little elevated, jack." "elevated!--floor'd you mean." "vell; vot's the odds as long as you're happy?" jack finding all remonstrance was vain, brought himself up, and reeling forward, went as straight home--as he could, leaving his spouse (like many a deserted wife) soaking her clay, because he refused to support her! scene xvi. "lawk a'-mercy! i'm going wrong! and got to walk all that way back again." a pedestrian may get robbed of his money on the highway, but a cross-road frequently robs him of time and patience; for when haply he considers himself at his journey's end, an impertinent finger-post, offering him the tardy and unpleasant information that he has wandered from his track, makes him turn about and wheel about, like jim crow, in anything but a pleasant humor. it were well if every wayfarer were like the sailor, who when offered a quid from the 'bacoo box of a smoker, said, 'i never chews the short-cut!' and in the same spirit, we strongly advise him, before he takes the short-cut to think of the returns! should the weather prove rainy, the hungry traveller may certainly get a wet on the road, although he starves before he reaches the wished-for inn. as there is likewise no more chance of meeting a good tempered guide on a cross-road, than of finding eggs and bacon, in an edible state, at least on a common--and as he can no more pull in the summer-rains than he can the reins of a runaway stallion; the result is, the inexperienced youth ludicrously represents so many pounds of 'dripping,' and although he may be thirsty, he will have no cause to complain that he is--dry! the best mode for an honest man to go round the country, is to take a straight-forward course, especially when the surcharged clouds do rule the horizon with sloping lines of rain! besides, it is by no means a pleasant thing for a man with a scanty wardrobe, to find his clothes running away at a most unpleasant rate, while he can scarcely drag one clay-encumbered leg after the other. it is a difficult trial, too, of a man's philosophy, after trudging over a long field, to be encountered by the mockery of a 'ha! ha!'--fence! he utters a few bitter expletives, perhaps, but nought avails his railing against such a fence as that! the shower which makes all nature smile, only causes him to laugh--on the wrong side of his mouth, for he regards it as a temperance man does a regular soaker! reader! never attempt a bye-way on a wet day, with a stick and bundle at your back--(if you have a waterproof trunk, you may indeed weather it)--but go a-head on the turnpike road--the way of all mails--leaving long and short commons to the goose and donkey--and the probability is, that you may not only i make a sign before you die, but get a feed--and a shelter. scene xvii. "i'm dem'd if i can ever hit 'em." it is a most extraordinary thing, 'pon my veracity: i go out as regularly as the year, and yet i never bring down an individual bird. i have one of the best mantons going with such a bore! and then i use the best shot--but not being the best shot in the world myself--i suppose is the identical reason why i never hit any thing. i think it must arise from a natural defect in my sight; for when i suppose a covey as near--as my miser of an uncle--they are probably as distant--as my ninety-ninth cousin! such a rum go!--the other day i had a troop of fellows at my heels, laughing like mad; and what do you think?--when i doffed my shooting jacket, i found some wag had stuck the top of a printed placard on my back, with the horrid words, "a young gentleman missing!" it was only last week, a whole flight of sparrows rose at my very feet--i fired--bang!--no go!--but i heard a squall; and elevating my glass, lo! i beheld a cottage within a few yards of my muzzle--the vulgar peasant took the trouble to leap his fence, and inform me i had broken his windows--of course i was compelled to pay him for his panes. to be sure he did rather indicate a disposition to take away my gun--which i certainly should never have relinquished without a struggle--and so i forked out the dibs, in order to keep the piece! i'm quite positive, however, that the vagabond over-charged me, and i kicked, as was quite natural, you know, under such circumstances! i really have an imperfect notion of disposing of my shooting-tackle--but i'm such an unfortunate devil, that i really believe when i post 'em up for sale--my gun will not go off!--dem me! scene xviii. "have you read the leader in this paper, mr. brisket?" "no! i never touch a newspaper; they are all so werry wenal, and ovoid of sentiment!" bob. o! here's a harticle agin the fools, vich our poor british nation so misrules: and don't they show 'em up with all their tricks-by gosh! i think they'd better cut their sticks; they never can surwive such cuts as these is! brisket. it's werry well; but me it never pleases; i never reads the news, and sees no merit in anythink as breathes a party sperrit. bob. ain't you a hinglishman? and yet not feel a hint'rest, brisket, in the common-weal? brisket. the common-weal be--anything for me,-there ain't no sentiment as i can see in all the stuff these sons of--britain prate-they talk too much and do too little for the state. bob. o! brisket, i'm afeard as you're a 'rad?' brisket. no, honour bright! for sin' i was a lad i've stuck thro' thick and thin to peel, or vellinton--for tories is genteeler; but i'm no politician. no! i read these 'tales of love' vich tells of hearts as bleed, and moonlight meetins in the field and grove, and cross-grain'd pa's and wictims of true love; wirgins in white a-leaping out o' winders-vot some old codger cotches, and so hinders-from j'ining her true-love to tie the knot, who broken-hearted dies upon the spot! bob. that's werry fine!--but give me politics-there's summat stirring even in the tricks of them vot's in to keep the t'others out,-how i should like to hear the fellers spout! for some on 'em have sich a lot o' cheek, if they war'n't stopp'd they'd go it for a week. brisket. but they're so wulgar, bob, and call sich names as quite the tag-rag of st. giles' shames the press too is so wenal, that they think all party herrors for the sake o' chink. bob. but ain't there no false lovers in them tales, vot hover wirgin hinnocence perwails? brisket. vy, yes, but in the end the right one's married, and after much to do the point is carried so give me love sincere and tender, and all the rest's not worth a bender. scene xix. an epistle from samuel softly, esq. to his friend, richard gubbins, esq. of tooley street. o! dick! such a misfortin' has you never heard on as come upon your friend. i'll jist give you a breef houtline of the circumstantials as near as my flurry vill let me. t'other mornin' i vips up my gun for to go a-shootin', and packin' up my hammunition, and some sanwidges, i bids adoo to this wile smoky town, vith the intention of gettin' a little hair. vell! on i goes a-visshin' and thinkin' on nothin', and happy as the bumblebees as vos a-numming around me. vell! a'ter an hour or more's valking, not an house nor a brick vos wisible. natur', in all her werdur', vos smilin' like a fat babby in its maternal harms! but, as somebody has it-"man never ain't, but al'ays to be bless'd," and i'm bless'd if that ain't true too, as you shall see presently. vell! i pops at von bird and then at another; but vether the poor creturs vos unaccustom'd to guns, and so vos frighten'd, i don't know, but somehow i couldn't hit 'em no-how. vell! and so i vos jist a-chargin' agin ven a great he-fellow, in a ruff coat and partic'lar large viskers, accostes me (ciwilly i must say, but rayther familler)-"birds shy?" says he. "werry;--ain't hit nothin'," says i. "i'll tell you vot it is, young gentleman," says he, "it's the unevenness o' the ground!" "d've think so?" says i. "sure on it," says he; "i'm a hold sojer! know this 'ere place, and have picked up many a good dinner in it. look at them fe'l'fares yonder," says he, "on'y let me have a slap at 'em for you, and see if i don't finish some on 'em in the twinkling of a pig's visper." in course i felt obleeged by sich a hoffer, and hands him the gun. vell! i vos a-follerin' him quite pleased, ven he visks round, and puttin' the muzzle o' the hinstrument fist agin my vescoat, says he, "now you've lent us your gun, you may as vell lend us your votch. i can't shoot any think for you till i sees vot's o'clock!" here vas a go!--but i see vot vas a clock in a hinstant--and no mistake. so i cotch'd hold on the two butiful chased seals and tugs it out. "that's the time o' day!" says he, a-cockin' his hugly heye at the dial; "and now," says he, "as you seems frightened at the gun, i shall jist put it out o' harm's way." and with that he chucks it splash, into a duck-pond, and hoff marches my hold sojer in a jiffy! i vos putrified! and fell to a-blubberin' like a hinfant. o! dick, vot's to be done? you know i ham, at any rate, yours truly, s. softly. scene xx. the courtship of mr. wiggins. among the very few fashionable foibles to which mr. wiggins was addicted, was the smoking of cigars. attracted by the appearance of a small box marked 'marylands--one penny each,' very much resembling lettuce-leaves with the yellow jaundice, he walked into the chandler's shop where they were displayed. "let us look at them cigars," said he, and then, for the first time, glancing at the smart, good-looking mistress of the emporium, he added, "if you please, ma'am--" "certain'y, sir." a pretty little fist that, howsomever! thought wiggins, as she placed the box before him. "vill you have a light?" "thank'ye, ma'am," said he, ramming the cigar into his mouth, as if he really intended to bolt it. she twisted a slip of waste, and lighting it, presented it to her admiring customer, for it was evident, from the rapt manner in which he scanned her, that he was deeply smitten by her personal appearance. she colored, coughed delicately, as the smoke tickled the tonsils of her throat, and looked full at the youth. such a look! as wiggins asserted. "i'm afeared as the smoke is disagreeable," said he. "oh! dear no, not at all, i assure you; i likes it of all things. i can't abide a pipe no-how, but i've quite a prevalence (predilection?) for siggers." so wiggins puffed and chatted away; and at last, delighted with the sprightly conversation of the lady, seated himself on the small-beer barrel, and so far forgot his economy in the fascination of his entertainer, that he purchased a second. at this favourable juncture, mrs. warner, (for she was a widow acknowledging five-and-twenty) ordered the grinning shop-boy, who was chopping the 'lump,' to take home them 'ere dips to a customer who lived at some distance. wiggins, not aware of the 'ruse,' felt pleased with the absence of one who was certainly 'de trop' in the engrossing 'tete-a-tete.' we will pass over this preliminary conversation; for a whole week the same scene was renewed, and at last mrs. warner and mr. wiggins used to shake hands at parting. "do you hever go out?" said wiggns. "sildom-werry sildom," replied the widow. "vos you never at the vite cundic, or the heagle, or any of them places on a sunday?" "how can i go," replied the widow, sighing, "vithout a purtector?" hereupon the enamoured wiggins said, "how happy he should be," etc., and the widow said, "she was sure for her part," etc. and so the affair was settled. on the following sunday the gallant mr. wiggins figged out, in his best, escorted the delighted and delightful mrs. warner to that place of fashionable resort, the white conduit, and did the thing so handsomely, that the lady was quite charmed. seated in one of the snug arbors of that suburban establishment, she poured out the hot tea, and the swain the most burning vows of attachment. "mr. viggins, do you take sugar?" demanded the fair widow. "yes, my haingel," answered he, emphatically. "i loves all wot's sweet," and then he gave her such a tender squeeze! "done--do--you naughty man!" cried she, tapping him on the knuckles with the plated sugar-tongs, and then cast down her eyes with such a roguish modesty, that he repeated the operation for the sake of that ravishing expression. pointing his knife at a pat of butter, he poetically exclaimed, "my heart is jist like that--and you have made a himpression on it as time will never put out!" "i did'nt think as you were quite so soft neither," said the widow. "i ham," replied the suitor--"and there," continued he, cutting a hot roll, and introducing the pat, "i melts as easily afore the glance of your beautiful heyes!" resolved to carry on the campaign with spirit, he called for two glasses of brandy and water, stiff, and three cigars! and now, becoming sentimental and communicative, he declared, with his hand upon his heart, that "hif there vos a single thing in life as would make him completely happy, it vos a vife!" scene xxi. the courtship of mr. wiggins. mr. wiggins was so intoxicated with love, brandy-and-water and cigars, that he scarcely knew how he reached home. he only remembered that he was very dizzy, and that his charming widow--his guide and friend--had remonstrated with him upon the elevation of his style, and the irregularity of his progression. with his head in his hand, and a strong "dish of tea" without milk, before him, he was composing himself for business the following morning, when an unexpected visitor was announced. "please, sir, there's mrs. warner's 's boy as wants to speak vith you," said his landlady. "show him up," languidly replied our lover, throwing his aching head from his right to his left hand. "vell, jim, vot's the matter!" demanded he--"how's your missus?" "she ain't no missus o' mine no longer," replied jim. "how?" "i tell you vot it is, sir, she promised to give me a shillin'-aweek an' my feed; an' she ain't done vun thing nor t' other; for i'm bless'd if i ain't starved, and ain't seen the color of her money sin' i bin there. father's goin' to summon her." "it's some mistake, sure?" "it's no mistake tho'," persisted jim, "an' i can tell you she ain't got a farden to bless herself vith!--an' she's over head-and-ears in debt too, i can tell you; an' she pays nobody--puttin' 'em all off, vith promises to pay wen she's married." "my heye!" exclaimed the excited wiggins, thrown all a-back by this very agreeable intention upon his funds. "more nor that, sir," continued the revengeful jim, "i know she thinks as she's hooked a preshus flat, an' means to marry you outright jist for vot she can get. an' von't she scatter the dibs?--that's all; she's the extravagantest 'ooman as hever i came anigh to." "but, (dear me! ) she has a good stock--?" "dummies, sir, all dummies." "dummies?" "yes, sir; the sugars on the shelves is all dummies--wooden 'uns, done up in paper! the herrin' tub is on'y got a few at top--the rest's all shavins an' waste.--there's plenty o' salt to be sure--but the werry soap-box is all made up." "and so's my mind!" emphatically exclaimed the deluded wiggins, slapping the breakfast-table with his clenched fist. "jim--jim--you're a honest lad, and there's half-a-crown for you--" "thank'ye for me, sir," said the errand-boy, grinning with delight--" and--and you'll cut the missus, sir!" "for ever!--" "hooray! i said as how i'd have my rewenge!" cried the lad, and pulling the front of his straight hair, as an apology for a bow, he retreated from the room. "what an escape!" soliloquized wiggins-"should n't i ha' bin properly hampered? that's all. no more insinniwating widows for me!--" and so ended the courtship of mr. wiggins. scene xxii. the itinerant musician. a wandering son of apollo, with a shocking bad hat, encircled by a melancholy piece of rusty crape, and arrayed in garments that had once shone with renovated splendour in that mart of second-hand habiliments 'ycleped monmouth-street, was affrighting the echoes of a fashionable street by blowing upon an old clarionet, and doing the 'follow, hark!' of weber the most palpable injustice. the red hand of the greasy cook tapped at the kitchen-window below, and she scolded inaudibly--but he still continued to amuse--himself, as regardless of the cook's scolding as of the area-railing against which he leaned, tuning his discordant lay. his strain indeed appeared endless, and he still persevered in torturing the ambient air with, apparently, as little prospect of blowing himself out as an asthmatic man would possibly have of extinguishing a smoky link with a wheeze--or a hungry cadger without a penny! the master of the mansion was suffering under a touch of the gout, accompanied by a gnawing tooth-ache!--the horrid noise without made his trembling nerves jangle like the loose strings of an untuned guitar. a furious tug at the bell brought down the silken rope and brought up an orbicular footman. "william" "yes, sir." "d--that, etc.! and send him to, etc.!" "yes, sir." and away glided the liveried rotundity.-appearing at the street-door, the musician took his instrument from his lips, and, approaching the steps, touched his sorry beaver with the side of his left hand. "there's three-pence for you," said the menial, "and master wishes you'd move on." "threepence, indeed!" mumbled the man. "i never moves on under sixpence: d'ye think i doesn't know the walley o' peace and quietness?" "fellow!" cried the irate footman, with a pompous air--"master desires as you'll go on." "werry well"--replied the other, touching his hat, while the domestic waddled back, and closed the door, pluming himself upon having settled the musician; but he had no sooner vanished, than the strain was taken up again more uproariously than ever. out he rushed again in a twinkling-"fellow! i say--man! vot do you mean?" "vy, now didn't you tell me to go on?" "i mean't go off." "then vy don't you speak plain hinglish," said the clarionist; "but, i say, lug out t'other browns, or i shall say vot the flute said ven his master said as how he'd play a tune on him." "vot vos that?" "vy, he'd be blow'd if he would!" "you're a owdacious fellow." "tip!" was the laconic answer, accompanied by an expressive twiddling of the fingers. "vell, there then," answered the footman, reluctantly giving him the price of his silence. "thank'ye," said the musician, "and in time to come, old fellow, never do nothin' by halves--'cept it's a calve's head!" scene xxiii. oh! lor, here's a norrid thing.' the confessions of a sportsman. "vell, for three year, as sure as the septembers comes, i takes the field, but somehow or another i never takes nothin' else! my gun's a good 'un and no mistake!--percussions and the best dartford, and all that too. my haim ain't amiss neither; so there's a fault somewhere, that's certain. the first time as i hentered on the inwigorating and manly sport, i valks my werry legs off, and sees nothin' but crows and that 'ere sort o' small game. "i vos so aggrawated, that at last i lets fly at 'em in werry spite, jist as they vos a sendin' of their bills into an orse for a dinner. "bang! goes the piece;--caw! caw! goes the birds; and i dessay i did for some on 'em, but i don't know, for somehow i vos in sich a preshus hurry to bag my game, that i jumps clean over vun bank, and by goles! plump into a ditch on t'other side, up to my werry neck! "the mud stuck to me like vax; and findin' it all over vith me, and no chance o' breaking a cover o' this sort, i dawdled about 'till dusk, and vos werry glad to crawl home and jump into bed. i vos so 'put out' that i stayed at home the rest o' that season. "the second year come, and my hardor vos agin inflamed. 'cotch me a-shootin' at crows,' says i.--vell, avay i goes a-vhistling to myself, ven presently i see a solentary bird on the wing; 'a pariwidge, by jingo!' says i--i cocks--presents, and hits it! hooray! down it tumbles, and afore i could load and prime agin, a whole lot o' 'em comes out from among the trees. 'here's luck' says i; and jist shouldered my piece, ven i gets sich a vop behind as sent me at full length. "'vot's that for?' says i. "'vot are you a shootin' at my pigeons for?' says a great hulking, farmering-looking fellow. "a hexplanation follered; and in course i paid the damage, vich stood me a matter of a suv'rin, for he said he'd take his davy as how it vos a waluable tumbler!--i never sees a 'go' o' rum and vater but vot i thinks on it. this vos a sickener. "the third year i vos hout agin as fresh as a daisy, ven i made a haim at a sparrer, or a lark, or summit o' that kind--hit it, in course, and vos on the p'int o' going for'ard, ven lo! on turning my wision atop o' the bank afore me, i seed a norrid thing!--a serpent, or a rattle-snake, or somethink a-curling itself up and a hissing like fun! "i trembled like a haspen-leaf, and-didn't i bolt as fast as my werry legs would carry me, that's all? "since that time i may say, with the chap in the stage-play, that my parent has kept myself, his only son, at home, for i see no sport in sich rigs, and perfer a little peace at home to the best gun in the field!"-provided by the internet archive ye book of copperheads by anonymous [illustration: 0007] [illustration: 0009] ye book of copperheads "_ continue this united league."--richard the third, iii. 1_. `|there once was a copperhead snake tried to bite uncle sam by mistake; ```but the seven league boot on old uncle sam's foot ````soon crushed this pestiferous snake. [illustration: 0010] |a soldier came back from the war, with many an honorable scar; ```but the copperheads cried, "served you right if you'd died ````in this curst _abolitionist_ war!" [illustration: 0011] |the old tory dragon is dead, but she left us some eggs in her stead; ``two were smashed in the yolk, but the third hatched and broke, ```and out came a vile copperhead. [illustration: 0012] |there was once a young giant asleep, and round him two serpents did creep; ```but he stopped their vile breath, and squeezed them to death, ````this giant aroused from his sleep. [illustration: 0013] |there once was a copperhead vile, who attempted to damage a ```so he tried it in truth, but soon broke every tooth ````on that rusty and crusty old file. [illustration: 0014] "_nor doth this wood lack worlds."--midsummer night's dream, ii. 2._ |there was an old snake in new york said for peace all the people should work; ``"but if war _must_ come, let us fight here _at home!!_" ```quoth sanguiloquent ben of new york. [illustration: 0015] _"one of those who worship dirty gods."--cymbeline, iii. 8._ |there once was a chap named vallandigham, whom the copperheads chose for commanding 'em; ```but a trip to the south soon silenced his mouth, ````and the world as a _tory_ is branding him. [illustration: 0016] |with war democrats seymour's for war; with peace cowards for peace he'll hurrah; ```let him get in the way of the mower some day, ````and he'll find there's no quibbling with war. [illustration: 0017] |the copperhead lotterie hath a curious policie; ``for a man of low rank can draw naught save a blank, ````unless an accomplice he be. [illustration: 0018] |there once was a twistified reed who took for his pattern snake-weed; ```till the copperheads all, great, middling, and small ````seemed _straight_ by the side of this reed. [illustration: 0019] |there's a character very well known, who bubbles for ages has blown; ```but the best he has made since at _bubbling_ he played, ````from a copperhead pipe have been thrown. [illustration: 0020] ````_"and what stock he springs of!!"--coriolan, ii. 3._ |copper stocks are uncertain to buy, though this copperhead's stock's very high; ```but we still might improve this stock of his love, ````by adding the _right_ sort of tie. [illustration: 0021] |there was an old war horse, a clerical, who thought our republic chimerical; ```"for the union," he said, "he never had prayed," ````this mordacious old war horse cholerical. [illustration: 0022] ```_" there is no goodness in the worm,"--antony and cleopatra, v. 2._ |the abominable copperhead worms! with their wriggles, and twists, and their squirms! ```but the gardener, they say, will soon find out a way ````to kill the vile copperhead worms. [illustration: 0023] ```_"there are many complaints, davy, about that."--king henry iv., v. 1._ |there was a stern statesman astute, who so often went in to _recruit_, ```that a rattlesnake fat revolved in his hat, ````while a copperhead squirmed in his boot. [illustration: 0024] ```_"so much dishonor my fair stars."--king richard 111., iv. 1._ |the traitor our common cents mars, and on liberty plainly he wars, ```taking freedom away from the union, i say, ````when he cuts out her head from the stars. [illustration: 0025] _"and so the lion vanished."--midsummer night's dream, v. 1._ |while it did us great harm, abolition was the height of the lion's ambition; ```now with copperhead _tale_ he stings himself pale. ````and furaciously scorns abolition. [illustration: 0026] ```_"will this wood take fire?"--merry wives of windsor, v. 5._ |union, a fagot we take; but 'twould be a tremendous mistake, ```to use rotten old wood which never was good, ````and then bind it up with a snake. [illustration: 0027] |there once was a patriot whose rigor reached such a remarkable figure, ```that he'd rather go down in the water and drown ````than be saved by the help of a nigger. [illustration: 0028] |there once were some rascals near reading thought fighting was easy as wedding; ```but being well kicked, and most terribly licked, ````they mournfully mizzled from reading. [illustration: 0029] _"o wicked wall!"--midsummer night's dream, v. 1._ |there once was an old _party_-wall, quite _cracked_ and just ready to fall; ```the copperheads came and completed its shame ````by sticking their bills on this wall. [illustration: 0030] |there once was a bottle of porter, which the copperheads thought was all water; ```but when the cork popped, the copperheads dropped, ````and were stunned by the _vim_ of the porter! [illustration: 0031] |there once was a snake who said "hey! there's an eagle i'll take for my prey!" ```but the bird with his bill did the copperhead kill, ````and bore him in triumph away. [illustration: 0032] ```_"exit shall be strangling a snake."--love's labor's lost, v. 1._ |the copperhead traitors all, our army "base hirelings" call ```but some fine summer day the "boys," just for play, ````will settle the copperheads all. amen! gotham-mites. |i like such brooks," said falstaff once; ``had he meant _ours_ he'd been a dunce; `the devil, whom all things evil please, ``could never stand such bruoks as these.= `in the tyrol on mountain high ``"the devil's marble" you may spy; `and if in the world you long remain, ``you'll probably meet the same again.= `och, johnny, my gun--let the truth be aid, ``what the divil made _ye_ turn copperhid? `sure it was hivvy what ye bore, ``wid the brass in your face yees had before.= `there's a song how old nick took a journey, ``with a corporation attorney; `but there is one _fouler_, whom even the old prowler ``would fear as a friend on a journey.= 1. `"the man who made that order," said ``judge b. in court, "was a _meat-head_." `oh what a head that head would be, ``just _meted_ judge, to match with thee!= 2. `"just roll that nigger out of court!" ``the judge exclaimed with solemn port; `"i tell you very truly now, ``nigs _at the bar_ i won't allow!"= `at a copperhead meeting the crier ``paused an instant to hear his gun fire; `the cannon was loaded, and when it exploded, ``said he--"list to the voice of our sire!"= ``there was old party named m------, ``who went from bad doctrines to worse. `if at law he should see his name prefaced by _re,_ ``it will show what he _should_ feel; this m------.= ```there was a small cozening shyster; ``said he, "every case is an _eyester;_ `give the parties the shells if you can, and nought else, ``unless the court tips you a hi-ster."= ``there's a man at the _bar_ who, we know, ``is in politics terribly _low_; `for he keeps in the clubs the secessional cubs, ``who in _propria persona_ can't go.= ``there's a very bad-minis-trator, ``a_ très petite pomme de tater_, `who tears feelings to rags, presenting of flags; ``this oily old adminis-_traitor_.= ``there's a wide-awake copperhead cratur', ``who is eli by name and by natur'; `displaying for one neither fashion _nor ton_, ``this un-national nativist traitor.= checker-boarders and keystoners |there was an old person, j. b., ``an old public func-tion-arie; [agreed, `when they swore, "we'll secede!" he just smiled, "i'm ``"you've a sure friend, you know, in j. b.= ``there was a smart lawyer named w-----``who from union men made quite a fortun'; `but his wealth he despised, with secesh fraternized, ``this apo-state-olical w------.= ``there was a twistortulous heed, ``who hoped that secesh might succeed; `for he said, "it's my natur' to act like a traitor, ``since it runs in the joints of a heed."= ``there once was a copperhead diddle, ``who played to the heed second fiddle; `when they said, "it is small!" it replied, not at all, `says he, "i ain't dead--as a live copperhead ``i'm a squirmulous vermiform wriggler."= ``there was an old servant called peter, ``so moody in humor and feature `because the good people from the church with a steeple ``expelled this old saturnine peter.= ``there was a sharp lawyer, one p-, ``whose thoughts never got through his still lips; `and all he would say was "ah!" "h'm!" "oh!" and "ay ``this pauciloquent person named p-.= ``there was a neat sarpent--a coiler-``true son of the ancient beguiler; `who told such a whopper, he burst out his copper, ``and frightfully fractured his biler.= `it's a full-blooded copperhead diddle!"= `there was an ex-governing wiggler, `a political huckster and higgler; ``quoth "aristocracy" ``to fourth ward "vulgarity," `"you are dregs, i am froth; and our interests both ``are opposed to this working, d'ye see!"= modern heathen-ians ``there was an ex-editor, l------, ``who rowed in the _courier_ punt, `but to twist around more, he jumped out on the shore, ``that contortious poetical l------.= ``oh g-----t-----c-----was one ``who thought himself quite a great gun; `so treason he shouted, "constitution" he spouted, ``but boston grew hot for such "union men"--so ``he herds in new york with fernando & co.= ``to the cause of his country adverse, ``is the man whom all honest men curse. `do you ask what's his name? oh, ne'er believe fame, ``if it be not ex-president pierce.= ``in eighteen hundred and fifty-six, ``a poet, disgusted with pierce's tricks, ``said that he down to the dust should go, ``to grovel there in infamy low. ``and in eighteen hundred and sixty-three, ``the prophecy came to pass, i see, ``since in the dust and on the ground, ``as a copperhead pierce goes squirming round".= ``what a pity that joshua d. ``a good insolvency lawyer should be, ``yet cannot, in politics, as we see, ``keep his own good name from bankruptcie!= ``john c. passes, now and then, ``for one of boston's league-al men. ``mistake me not--he doth intrigue ``with the liquor--not the union--league!= ``gamblers, wood-ites, thieves, and asses, ``scrapings of the dangerous classes, ``pettifoggers malign, but weak, ``who dare not fight and cannot speak; ``_trash_ which the war-tide rolling high ``has cast ashore in scorn to dry; ``"aristocrats" who fear to wage ``brave battle in a stirring age, ``as did their glorious sires before, ``who won thereby the fame they wore; ``oh g. s. h--------, tell us true. ``is this fit company for you?= shakspeare on the copperheads. ```"what would you have, you curs, `that like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, `the other makes you proud. he that trusts to you, `where he should find you lions, finds you hares; `where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no, `than is the coal of fire upon the ice, `or hailstone in the sun. your virtue is, `to make him worthy whose offence subdues him, `and curse that justice did it. who deserves greatness `deserves your hate; and your affections are `a sick man's appetite, who desires most that `which would increase his evil. he that depends `upon your favors swims with fins of lead, `and hews down oaks with rushes."--_coriolanus, i. 1._ "those devoted copperheads." `"our sympathies are all confined at home; yet it is just `possible we may help those devoted copperheads in the only `way we know how--also, that they, on their side, are now `about ripe to aid us in the only way we could accept their `aid. if our troops should this summer appear within their `borders anywhere between cairo and philadelphia, they would `be hailed as friends by a population pretty well cured now of `_pluribus unum_. their cry would be, not union, but deli`verance. _wait then, and watch, and keep your lights burning, `ye knights of the golden circle!"--richmond enquirer_, 18th `may, 1863. buzz a buzz or the bees done into english from the german of wm. busch. author of "my bee book" london griffith & farran chester phillipson & golder buzz a buzz or the bees done freely into english by the author [illustration] of my bee book from the german of wilhelm busch. london: griffith & farran. chester: phillipson & golder. preface. explanatory. i must say a few words in explanation of the somewhat novel form which my new "bee-book" has taken, and which, doubtless, will be a surprise to the many bee-friends who are waiting with exemplary patience for the second edition of my original "bee-book," soon about to appear after an interval of thirty years from the publication of the first edition. i happened last year to be at the cologne station, waiting for the train, and employed my spare time in looking over the book stall for something to read on my way to aix-la-chapelle. the stall was covered with books about the late war. i had returned from a visit to the battle fields of 1870, and was sick of the subject. i wanted something of a more peaceful nature, and i was turning away, without making a purchase, when a book met my eye entitled _schnurrdiburr_. what that might mean i knew not, but the second title, _oder die bienen_, was intelligible, and had attraction enough for me. i opened it, and saw it was profusely illustrated with very comical cuts. i paid my thaler and carried away my prize. the cuts are reproduced in the book which my readers have in their hands. the verses were written up to the pictures rather than translated from the german text; for alas! my german is very limited; enough for travelling purposes, but hardly enough to enable me to read a bee-book either serious or comical. ridentem dicere verum quid vetat? there is much truth lying hid under these comical stories; still more in the illustrations; and the notes which i have appended may be found useful even by serious bee-masters. i promise my readers that they shall have the second edition of "my bee book" as perfect as i can make it, and with as little delay as possible. i trust it may be much nearer perfection than the first edition, published under great difficulties, could be, and i hope it may have as many purchasers as this its forerunner. w. c. c. _frodsham_, _cheshire_, _september_, 1872. prelude. [illustration] hail muse etc.! bring me peggy, my antient steed, now somewhat leggy; not him who on parnassus green erst fed, and drank of hippocrene; but such, as to supply the trade, at nuremburg by scores are made.- i mount him, and will now indite a bee-book for my own delight, i'll sing of johnny dull: his pig, made by his bees exceeding big; and of his daughter fair christine, of her queer lover dicky dean, and of his nephew rogue eugene- of honey-robbers i will tell, and bears, and bull-frogs, ghosts as well- all which my readers may discover who con this true tale ten times over- or make ten other bee friends buy it; for three and six i can supply it. fytte i. bee life. [illustration] all hail! thou lovely month of may, with parti-coloured flowers gay! and hail to you, my darling bees; much wealth you gain on days like these. from morn to eve a humming sound about the bee-house circles round. [illustration] the sentinels, in armour bright, keep watch and ward throughout the night; and drive away, constrained by oath, the mice, and toads, and death's head moth. [illustration] at early dawn 'tis quite a treat to see them work, they are so neat; some clean their house with brooms and mops, and others empty out the slops. [illustration] the architects, by rule and line, their future cells with skill define; the ever toiling workers these- meanwhile the queen, she takes her ease; sole mother of the winged nation, her only work is propagation. [illustration] the egg she lays; the nurses hatch that egg, and in the cradle watch. the babe to swaddle, and prepare the pap-boat, is their constant care. [illustration] all day, in regal state, the queen encircled by her court is seen; their backs they never rudely turn: good manners they by instinct learn. [illustration] and when night comes she goes to bed, and on the pillow lays her head; whilst by her side her faithful drone profoundly snores, for they are one. [illustration] they send for letters ere they rise; for just at ten they ope their eyes. [illustration] the post office is in a flower, which opens at a certain hour, miss crocus keeps it, fresh and fair; the tresses of her flowing hair they glitter like the purest gold; and by her saffron cakes are sold. [illustration] near is the pothouse where both grog is served to bumble-bees, and prog; and when the bumble-bees get groggy, their intellect, like men's, is foggy. [illustration] on rose leaves they their letters write, here's one they either wrote or might. "great queen, we hope you'll swarm to day"; "for 'is a lovely first of may." [illustration] the messenger this letter takes, and eke a store of saffron cakes. [illustration] the drones they neither work, nor can do aught but sleep on a divan; and smoke their pipes through all the day; chibouks these love, and those a clay. such is their life--who would not be a happy little worker bee; a queen's too high for me,--a drone, such laziness i let alone. fytte ii. the pig. [illustration] now johnny dull had once a pig,- 't was far from fat, its bones were big. to scratch his hide with all his might was this poor piggie's sole delight. [illustration] once on a time it so fell out he in the garden roamed about: he chanced to have an itching mood; the bee house quite convenient stood- [illustration] his hide he scratched; the bees rushed out, and stung him well from tail to snout- ugh! ugh! ugh! ugh! poor piggie cried, feeling these daggers pierce his hide. [illustration] john dull, who heard the awful clatter, said, "bless the pig! why what's the matter?" [illustration] he came,--he saw--, his porker, that was erst all lean, was now all fat. [illustration] it chanced a pig-jobber that way was passing by; he stopped to say "how much friend dull for that fat pig?" "just ten pounds ten, for he is big"- "done"--"done again"--the bargain's struck- john dull he found himself in luck, and blest his bees, and in their praise he chanted forth these jocund lays. [illustration] [illustration] fly forth, dear bees, 'tis morn, fly forth to south, to north, to west, to east; and cull from every fragrant flower a honied feast. * * * * * fly home, dear bees, 'tis eve, fly home! from north, from south, from east, from west; store in your cells your luscious spoil, and sweetly rest. * * * * * [illustration] the air is clear the day is warm, john dull sits watching for a swarm; what's this? he thought; while i've been talking my bees are all prepared for walking, staves in their hands, and on his back each carries his provision pack. [illustration] he strains his sight into the hole; "they'll swarm to day--upon my soul." [illustration] his brain swims round, his eyes feel heavy, he sees no more the increasing levee. [illustration] his nose, as down and down it drops, his half used pipe of 'bacca stops.- [illustration] buzz, buzz!--hum, hum! a joyful sound, echoes the teeming hive around. all gather at the trumpet's clang to hear their noble queen's harangue.- "up children up, to swarm prepare" "the honey thief sits stinking there." "and we who love the scent of roses" "have stale tobacco in our noses." "we toil, we sweat from early may" "to lay up for a rainy day." "our cells we fill, and at the fall" "he sulphers us, and takes it all." "so let us one and all deride" "this honey thief, this bee-i-cide." "up children, up! to swarm prepare" "whilst master dull sits snoring there." "a devil he, upon my troth:" "buzz! buzz! hum! hum! the swarm is off!" [illustration] fytte iii. the rivals. "nothing like soup," is still the cry in each well ordered family; so on christine the duty fell to cull the herbs they love so well; and every morn, the charming maid within her father's garden strayed, parsley to pluck, wherewith to make the soup, which they at noon should take. [illustration] her father's garden marched, i ween, with that of mr. richard dean; a school-master by trade was he, and she esteemed him--maidenly. but by degrees, within her soul a softer, tenderer passion stole; love--full of joy and full of sorrow, sunshine to day, and storm to-morrow,- love may forget a parsley bed, and dream of golden flowers instead. [illustration] and so the maiden stooped to cull a crocus, and an auricula. these flowers, together-bound, she placed just half a foot above her waist. [illustration] then sat her down beneath the shade, and thought about him--happy maid. now mr. dull a nephew had, a most audacious, awkward lad; some fifteen summers he had seen and still was very, very green. [illustration] christine he eyed, and with desire he felt his little soul on fire. with cat like pace behind the wall he crept (he was not near as tall.) [illustration] leapt up, and from the affrighted miss ravished the much desired kiss. [illustration] "stop little monster", and a whack descended on his upturned back- (the place i cannot more define within the limits of a line) --side, i should add, but wherefore tell what every school-boy knows so well. dick dean so roundly plied the stick that rogue eugene skedaddled quick. [illustration] then richard raised the fainting maid, and many a tender thing he said; her chin he chucked, his arm he placed about her little taper waist; [illustration] her flowers admired, and begged them too: christine, she knew not what to do; [illustration] but blushed assent; the flowers he took, and thanked her with an ardent look. [illustration] "sweets are repaid by sweets i wiss", he said, and he too had a kiss. "adieu and--au revoir--" to night [illustration] pray let us meet, my heart's delight, behind your father's bee-house, when the church-clock shall have sounded ten. eugene, still smarting with the cane, his heart on fire, with jealous pain, [illustration] o'erheard the place of assignation, and crept out from his hidden station; rushed to the bee-house, found john dull asleep, and snoring like a bull. "wake, uncle, wake" in startling tone he shouted, "for your swarm is gone." fytte iv. the swarm. [illustration] john dull, awakened from his slumber, observed his stock's diminished number; his apple trees he searched, and found the swarm some ten feet from the ground; [illustration] got his bee dress, his hive, and ladder; no bee master was ever gladder. [illustration] mounted, and without any trip got all the bees within the skip- [illustration] "well done i have them;" as he spoke the ladder's top-most rung it broke, [illustration] crack! crack! and, as i hope to thrive, the same befel the other five; [illustration] the bees rush forth and quit the hive! [illustration] john on his knees, and free from harm marked well the disappearing swarm. [illustration] two boys were making pies of dirt close by, and playing with a squirt; they squirted at the bees to stop 'em, squirted in vain; they could not drop 'em. [illustration] old sally met them with her mop, and sammy trumpeted, stop! stop! [illustration] and dick and bob and bill they screeched, but not a sound these flyers reached- [illustration] a sweep upon the chimney top showered soot upon them, and cried "stop!" [illustration] when they had cleared the churches roof, sam dutton put his gun to proof; [illustration] john dull came panting up behind and could no other stopper find; [illustration] he stamped and swore and scratched his head, "a pretty dance i have been led," "confound the bees; i've got a warming" some way i'll find to stop their swarming; a hive i'll build as big as two, sold by mancubrian p.tt.gr.w. fytte v. the patent monster hive. adverse events reveal the real man, so horace wrote, refute this truth who can. [illustration] and john dull to its full completion wrought the inspiration of his sudden thought. "room for the swarm!" this is great nature's law, and so he built two monstrous hives of straw.- [illustration] "good morning neighbour" from across the fence cried out dick dean. "may i without offence" "ask what your making." "why these blessed bees," "i find them creatures plaguey hard to please." "plaguey! dont say so--they're a real pleasure," "i love to watch them when i have the leisure;" "besides each scholar knows in antient days," "how maro sung his little darlings praise." "and when the roman legions brought alarm" "to every inmate of his mantuan farm,--" "smiling he stood, amidst his winged host;" "the mailed warriors fled and left him at his post." "all this i know--beekeeping would be charming," "if there was never such a thing as swarming." "but grubs my friend! your bees are sure to breed," "swarms come from grubs, as corn crops come from seed." "grubs you must have; and when your swarming's done," "two hives you'll find, where erst you had but one." "bother the grubs; i know a better way," "my patent monster hives, they are the things to pay." [illustration] fytte vi. the bear. [illustration] eugene would often take his lunch, of dry black bread a monstrous hunch, into a wood--ere he got through it he wished he'd some nice honey to it- when all at once it chanced a bee he saw creep up a hollow tree; another came, then two, and three. "hurrah! there's honey here for me," eugene exclaimed, "no more i'll eat this nasty bread, but have a treat."- [illustration] "honey for ever!" up he clomb to the trees fork--the honey comb he saw below him in the beech hollowed by age, beyond his reach- [illustration] his hold he missed and sad to tell down midst the honey combs he fell; [illustration] into the cakes his boots went crush, as though it were mere muddy slush. [illustration] honey he found but every school-boy knows he cannot eat his sweetmeats with his clothes. [illustration] another bee hunter that way one mister bruin chanced to stray; a dancing bear by trade was he, but fond of honey--certainly! [illustration] "if i smell right here's honey comb"; he said, or thought; then upwards clomb. [illustration] eugene below, half dead with fear, saw the bears hinder's drawing near, [illustration] with both hands gripped him tight and had a [illustration] mount upwards by this living ladder; sure never little lad was gladder. [illustration] meanwhile john dull, a spying round, the self same honey tree had found; [illustration] up to the fork himself he reared when bruin's ugly mug appeared. augh, back he fell through utter fright; close to his tail did braun alight; and by braun's heels braun's parasite. [illustration] braun seized john dull with either claw, just as himself was seized before; [illustration] john pulling out his hunting knife cut off his tail to save his life; [illustration] sam dutton here did interveen, "to shoot that grizzly bear i mean"! but braun was nowhere to be seen. [illustration] early next morn came sawyers two, and sawed the honey tree right through; [illustration] there stuck the boots of young eugene; [illustration] he drew them out, and licked them clean; such blacking ne'er before was seen! while john dull, from the luscious store, filled twenty honey pots or more. fytte vii. the frog. [illustration] "the appetite with eating grows"- this truth my little story shows. for many a day the rogue eugene to john dull's bee-hives creeps unseen; smokes them,--puff!--puff!--then boldly takes the much desired honey cakes. [illustration] when lo! one day the angry swarm out on him rushed--the day was warm; they covered him from top to toe, behind, before, above, below, they buzzed, they crawled, they stung him,--oh! [illustration] eugene half stifled, for his nose and mouth were covered like his clothes, rushed to the nearest water-pit, and took a header into it; [illustration] rose through the bee-besprinkled foam, and ran, all dripping, to his home. [illustration] felt quite unwell! the doctor came and to his illness gave a name. [illustration] "by aid of careful auscultation," "and thinking on his late natation," "i think, i think that i deskiver," "a frog within this dear boy's liver." [illustration] "i'll get him up." a bee he took, impaled it on a fishing-hook; [illustration] played it within his open jaws, a bite! and up the frog he draws; [illustration] frog to the open window took, and cut the line close by the hook; [illustration] frog to the pool, rejoicing, hopped; and plump into the water dropped. then chanted his batrachian lay quite in th' artistophanic way; "brekekekek, coax, coax, coax, coax, brekekekek." fytte viii. the ghost. [illustration] forbidden fruit is sweet they say; and so its gathered every day; and should this fruit be sweet before, forbid it, and 'tis ten times more. eugene oft coveted the pot of honey that john dull had got placed on the shelf above his head, for safety, when he went to bed; [illustration] john slept, john snored; then ope'd his eyes and stared about him with surprise. [illustration] "what's this i see come crawling on?" "sure, 'tis a strange phenomenon." [illustration] a winged beast, with tail, and claws on his four feet, which end in paws. [illustration] with stealthy pace on on it crawled, john turned upon his face, and bawled. [illustration] john's hair as this strange beast drew near his night cap raised for very fear. [illustration] on its hind legs itself it reared, as it its squalling master neared, [illustration] nearer still nearer--till he got [illustration] the much desired honey pot. [illustration] turns tail and runs; whilst johnnie sits bolt up, divested of his wits. [illustration] a pearly drop on every hair hangs pendant, not from heat, but fear. [illustration] eugene his garret sought, and there ate honey, like his friend the bear, the pot he emptied mighty soon, using his paws instead of spoon. fytte ix. the honey thief. [illustration] the flowers which christine culled at morn at eve were withered, and forlorn. [illustration] these withered flowers dick sadly took, and placed them in his music book; then put the book upon the table, and pressed, the best that he was able. [illustration] the pressed flowers took a wondrous shape, which seemed the human form to ape; and in these specimens, christine is imaged, and her dicky dean. [illustration] ten sounded from the old church tower- before the last stroke of the hour, close by the bee-house richard dean, his last new coat on, might be seen; christine, arrayed in all her charms, was there, and rushed into his arms. [illustration] "hist! what's that sound?" alack! alack! a thief, with crotchet at his back- a honey thief--ill may he thrive. [illustration] each crept into a monster hive. [illustration] the thief peered round; "this will i take"- "this big one will my fortune make." [illustration] then hoisted dicky, hive and all, upon his back so lean, so tall- [illustration] "halt," shouted dicky, and the head of his strange monture bonneted; [illustration] held him down tight, and with a stick passed 'twixt his legs, secured him quick. [illustration] and christine, what must she have felt while bruin round about her smelt? out of the hive she softly stole; [illustration] in crept the bear and through the hole at the hive's top he poked his nose; christine her ready courage shows, [illustration] she through his nose ring passed a stick, which from the ground she happed to pick. [illustration] poor bruin rolled upon his back, and grunted out alas! alack! [illustration] so after all these strange alarms, again dick rushed into her arms. [illustration] john dull by chance came strolling by, his hives upset first met his eye; he saw they both were tenanted- amazed he looked, then scratched his head; [illustration] peered all around, espied christine and her own true love dicky dean; behind the bee house they were placed, and dicky's arm was round her waist. [illustration] "come here" he cried "you little chit," "i understand it not a bit"- upon their knees they both fell down, and the whole mystery made known. [illustration] the father heard them all declare, then gave his blessing to the pair. "bless you my christine: dick i bless" "with stores of wedded happiness." [illustration] then came the dramatis personae; the tall, the short, the fat, the bony. [illustration] sam dutton thought to get a shot, now bruin could no longer trot. but sally interposed her mop, and to his shooting put a stop. [illustration] the night watch came, and 'twixt them bore the skewer'd thief to the prison door. [illustration] and came the bear leader as well, and took poor bruin to his cell. [illustration] sam with his trumpet blew a rally, and hip, hurrah! cried ancient sally. [illustration] long live both empty hives and full, long live dick dean and johnny dull. fytte x. the queen bee's fete. [illustration] the night is warm, and many a nose upturned, is snoring in repose; whilst every tree and every flower rejoices in that witching hour. and o'er john dull his garden beds, the moon her gentle influence sheds. [illustration] 'tis may the first, the queen bee's fãªte! and she, in all her regal state, beneath her fairy hall of roses with her beloved drone reposes. [illustration] she nods a sign; the bombardier awakes the echoes far and near. [illustration] whilst tinkle, tinkle, clang! clang! bang! the court musicians' strain out-rang. the fly he blows the shrill trompette, the gnat the softer clarionette; the grasshopper, a fiddler he- the drummer is the bumble bee.- [illustration] the willow-beetle, such a swell, with young sabina waltzes well; [illustration] liz too and kitty have their swains, who one and all are taking pains to make themselves agreeable, each to his own peculiar belle. [illustration] the stag-beetle, that beau precise, regales his partner with an ice. [illustration] the moon, upon the apple tree, surveys, well pleased, the revelry. [illustration] two cockchafers soon quit the dance; they cannot bear the piercing glance of their fair partners--see them set within a private cabinet. they smoke, they sing, they drink until their little polished paunch they fill. [illustration] their homes they cannot find--alas! they tumble backward on the grass. "to whit" "to whoo" policeman owl, the wisest of all feathered fowl, hoots out; "why here's a precious go," "drunk and incapable, ho! ho!" [illustration] "so come along, i know you well;"- he said, and drove them to his cell. were they discharged? no, never more, that cell it was an abattoir. the owl supped on the elder brother, and for his breakfast ate the other. so you, who think a dance divine, mind--never take excess of wine. [illustration] the evening star went flicker--flick- over the bedroom candlestick; and round its silver radiance shed to light the sleepy moon to bed. * * * * * [illustration] i've done--i doff my riding gear, and order pegasus--his beer. notes on buzz-a-buzz, apiarian, classical, poetical, and nondescript. prelude. hail muse! &c.--an invocation to the muses, both terse and expressive. possibly not quite original, as i have a dim recollection that a certain obscure poet called byron, whose works are now well nigh forgotten, made use of it. peggy.--a name dear to the writer, as that of the first pony which he ever had of his very own--the gift of a kind godfather--of a different sex indeed from pegasus. there is, therefore, some hopes that the breed may have been preserved, but, as far as my experience goes, i may regretfully say, quando ullam inveniam parem. i have, alas, grown stout; and it requires a strong cob to carry twenty stone, and go lively under it as well. such a mount fetches a long price, which does not suit a short purse; and such godfathers, alas! _abierunt ad plures_; their successors give no such gifts to their godchildren. parnassus green.--not at all the same sort of place as paddington green. the latter is now familiarly haunted by our comic song writers, those most dolorous of all funny men. parnassus green stands, from the necessity of rhyme, for green parnassus. hippocrene.--the first horse drinking fountain, and produced, moreover, by a stamp of peggy's hoof. this would be a good subject for a drinking fountain of the present day. i make a present of the idea to any young sculptor who has a commission from one of our merchant princes, and is hard up for a subject. the most approved receipt for developing a poetic temperament was to sleep on parnassus, and drink of hippocrene in the morn. persius has it, "non fonte labra prolui caballino, nec in bicipiti somniasse parnasso memini, ut repente sic poeta prodirem." no more have i; and perhaps some of my readers may say that i should have done better had i waited for a sleep on parnassus, and a drink of hippocrene before i began to write. all i can say is, i hope to take one next year, if i visit greece. fytte i.--_page 1-7._--the fun of this first fytte will be "real nuts" to every bee-master. the whole economy of a hive is viewed from a human stand-point. the sentinels watching with their own stings in their hands as lances; the early labours of the chamber and house maids; the architects setting out the day's work; the swaddling clothes and pap boat for the grub royal; the state of the queen; the idleness of the drones: all is well told, at least in the wood cuts. "pig in the garden strayed around."--_page 8._--a very improper place for pig to take his constitutional walk. the wicket gate which leads to your hives should be always properly secured, or results very different from the fattening of a pig may be produced. for what is possible, though not very probable, see one of the early chapters of maryatt's mr. midshipman easy. "was erst all lean, was now all fat."--_page 10._--the alteration of the animal tissue in consequence of a sting is very wonderful; it is certainly not fat which is deposited. so that this method of getting bacon pigs ready for market, though it would save corn, would not be satisfactory to the bacon curer when he puts his flitches in salt, still less to the cook, when frying a rasher. "fly forth, dear bee, 'tis morn, fly forth."--_page 11._--i shall be obliged to any one of my many friends, skilled in musical composition, if they will set this original bee song. the prelude and refrain offer a fine opportunity for a buzz-a-buzz effect. on receipt of a satisfactory production i will forward to the composer a bound copy of _buzz-a-buzz_, with the translator's autograph. inestimable reward! john dull sits waiting for a swarm.--_page 11._--as i have done for many an hour, and lost the swarm after all. john dull drops asleep whilst watching. i have often ceased watching just as the swarm was about to rise. the bees choose their own time, which is not always that which the bee master would for them. but the whole subject of swarming, and how to regulate it, or prevent it, will be fully treated of in the forthcoming second edition of "my bee book." "this honey thief, this bee-i-cide."--_page 14._--this latter word is the invention of the learned doctor cumming, the times' bee-master. see a most stunning article on his bee-book in the saturday review, the second or third number for december, 1864. the proverbial thickness of a scotchman's skin can alone have preserved him from dying from the effects of this stinging article. "docte commenas utriusque linquoe" say i. "cull a crocus and an auricula."--_page 17._--the last word was indeed a difficult one to hitch into rhyme. it has, however, been, i think, successfully overcome. i might have added another line, and made a triplet, "flowers which her richard loved particular," but i had compassion on the ears of my readers. "the place i cannot more define, "within the limits of a line."--_page 19._ i well remember, when an eton boy, walking in the playing fields with a late revered and beloved prelate, then a fellow of eton, whose memory is dear to every etonian who knew him, as that of a kind friend and finished scholar,--such as alas! seem extinct in these degenerate days. he was living in a picturesque old house, "the warf," now destroyed, that his two sons, then at eton, might still have the benefit of home associations. his daughters, and their french governess, accompanied us in this well-remembered stroll. mademoiselle was very curious as to how the eton boys were punished. she wanted all the details, and asked if they were whipped on their backs. the question made us all look foolish, but dr. l. with a twinkle of his eyes, which marked his appreciation of the _situation_, answered, "a little lower down, mademoiselle, a little lower down." "fetched his bee dress, his hive, his ladder."--_page 23._--a veritable guy mr. dull looks in his defensive armour! a simpler and equally efficient dress may be made of a black net bag, large enough to be drawn over a straw or felt hat, with a brim sufficiently wide to keep the net away from the prominent organ, the nose, and long enough to be buttoned into the bee-master's coat. a couple of elastic bands round the wrists will prevent the bees crawling up his sleeves, the same round the ancles will secure the most timorous bee master. "a lady's dress i cannot pretend to regulate." see "my bee book," where many instances of the effect of stings are given. when swarming, bees are particularly gentle, and never sting, except when some are crushed. a true bee-master will despise such defensive armour, but trust rather to his gentleness and knowledge of the habits of his bees for his immunity from stings. should he be stung, nevertheless, in spite of all precautions, let him instantly extract the sting, and apply a drop of honey to the place. this will immediately allay the smarting pain, and the swelling, except in certain places, as the eye or lip, be trifling. _eau de luce_ as it is commonly called, that is, strong ammonia, is another excellent remedy; a small bottle should be kept in every apiary in the box of "needments." but above all, let the bee-master eschew gloves, specially when delicate operations are to be performed. a cat might as soon expect to catch mice in mittens, as a bee-master to capture a queen with hands encased in, and fingers stiffened by, thick woollen gloves, as recommended by some. "some way i'll find to stop this swarming."--_page 29._--it is not to be done by monster hives, or ventilation, or by adding supers. if the bees will swarm, they will. they are a stiff-necked generation, and know their own business, at least they think so, better than we men can teach it them. our objects, however, are slightly different. their's to propagate and preserve their species: ours to secure the maximum amount of honey in any given locality. i have known a swarm sent forth from a _ruche a l'air libre_, a french hive, which i worked in new zealand. the combs and bees were entirely exposed to the external air, which was not then particularly warm. but a swarm was ready to go, so off they went. for full particulars of this remarkable instance see "my bee book," second edition. to regulate, not to prevent swarming should be the bee-master's aim. more of this hereafter. i here give, by the kindness of mr. alfred neighbour, illustrations of the sort of hive by which alone this can be accomplished, viz., the bar frame hive. originally of german invention, it, with various modifications, has been widely adopted both on the continent and in america; and every bee-master in england who claims the title of scientific, would do well to supply himself at once. each honey comb, it will be seen, is built in a separate bar frame like a picture. they are ranged to the number of 9, 11, or 13, in a strong box, and each is both moveable and interchangeable with those of any other hive. swarming may be checked in any particular stock by cutting out the queen cells. the great production of drones can be regulated by limiting the amount of drone cell in any hive, and altogether prevented by removing it all from a stock hive, about the purity of whose strain there is the least doubt; whilst again, it may be encouraged in a pure blooded stock hive, by inserting at the proper time an additional bar containing drone comb. any man handy with tools may make them for himself at the cost of the materials, and they will last a lifetime. i can supply my friends with as many as they require at half a guinea, for which they pay double or treble in the shops; whilst those who think nothing can be good except it is high-priced, and do not like the trouble of making their own hives, may go to any cost they like. the preceding woodcut represents a hive on this principle, but with certain modifications, which may be obtained of mr. neighbour, 149, regent-street, and will suit the class of bee keepers last mentioned. mr. neighbour has, i may mention, made arrangements for supplying ligurian queens of the greatest purity. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] "a dancing bear by trade was he, "and honey loved exceedingly."--_page 35._ this "bar" story is an addition to, and improvement on, one which i recollect to have read in some american publication. a man who had dropped into a hollow tree is hoisted up by the same "living ladder." he, if i remember rightly, grasped the hinders of the bear with one hand, and with the other prodded him with his bowie knife, so as to change his descending into an ascending motion. honey cakes.--the french use the word _gateaux_. i wish the name "honey cakes" were universally adopted by bee-masters. it would supply a meaning which the word "comb" does not at all. a honey comb may be as dry as dust, whilst the "honey cake" places before the eyes of the imagination a full comb well sealed over, with here and there a drop of clear honey oozing out, as a sample of the store within. perfectly sealed honey cakes may be kept without deterioration through the winter, by wrapping them up separately in clean writing paper, and then packing them away in a tin, each cake being placed as it stood in the hive. if bar-frame hives are used, the cakes should not be cut away from the frame till wanted; they should be stored away in some close box, fitted to receive them. "and cover him from top to toe."--_page 43._--bee literature contains many instances of persons having been completely enveloped in a swarm of bees, who by remaining perfectly still did not receive a single sting. old thorley, in his [greek: melissologia] tells the story of his maid-servant being so covered in a manner very quaint and charming. perfect quiet under these circumstances is essential to, and will secure, safety; whilst any thing which can enrage 20,000 soldiers, armed with a poisoned dart, may lead to fatal results. since i wrote the above, a story has appeared in the newspapers, and is, i fear a true one, as names, dates and places are given, of a sting having been fatal to a lady accustomed to the management of bees. any person who has this idiosyncrasy had better give bees a wide berth. "i deskiver."--_page 44._--there was evidently a taste of milesian blood in this learned doctor. 'tis fortunate that it was so, for "discover" and "liver" would not rhyme. "brekekekex, coax, coax, "coax, coax, brekekekex."--_page 46._ is the refrain of the well-known chorus in the frogs of aristophanes. any one with an accurate ear, who has been so happy as to assist at a chorus of bull frogs in full song in the sweet spring tide, sacred to love and melody, must have felt how accurately the great comic poet noted down their song. i do not believe that in the two thousand years which have elapsed since that time there has been a single note altered in their love ditty. i have never been in greece, and so cannot testify to the musical powers of the frogs of boeotia; but i have had that pleasure both in spain and in the neighbourhood of constantinople: in both instances under very favourable circumstances, which i will relate. in june, 1855, during the crimean war, i was at constantinople, the guest of lord napier, then chief secretary to the british embassy in that city. he was residing at that lovely place, therapia, the summer retreat of our ambassador and his suite. i had pitched my little tent in a grass meadow, close to lord napier's snug house. his hospitality by day was unbounded, but straitened as he was for room by night, he was not sorry to entertain a guest who delighted in camping out, and brought with him the means of doing so. not fifty yards from my tent was a dark stagnant pool, overshadowed by trees, and every night and all night long the bull frogs, from their reedy habitations, sang "brekekekex, coax, coax," whilst above the water, and in and out of the dark shadows of the trees, the fire flies flickered about in their ever varying gambols. it was as though taglioni, resplendent with jewels, had been dancing her very best to the strains of a scotch bag-pipe. again, i was in the noble town of seville at easter, 1867, twelve years later, during which time i had been hard at work in england, and "no holiday had seen," so by that time i needed one. not a hundred yards from the glorious cathedral, behind the alcazar, the old palace of the moors, is a large orange garden, and in the midst of it a square tank, of moorish work, used for irrigation. the garden was tenanted by a widow woman who owned a dozen or so magnificent stall-fed milch cows, and thither i resorted early every morning, after visiting the cathedral, for the sake of a glass of new milk, and a lesson in spanish from her two little daughters aged respectively nine and ten, incarnacion (the last c pronounced th) and salud. commend me to two chattering little girls, when their shyness has once worn off, as the best teachers of a new language. one glorious morning i was sitting on the edge of the aforesaid tank, inhaling the delicious perfume of the orange blossoms, when a frog struck up his "brekekekex, coax coax" from the still water, and at the same time the air was resonant with the sweet song of the nightingale. i pride myself on knowing somewhat of the languages of birds, beasts, and (fishes? no! they are mutum pecus, but let us say) bull frogs so i listened attentively, and found the nightingale and bull frog, were each of them serenading his own wife, arboreal, and aquatic. each wife thought her husband the very best singer in the world: that not a note of his song could be altered for the better; and both nightingale and bull frog thought the other singer a bore. i noted down the whole of this musical contest at the time. it is quite in the way of one of virgil's amoeboean bucolics. not corydon and thyrsis, but batrachos and philomela were contending for the prize. it is too long to insert here, but may be had of my publishers, under the title of "bull frog and nightingale;" an apologue, price 6d. but the sum of the whole matter is this: i do not believe, "pace darwinii nostri dicatur," that natural selection, and conjugal preference has had the effect of altering or improving the nightingale's song in the last two thousand years. it could not be louder or better, and i trust may last my time unchanged, whilst on the evidence of aristophanes' chorus we know that bull frogs, then, as now, sang "brekekekex, coax, coax," _and that song only_. the honey pot.--_page 47-52._--this fytte, comical as it is in itself, is particularly valuable as instructing the untravelled britisher in the peculiarities of a german bedstead; far too short for all who have not by some procrustoean process been reduced to the normal height of five feet, no inches! the upper sheet sown to the coverlid, with no possibility of tucking it in, and liable to fall off the sleeper altogether. no blankets, but a mountain of feather-bed piled above, which either stifles you in summer, or rolling off, leaves you to freeze in the winter. yet in such a bed as this what wonderful positions mr. dull managed to assume under the influence of fear. imitate him, my gentle reader, if you are still young and active, and then you will appreciate his contortions. "a honey thief, ill may he thrive."--_page 55._--every bee keeper will echo this wish. i know no sight more piteous than an apiary the night after it has been plundered. light hives upset, and lying, with the combs all broken, on the ground. the bees crawling about in wild confusion around their violated homes, lately so neat, and now the very picture of desolation. in vain they attempt to repair the damage which the spoiler's hand has created; whilst the stands where the heavy stocks stood the evening before, are one and all tenantless. many devices to protect hives from robbers have been tried. wooden boxes are tightly screwed to the bottom board from below, whilst the bottom board itself is strongly bolted to the stand. this will indeed protect a hive from anything but a powerful crow bar. but the remedy is worse than the disease, as it prevents your ever changing or cleaning the bottom board, and is, in many ways, inconvenient. the best preservative i can think of is to have a savage dog, savage to all but his master, with a strong chain, not fastened to his kennel, but ending in an iron ring, which can slide along a small pole placed horizontally about a foot from the ground in front of the hives. i have seen this mode of defence adopted in germany for the protection of the valuable leech ponds, which are there fattened for the market. it answers for the defence of leeches, and if so, why not for bees. "many a nose, upturned, was snoring in repose."--_page 66._--my readers will doubtless remember, as i confess to have done when penning the above line, the opening of southey's thalaba, and the inimitable parody thereof in the rejected addresses. when a thing has been done excellently well, it is folly to again attempt the same with a certainty of failure before our eyes. we verse makers do not steal from each other; we are all one brotherhood, and _corbies nae pike out corbies e'en_. but we convey--_conveys_ the word, says glorious will. "and between them bore, "the felon to the prison door."--_page 66._ this mode of removing a captive would have suited that extinct species of our protective force, that of the dogberry and verges order, and may be recommended to our new police as more merciful, and less grating to the feelings of a prisoner than the present mode of "running a man in;" especially as they generally get hold of the wrong person. a police sedan would enable the innocent captive to conceal his features from the tail of little boys and idle quidnuncs, specially if he were carried like our honey thief head downwards. the last chapter is like the first, written in the style of the butterfly's ball and the grasshopper's feast, and is, it seems to me, no less admirable. if i pride myself on anything in this translation it is on the concluding lines: "the evening star went flicker--flick- over the bedroom candlestick; and round its silver radiance shed to light the sleepy moon to bed." "i've done i doff my riding gear, "and order pegasus--his beer."--_page 72._ baierische bier is infinitely superior to any hippocrene. but no drink in the world can hold a candle to genuine "wienische bier," as it comes cool drawn from the cellar. the romans knew not beer, and so had to put up with "falernian," or even the "vile coecubum." i say put up, for the wine that now goes by the name of falernian is detestable. i suppose, however, that two thousand years ago it was far more carefully made, as i trust it may again be in "italia unita." the romans, knew not beer, but the greeks had tasted it, though brewed by the hands of barbarians. in xenophon's retreat of the ten thousand we are told that they came upon a race of people from whom they got [greek: hek krithã´n methu.] let us then leave pegasus to enjoy his drink of barley wine, though like baron munchausen's famous steed, he hath not the wherewithal to stow away his beer. my dear old peggy, alluded to in the first of this series of notes, and therefore the fittest subject for a wind up, was, when hard worked, very fond of a quart of good ale, with half a quartern loaf broken into it; she would drink up the ale at a draught, then quickly munch the sop, and start with fresh vigour for another ten-mile trot. corrigenda. the reader is asked to excuse the following errors, excusable--as for the sake of having its original wood blocks, the work, with the exception of the notes, was printed abroad. page 6, for _'ts_ read _t'is_. page 35 should be- "but every sweet-toothed school-boy knows, he can't eat honey with his toes." page 36, for _hinder's_ read _hinders_. page 70, for _ap le tree_ read _apple tree_. phillipson and golder, printers, chester. sketches by seymour part 1. ebook editor's introduction: "sketches by seymour" was published in various versions about 1836. my copy has no date and was published by thomas fry, london. some of the plates note only seymour's name, many are inscribed "engravings by h. wallis from sketches by seymour." there are 90 plates including the title pages. i believe this book was originally a compilation of five smaller volumes, though the separate volumes are not apparent. from the mixed chapter titles the reader may suspect, as i do, that the printer thoroughly mixed up the order of the chapters. the complete set in this digital edition is split into five smaller volumes so that each volume is of a more manageable size than this 7mb complete version. the value of this collection to me is in the art of the engravings. the text seems generally mundane, is full of conundrums and puns that were popular in the early 1800's, and is mercifully short. no author is given credit for the text though the section titled, "the autobiography of andrew mullins" may give us at least his pen-name. dw contents: everyday scenes. scene i. sleeping fisherman. scene ii. a lark--early in the morning. scene iii. the rapid march of intellect! scene iv. sally, i told my missus vot you said. scene v. how does it fit behind? scene vi. catching-a cold. scene vii. this is vot you calls rowing, is it? scene viii. in for it, or trying the middle. a day's sport. chap. i. the invitation, outfit, and the sallying forth chap. ii. the death of a little pig chap. iii. the sportsmen trespass on an enclosure chap. iv. shooting a bird, and putting shot into a calf! chap. v. a publican taking orders. chap. vi. the reckoning. chap. vii. a sudden explosion other scenes. scene ix. shoot away, bill! never mind the old woman scene x. i begin to think i may as well go back. scene xi. mother says fishes comes from hard roes scene xii. ambition. scene xiii. better luck next time. scene xiv. don't you be saucy, boys. scene xv. vy, sarah, you're drunk! scene xvi. lawk a'-mercy! i'm going wrong! scene xvii. i'm dem'd if i can ever hit 'em. scene xviii. have you read the leader in this paper scene xix. an epistle from samuel softly, esq. scene xx. the courtship of mr. wiggins. scene xxi. the courtship of mr. wiggins.(continued) scene xxii. the itinerant musician. scene xxiii. the confessions of a sportsman. miscellaneous. plate i. the jolly anglers. plate ii. the bill-sticker. plate iii. old foozle. plate iv. the "crack-shots." no. i. plate v. the "crack-shots." no. ii. plate vi. the "crack-shots." no. iii. plate vii. doctor spraggs. plate viii. [scene ix.(b)] well, bill, d'ye get any bites? plate ix. the pouter and the dragon. plate x. the pic-nic. no. i. plate xi. the pic-nic. no. ii. plate xii. the bumpkin. frontpiece ii. shooting title page ii. volume ii. plate xiii. [watty williams and bull] plate xiv. delicacy! plate xv. now, jem, let's shew these gals how we can row plate xvi. steaming it to margate. plate xvii. peter simple's foreign adventure. no. i. plate xviii. peter simple's foreign adventure. no. ii. plate xix. dobbs's "duck."--a legend of horselydown. plate xx. strawberries and cream. plate xxi. a day's pleasure. no. i.--the journey out. plate xxii. a day's pleasure. no. ii.--the journey home. plate xxiii. [hammering] beside a meandering stream plate xxiv. practice. plate xxv. precept. plate xxvi. example. plate xxvii. a musical festival. plate xxviii. the eating house. plate xxix. [scene x.(b)] this is a werry lonely spot, sir plate xxx. gone! plate xxxi. the practical joker. no. i. plate xxxii. the practical joker. no. ii. plate xxxiii. fishing for whiting at margate. andrew mullins.--an autobiography. chap. i. introductory chap. ii. let the neighbors smell ve has something chap. iii. i wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly chap. iv. a situation. chap. v. the stalking horse. chap. vi. a commission. chap. vii. the cricket match chap. viii. the hunter. chap. ix. a row to blackwall. chap. x. the pic-nic. chap. xi. the journey home. chap. xii. monsieur dubois. chap. xiii. my talent called into active service. chap. xiv. a dilemma. chap. xv. an old acquaintance. chap. xvi. the loss of a friend. chap. xvii. promotion. a rigmarole. part i. "de omnibus rebus." part ii. "acti labores sunt jucundi" part iii. "oderunt hilarem tristes." an intercepted letter from dick slammer to his friend sam flyke. plate i. dye think ve shall be in time for the hunt? plate ii. vat a rum chap to go over the 'edge that vay! everyday scenes. scene i. "walked twenty miles over night: up before peep o' day again got a capital place; fell fast asleep; tide rose up to my knees; my hat was changed, my pockets picked, and a fish ran away with my hook; dreamt of being on a polar expedition and having my toes frozen." o! izaak walton!--izaak walton!--you have truly got me into a precious line, and i certainly deserve the rod for having, like a gudgeon, so greedily devoured the delusive bait, which you, so temptingly, threw out to catch the eye of my piscatorial inclination! i have read of right angles and obtuse angles, and, verily, begin to believe that there are also right anglers and obtuse anglers--and that i am really one of the latter class. but never more will i plant myself, like a weeping willow, upon the sedgy bank of stream or river. no!--on no account will i draw upon these banks again, with the melancholy prospect of no effects! the most 'capital place' will never tempt me to 'fish' again! my best hat is gone: not the 'way of all beavers'--into the water--but to cover the cranium of the owner of this wretched 'tile;' and in vain shall i seek it; for 'this' and 'that' are now certainly as far as the 'poles' asunder. my pockets, too, are picked! yes--some clever 'artist' has drawn me while asleep! my boots are filled with water, and my soles and heels are anything but lively or delighted. never more will i impale ye, gentles! on the word of a gentleman!--henceforth, o! hooks! i will be as dead to your attractions as if i were 'off the hooks!' and, in opposition to the maxim of solomon, i will 'spare the rod.' instead of a basket of fish, lo! here's a pretty kettle of fish for the entertainment of my expectant friends--and sha'n't i be baited? as the hook said to the anger: and won't the club get up a ballad on the occasion, and i, who have caught nothing, shall probably be made the subject of a 'catch!' slush! slush!--squash! squash! o! for a clean pair of stockings!--but, alack, what a tantalizing situation i am in!--there are osiers enough in the vicinity, but no hose to be had for love or money! scene ii. a lark--early in the morning. two youths--and two guns appeared at early dawn in the suburbs. the youths were loaded with shooting paraphernalia and provisions, and their guns with the best dartford gunpowder--they were also well primed for sport--and as polished as their gunbarrels, and both could boast a good 'stock' of impudence. "surely i heard the notes of a bird," cried one, looking up and down the street; "there it is again, by jingo!" "it's a lark, i declare," asserted his brother sportsman. "lark or canary, it will be a lark if we can bring it down," replied his companion. "yonder it is, in that ere cage agin the wall." "what a shame!" exclaimed the philanthropic youth,--"to imprison a warbler of the woodlands in a cage, is the very height of cruelty--liberty is the birthright of every briton, and british bird! i would rather be shot than be confined all my life in such a narrow prison. what a mockery too is that piece of green turf, no bigger than a slop-basin. how it must aggravate the feelings of one accustomed to range the meadows." "miserable! i was once in a cage myself," said his chum. "and what did they take you for?" "take me for?--for a 'lark.'" "pretty dickey!" "yes, i assure you, it was all 'dickey' with me." "and did you sing?" "didn't i? yes, i' faith i sang pretty small the next morning when they fined me, and let me out. an idea strikes me suppose you climb up that post, and let out this poor bird, ey?" "excellent." "and as you let him off, i'll let off my gun, and we'll see whether i can't 'bang' him in the race." no sooner said than done: the post was quickly climbed--the door of the cage was thrown open, and the poor bird in an attempt at 'death or liberty,' met with the former. bang went the piece, and as soon as the curling smoke was dissipated, they sought for their prize, but in vain; the piece was discharged so close to the lark, that it was blown to atoms, and the feathers strewed the pavement. "bolt!" cried the freedom-giving youth, "or we shall have to pay for the lark." "very likely," replied the other, who had just picked up a few feathers, and a portion of the dissipated 'lark,'--"for look, if here ain't the--bill, never trust me." scene iii. "you shall have the paper directly, sir, but really the debates are so very interesting." "oh! pray don't hurry, sir, it's only the scientific notices i care about." what a thrill of pleasure pervades the philanthropic breast on beholding the rapid march of intellect! the lamp-lighter, but an insignificant 'link' in the vast chain of society, has now a chance of shining at the mechanics', and may probably be the means of illuminating a whole parish. literature has become the favourite pursuit of all classes, and the postman is probably the only man who leaves letters for the vulgar pursuit of lucre! even the vanity of servant-maids has undergone a change--they now study 'cocker' and neglect their 'figures.' but the dustman may be said, 'par excellence,' to bear--the bell! in the retired nook of an obscure coffee-shop may frequently be observed a pair of these interesting individuals sipping their mocha, newspaper in hand, as fixed upon a column--as the statue of napoleon in the place vendome, and watching the progress of the parliamentary bills, with as much interest as the farmer does the crows in his corn-field! they talk of 'peel,' and 'hume,' and 'stanley,' and bandy about their names as familiarly as if they were their particular acquaintances. "what a dust the irish member kicked up in the house last night," remarks one. "his speech was a heap o' rubbish," replied the other. "and i've no doubt was all contracted for! for my part i was once a reformer--but rads and whigs is so low, that i've turned conservative." "and so am i, for my sal says as how it's so genteel!" "them other chaps after all on'y wants to throw dust in our eyes! but it's no go, they're no better than a parcel o' thimble riggers just making the pea come under what thimble they like,--and it's 'there it is,' and 'there it ain't,'--just as they please--making black white, and white black, just as suits 'em--but the liberty of the press--" "what's the liberty of the press?" "why calling people what thinks different from 'em all sorts o' names--arn't that a liberty?" "ay, to be sure!--but it's time to cut--so down with the dust--and let's bolt!" scene iv. "oh! sally, i told my missus vot you said your missus said about her."--"oh! and so did i, betty; i told my missus vot you said yourn said of her, and ve had sich a row!" sally. oh! betty, ve had sich a row!--there vas never nothink like it;-i'm quite a martyr. to missus's pranks; for, 'twixt you and me, she's a bit of a tartar. i told her vord for vord everythink as you said, and i thought the poor voman vould ha' gone clean out of her head! betty. talk o' your missus! she's nothink to mine,--i on'y hope they von't meet, or i'm conwinced they vill go to pulling of caps in the street: sich kicking and skrieking there vas, as you never seed, and she vos so historical, it made my wery heart bleed. sally. dear me! vell, its partic'lar strange people gives themselves sich airs, and troubles themselves so much 'bout other people's affairs; for my part, i can't guess, if i died this werry minute, vot's the use o' this fuss--i can't see no reason in it. betty. missus says as how she's too orrystocratic to mind wulgar people's tattle, and looks upon some people as little better nor cattle. sally. and my missus says no vonder, as yourn can sport sich a dress, for ven some people's husbands is vite-vashed, their purses ain't less; this i will say, thof she puts herself in wiolent rages, she's not at all stingy in respect of her sarvant's wages. betty. ah! you've got the luck of it--for my missus is as mean as she's proud; on'y eight pound a-year, and no tea and sugar allowed. and then there's seven children to do for--two is down with the measles, and t'others, poor things! is half starved, and as thin as weazles; and then missus sells all the kitchen stuff!--(you don't know my trials!) and takes all the money i get at the rag-shop for the vials! sally. vell! i could'nt stand that!--if i was you, i'd soon give her warning. betty. she's saved me the trouble, by giving me notice this morning. but--hush! i hear master bawling out for his shaving water-jist tell your missus from me, mine's everythink as she thought her! scene v. "how does it fit behind? o! beautful; i've done wonders--we'll never trouble the tailors again, i promise them." it is the proud boast of some men that they have 'got a wrinkle.' how elated then ought this individual to be who has got so many! and yet, judging from the fretful expression of his physiognomy, one would suppose that he is by no means in 'fit' of good humour. his industrious rib, however, appears quite delighted with her handiwork, and in no humour to find the least fault with the loose habits of her husband. he certainly looks angry, as a man naturally will when his 'collar' is up. she, on the other hand, preserves her equanimity in spite of his unexpected frowns, knowing from experience that those who sow do not always reap; and she has reason to be gratified, for every beholder will agree in her firm opinion, that even that inimitable ninth of ninths--stulz, never made such a coat! in point of economy, we must allow some objections may be made to the extravagant waist, while the cuffs she has bestowed on him may probably be a fair return (with interest) of buffets formerly received. the tail (in two parts) is really as amusing as any 'tale' that ever emanated from a female hand. there is a moral melancholy about it that is inexpressibly interesting, like two lovers intended for each other, and that some untoward circumstance has separated; they are 'parted,' and yet are still 'attached,' and it is evident that one seems 'too long' for the other. the 'goose' generally finishes the labours of the tailor. now, some carping critics may be wicked enough to insinuate that this garb too was finished by a goose! the worst fate i can wish to such malignant scoffers is a complete dressing from this worthy dame; and if she does not make the wisest of them look ridiculous, then, and not till then, will i abjure my faith in her art of cutting! and proud ought that man to be of such a wife; for never was mortal 'suited' so before! scene vi. "catching--a cold." what a type of true philosophy and courage is this waltonian! cool and unmoved he receives the sharp blows of the blustering wind--as if he were playing dummy to an experienced pugilist. although he would undoubtedly prefer the blast with the chill off, he is so warm an enthusiast, in the pursuit of his sport, that he looks with contempt upon the rude and vulgar sport of the elements. he really angles for love--and love alone--and limbs and body are literally transformed to a series of angles! bent and sharp as his own hook, he watches his smooth float in the rough, but finds, alas! that it dances to no tune. time and bait are both lost in the vain attempt: patiently he rebaits, until he finds the rebait brings his box of gentles to a discount; and then, in no gentle humour, with a baitless hook, and abated ardor, he winds up his line and his day's amusement(?)--and departs, with the determination of trying fortune (who has tried him) on some, future and more propitious day. probably, on the next occasion, he may be gratified with the sight of, at least, one gudgeon, should the surface of the river prove glassy smooth and mirror-like. (we are sure his self-love will not be offended at the reflection!) and even now he may, with truth, aver, that although he caught nothing, he, at least, took the best perch in the undulating stream! scene vii. "help! help! oh! you murderous little villin? this is vot you calls rowing, is it?--but if ever i gets safe on land again, i'll make you repent it, you rascal. i'll row you--that i will." "mister vaterman, vot's your fare for taking me across?" "across, young 'ooman? vy, you looks so good-tempered, i'll pull you over for sixpence?" "are them seats clean?" "o! ker-vite:--i've just swabb'd 'em down." "and werry comfortable that'll be! vy, it'll vet my best silk?" "vatered silks is all the go. vel! vell! if you don't like; it, there's my jacket. there, sit down a-top of it, and let me put my arm round you." "fellow!" "the arm of my jacket i mean; there's no harm in that, you know." "is it quite safe? how the wind blows!" "lord! how timorsome you be! vy, the vind never did nothin' else since i know'd it" "o! o! how it tumbles! dearee me!" "sit still! for ve are just now in the current, and if so be you go over here, it'll play old gooseberry with you, i tell you." "is it werry deep?" "deep as a lawyer." "o! i really feel all over"-"and, by gog, you'll be all over presently--don't lay your hand on my scull" "you villin, i never so much as touched your scull. you put me up." "i must put you down. i tell you what it is, young 'ooman, if you vant to go on, you must sit still; if you keep moving, you'll stay where you are--that's all! there, by gosh! we're in for it." at this point of the interesting dialogue, the young 'ooman gave a sudden lurch to larboard, and turned the boat completely over. the boatman, blowing like a porpoise, soon strode across the upturned bark, and turning round, beheld the drenched "fare" clinging to the stern. "o! you partic'lar fool!" exclaimed the waterman. "ay, hold on a-stern, and the devil take the hindmost, say i!" scene viii. in for it, or trying the middle. a little fat man with rod, basket, and can, and tackle complete, selected a seat on the branch of a wide-spreading tree, that stretch'd over a branch of the lea: there he silently sat, watching his float--like a tortoise-shell cat, that hath scented a mouse, in the nook of a room in a plentiful house. but alack! he hadn't sat long--when a crack at his back made him turn round and pale-and catch hold of his tail! but oh! 'twas in vain that he tried to regain the trunk of the treacherous tree; so he with a shake of his head despairingly said-"in for it,--ecod!" and away went his rod, and his best beaver hat, untiling his roof! but he cared not for that, for it happened to be a superb water proof, which not being himself, the poor elf! felt a world of alarm as the arm most gracefully bow'd to the stream, as if a respect it would show it, tho' so much below it! no presence of mind he dissembled, but as the branch shook so he trembled, and the case was no longer a riddle or joke; for the branch snapp'd and broke; and altho' the angler cried "its no go!" he was presently--'trying the middle.' seymour's sketches a day's sport "arena virumque cano." chapter i. the invitation--the outfit--and the sallying forth. to mr. augustus spriggs, at mr. williams's, grocer, addle street. (tower street, 31st august, 18__) my dear chum, dobbs has give me a whole holiday, and it's my intention to take the field to-morrow--and if so be you can come over your governor, and cut the apron and sleeves for a day--why "together we will range the fields;" and if we don't have some prime sport, my name's not dick, that's all. i've bought powder and shot, and my cousin which is shopman to my uncle at the corner, have lent me a couple of guns that has been 'popp'd.' don't mind the expense, for i've shot enough for both. let me know by jim if you can cut your stick as early as nine, as i mean to have a lift by the highgate what starts from the bank. mind, i won't take no refusal--so pitch it strong to the old 'un, and carry your resolution nem. con. and believe me to be, your old crony, richard grubb. p. s. the guns hasn't got them thingummy 'caps,' but that's no matter, for cousin says them cocks won't always fight: while them as he has lent is reg'lar good--and never misses fire nor fires amiss. in reply to this elegant epistle, mr. richard grubb was favoured with a line from mr. augustus spriggs, expressive of his unbounded delight in having prevailed upon his governor to 'let him out;' and concluding with a promise of meeting the coach at moorgate. at the appointed hour, mr. richard grubb, 'armed at all points,' mounted the stage--his hat cocked knowingly over his right eye--his gun half-cocked and slung over his shoulder, and a real penny cuba in his mouth. "a fine mornin' for sport," remarked mr. richard grubb to his fellow--passenger, a stout gentleman between fifty and sixty years of age, with a choleric physiognomy and a fierce-looking pigtail. "i dessay--" "do you hang out at highgate?" continued the sportsman. "hang out?" "ay, are you a hinhabitant?" "to be sure i am." "is there any birds thereabouts?" "plenty o' geese," sharply replied the old gentleman. "ha! ha! werry good!--but i means game;--partridges and them sort o' birds." "i never see any except what i've brought down." "i on'y vish i may bring down all i see, that's all," chuckled the joyous mr. grubb. "what's the matter?" "i don't at all like that 'ere gun." "lor! bless you, how timorsome you are, 'tain't loaded." "loaded or not loaded, it's werry unpleasant to ride with that gun o' yours looking into one's ear so." "vell, don't be afeard, i'll twist it over t'other shoulder,--there! but a gun ain't a coach, you know, vich goes off whether it's loaded or not. hollo! spriggs! here you are, my boy, lord! how you are figg'd out--didn't know you--jump up!" "vere's my instrument o' destruction?" enquired the lively augustus, when he had succeeded in mounting to his seat. "stow'd him in the boot!" the coachman mounted and drove off; the sportsmen chatting and laughing as they passed through 'merry islington.' "von't ve keep the game alive!" exclaimed spriggs, slapping his friend upon the back. "i dessay you will," remarked the caustic old boy with the pigtail; "for it's little you'll kill, young gentlemen, and that's my belief!" "on'y let's put 'em up, and see if we don't knock 'em down, as cleverly as mister robins does his lots," replied spriggs, laughing at his own wit. arrived at highgate, the old gentleman, with a step-fatherly anxiety, bade them take care of the 'spring-guns' in their perambulations. "thankee, old boy," said spriggs, "but we ain't so green as not to know that spring guns, like spring radishes, go off long afore autumn, you know!" chapter ii. the death of a little pig, which proves a great bore! "now let's load and prime--and make ready," said mr. richard, when they had entered an extensive meadow, "and--i say--vot are you about? don't put the shot in afore the powder, you gaby!" having charged, they shouldered their pieces and waded through the tall grass. "o! crikey!--there's a heap o' birds," exclaimed spriggs, looking up at a flight of alarmed sparrows. "shall i bring 'em down?" "i vish you could! i'd have a shot at 'em," replied mr. grubb, "but they're too high for us, as the alderman said ven they brought him a couple o' partridges vot had been kept overlong!" "my eye! if there ain't a summat a moving in that 'ere grass yonder--cock your eye!" "cock your gun--and be quiet," said mr. grubb. the anxiety of the two sportsmen was immense. "it's an hare--depend on't--stoop down--pint your gun,--and when i say fire--fire! there it is--fire!" bang! bang! went the two guns, and a piercing squeak followed the report. "ve've tickled him," exclaimed spriggs, as they ran to pick up the spoil. "ve've pickled him, rayther," cried grubbs, "for by gosh it's a piggy!" "hallo! you chaps, vot are you arter?" inquired a man, popping his head over the intervening hedge. "vy, i'm blessed if you ain't shot von o' stubbs's pigs." and leaping the hedge he took the 'pork' in his arms, while the sportsmen who had used their arms so destructively now took to their legs for security. but ignorance of the locality led them into the midst of a village, and the stentorian shouts of the pig-bearer soon bringing a multitude at their heels, mr. richard grubb was arrested in his flight. seized fast by the collar, in the grasp of the butcher and constable of the place, all escape was vain. spriggs kept a respectful distance. "now my fine fellow," cried he, brandishing his staff, "you 'ither pays for that 'ere pig, or ve'll fix you in the cage." now the said cage not being a bird-cage, mr. richard grubb could see no prospect of sport in it, and therefore fearfully demanded the price of the sucking innocent, declaring his readiness to 'shell out.' mr. stubbs, the owner, stepped forward, and valued it at eighteen shillings. "vot! eighteen shillings for that 'ere little pig!" exclaimed the astounded sportsman. "vy i could buy it in town for seven any day." but mr. stubbs was obdurate, and declared that he would not 'bate a farden,' and seeing no remedy, mr. richard grubb was compelled to 'melt a sovereign,' complaining loudly of the difference between country-fed and town pork! shouldering his gun, he joined his companion in arms, amid the jibes and jeers of the grinning rustics. "vell, i'm blowed if that ain't a cooler!" said he. "never mind, ve've made a hit at any rate," said the consoling spriggs, "and ve've tried our metal." "yes, it's tried my metal preciously--changed a suv'rin to two bob! by jingo!" "let's turn jews," said spriggs, "and make a vow never to touch pork again!" "vot's the use o' that?" "vy, we shall save our bacon in future, to be sure," replied spriggs, laughing, and grubb joining in his merriment, they began to look about them, not for fresh pork, but for fresh game. "no more shooting in the grass, mind!" said grubb, "or ve shall have the blades upon us agin for another grunter p'r'aps. our next haim must be at birds on the ving! no more forking out. shooting a pig ain't no lark --that's poz!" chapter iii. the sportsmen trespass on an enclosure--grubb gets on a paling and runs a risk of being impaled. "twig them trees?"--said grubb. "prime!" exclaimed spriggs, "and vith their leaves ve'll have an hunt there.--don't you hear the birds a crying 'sveet,' 'sveet?' thof all birds belong to the temperance society by natur', everybody knows as they're partic'larly fond of a little s'rub!" "think ve could leap the ditch?" said mr. richard, regarding with a longing look the tall trees and the thick underwood. "lauk! i'll over it in a jiffy," replied the elastic mr. spriggs there ain't no obelisk a sportsman can't overcome"--and no sooner had be uttered these encouraging words, than he made a spring, and came 'close-legged' upon the opposite bank; unfortunately, however, he lost his balance, and fell plump upon a huge stinging nettle, which would have been a treat to any donkey in the kingdom! "oh!--cuss the thing!" shrieked mr. spriggs, losing his equanimity with his equilibrium. "don't be in a passion, spriggs," said grubb, laughing. "me in a passion?--i'm not in a passion--i'm on'y--on'y--nettled!" replied he, recovering his legs and his good humour. mr. grubb, taking warning by his friend's slip, cautiously looked out for a narrower part of the ditch, and executed the saltatory transit with all the agility of a poodle. they soon penetrated the thicket, and a bird hopped so near them, that they could not avoid hitting it.--grubb fired, and sprigg's gun echoed the report. "ve've done him!" cried spriggs. "ve!--me, if you please." "vell--no matter," replied his chum, "you shot a bird, and i shot too!--vot's that?--my heye, i hear a voice a hollering like winkin; --bolt!" away scampered spriggs, and off ran grubb, never stopping till he reached a high paling, which, hastily climbing, he found himself literally upon tenter-hooks. "there's a man a coming, old fellow," said an urchin, grinning. "a man coming! vich vay? do tell me vich vay?" supplicated the sportsman. the little rogue, however, only stuck his thumb against his snub nose--winked, and ran off. but mr. grubb was not long held in suspense; a volley of inelegant phrases saluted his ears, while the thong of a hunting-whip twisted playfully about his leg. finding the play unequal, he wisely gave up the game--by dropping his bird on one side, and himself on the other; at the same time reluctantly leaving a portion of his nether garment behind him. "here you are!" cried his affectionate friend,--picking him up--"ain't you cotch'd it finely?" "ain't i, that's all?" said the almost breathless mr. grubb, "i'm almost dead." "dead!--nonsense--to be sure, you may say as how you're off the hooks! and precious glad you ought to be." "gracious me! spriggs, don't joke; it might ha' bin werry serious," said mr. grubb, with a most melancholy shake of the head:--"do let's get out o' this wile place." "vy, vat the dickins!" exclaimed spriggs, "you ain't sewed up yet, are you?" "no," replied grubb, forcing a smile in spite of himself, "i vish i vos, spriggs; for i 've got a terrible rent here!" delicately indicating the position of the fracture. and hereupon the two friends resolving to make no further attempt at bush-ranging, made as precipitate a retreat as the tangled nature of the preserve permitted. chapter iv. shooting a bird, and putting shot into a calf! "on'y think ven ve thought o' getting into a preserve--that ve got into a pickle," said sprigg, still chuckling over their last adventure. "hush!" cried grubb, laying his hand upon his arm--"see that bird hopping there?" "ve'll soon make him hop the twig, and no mistake," remarked spriggs. "there he goes into the 'edge to get his dinner, i s'pose." "looking for a 'edge-stake, i dare say," said the facetious spriggs. "now for it!" cried grubb! "pitch into him!" and drawing his trigger he accidentally knocked off the bird, while spriggs discharged the contents of his gun through the hedge. "hit summat at last!" exclaimed the delighted grubb, scampering towards the thorny barrier, and clambering up, he peeped into an adjoining garden. "will you have the goodness to hand me that little bird i've just shot off your 'edge," said he to a gardener, who was leaning on his spade and holding his right leg in his hand. "you fool," cried the horticulturist, "you've done a precious job--you've shot me right in the leg--o dear! o dear! how it pains!" "i'm werry sorry--take the bird for your pains," replied grubb, and apprehending another pig in a poke, he bobbed down and retreated as fast as his legs could carry him. "vot's frightened you?" demanded spriggs, trotting off beside his chum, "you ain't done nothing, have you?" "on'y shot a man, that's all." "the devil!" "it's true--and there'll be the devil to pay if ve're cotched, i can tell you--'vy the gardener vill swear as it's a reg'lar plant!--and there von't be no damages at all, if so be he says he can't do no work, and is obleeged to keep his bed--so mizzle!" with the imaginary noises of a hot pursuit at their heels, they leaped hedge, ditch, and style without daring to cast a look behind them--and it was not until they had put two good miles of cultivated land between them and the spot of their unfortunate exploit that they ventured to wheel about and breathe again. "vell, if this 'ere ain't a rum go!"--said spriggs--"in four shots--ve've killed a pig--knocked the life out o' one dicky-bird--and put a whole charge into a calf. vy, if ve go on at this rate we shall certainly be taken up and get a setting down in the twinkling of a bed-post!" "see if i haim at any think agin but vot's sitting on a rail or a post" --said mr. richard--"or s'pose spriggs you goes on von side of an 'edge and me on t'other--and ve'll get the game between us--and then--" "thankye for me, dick," interrupted spriggs, "but that'll be a sort o' cross-fire that i sha'n't relish no how.--vy it'll be just for all the world like fighting a jewel--on'y ve shall exchange shots--p'r'aps vithout any manner o' satisfaction to 'ither on' us. no--no--let's shoot beside von another--for if ve're beside ourselves ve may commit suicide." "my vig!" cries mr. grubb, "there's a covey on 'em." "vere?" "there!" "charge 'em, my lad." "stop! fust charge our pieces." having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dry ditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the tempting covey as near as possible. up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touched the triggers. "ve've nicked some on 'em." "dead as nits," said spriggs. "don't be in an hurry now," said the cautious mr. grubb, "ve don't know for certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit." "it can't be nothin' but a balloon then," replied spriggs, "for ve on'y fired in the hair i'll take my 'davy." turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they boldly advanced in order to appropriate the spoil. "here's feathers at any rate," said spriggs, "ve've blown him to shivers, by jingo!" "and here's a bird! hooray!" cried the delighted grubb--"and look'ee, here's another--two whole 'uns--and all them remnants going for nothing as the linen-drapers has it!" "vot are they, dick?" inquired spriggs, whose ornithological knowledge was limited to domestic poultry; "sich voppers ain't robins or sparrers, i take it." "vy!" said the dubious mr. richard-resting on his gun and throwing one leg negligently over the other--"i do think they're plovers, or larks, or summat of that kind." "vot's in a name; the thing ve call a duck by any other name vould heat as vell!" declaimed spriggs, parodying the immortal shakspeare. "talking o' heating, spriggs--i'm rayther peckish--my stomick's bin a-crying cupboard for a hour past.--let's look hout for a hinn!" chapter v. an extraordinary occurrence--a publican taking orders. tying the legs of the birds together with a piece of string, spriggs proudly carried them along, dangling at his fingers' ends. after tramping for a long mile, the friends at length discovered, what they termed, an house of "hentertainment." entering a parlour, with a clean, sanded floor, (prettily herring-boned, as the housemaids technically phrase it,) furnished with red curtains, half a dozen beech chairs, three cast-iron spittoons, and a beer-bleached mahogany table,--spriggs tugged at the bell. the host, with a rotund, smiling face, his nose, like bardolph's, blazing with fiery meteors, and a short, white apron, concealing his unmentionables, quickly answered the tintinabulary summons. "landlord," said spriggs, who had seated himself in a chair, while mr. richard was adjusting his starched collar at the window;--"landlord! ve should like to have this 'ere game dressed." the landlord eyed the 'game' through his spectacles, and smiled. "roasted, or biled, sir?" demanded he. "biled?--no:--roasted, to be sure!" replied spriggs, amazed at his pretended obtuseness: "and, i say, landlord, you can let us have plenty o' nice wedgetables." "greens?" said the host;--but whether alluding to the verdant character of his guests, or merely making a polite inquiry as to the article they desired, it was impossible, from his tone and manner, to divine. "greens!" echoed spriggs, indignantly; "no:--peas and 'taters." "directly, sir," replied the landlord; and taking charge of the two leetle birds, he departed, to prepare them for the table. "vot a rum cove that 'ere is," said grubb. "double stout, eh?" said spriggs, and then they both fell to a-laughing; and certain it is, that, although the artist has only given us a draught of the landlord, he was a subject sufficient for a butt! "vell! i must, say," said grubb, stretching his weary legs under the mahogany, "i never did spend sich a pleasant day afore--never!" "nor i," chimed in spriggs, "and many a day ven i'm a chopping up the 'lump' shall i think on it. it's ralely bin a hout and houter! lauk! how suke vill open her heyes, to be sure, ven i inform her how ve've bin out with two real guns, and kill'd our own dinner. i'm bless'd if she'll swallow it!" "i must say ve have seen a little life," said grubb. "and death too," added spriggs. "vitness the pig!" "now don't!" remonstrated grubb, who was rather sore upon this part of the morning's adventures. "and the gardener,"--persisted spriggs. "hush for goodness sake!" said mr. richard, very seriously, "for if that 'ere affair gets vind, ve shall be blown, and--" --in came the dinner. the display was admirable and very abundant, and the keen air, added to the unusual exercise of the morning, had given the young gentlemen a most voracious appetite. the birds were particularly sweet, but afforded little more than a mouthful to each. the 'wedgetables,' however, with a due proportion of fine old cheshire, and bread at discretion, filled up the gaps. it was only marvellous where two such slender striplings could find room to stow away such an alarming quantity. how calm and pleasant was the 'dozy feel' that followed upon mastication, as they opened their chests (and, if there ever was a necessity for such an action, it was upon this occasion,) and lolling back in their chairs, sipped the 'genuine malt and hops,' and picked their teeth! the talkative spriggs became taciturn. his gallantry, however, did prompt him, upon the production of a 'fresh pot,' to say, "vell, grubbs, my boy, here's the gals!" "the gals!" languidly echoed mr. richard, tossing off his tumbler, with a most appropriate smack. chapter vi. the reckoning. "pull the bell, spriggs," said mr. richard, "and let's have the bill." mr. augustus spriggs obeyed, and the landlord appeared. "vot's to pay?" "send you the bill directly, gentlemen," replied the landlord, bowing, and trundling out of the room. the cook presently entered, and laying the bill at mr. grubb's elbow, took off the remnants of the 'game,' and left the sportsmen to discuss the little account. "my eye! if this ain't a rum un!" exclaimed grubb, casting his dilating oculars over the slip. "vy, vot's the damage?" enquired spriggs. "ten and fourpence." "ten and fourpence!--never!" cried his incredulous companion. "vot a himposition." "vell!" said mr. grubb, with a bitter emphasis, "if this is finding our own wittles, we'll dine at the hor'nary next time"-"let's have a squint at it," said mr. spriggs, reaching across the table; but all his squinting made the bill no less, and he laid it down with a sigh. "it is coming it rayther strong, to be sure," continued he; "but i dare say it's all our happearance has as done it. he takes us for people o' consequence, and"-"vot consequence is that to us?" said grubbs, doggedly. "vell, never mind, dick, it's on'y vonce a-year, as the grotto-boys says--" "it need'nt to be; or i'll be shot if he mightn't vistle for the brads. howsomever, there's a hole in another suv'rin." "ve shall get through it the sooner," replied the consoling spriggs. "i see, grubb, there aint a bit of the frenchman about you"-"vy, pray?" "cos, you know, they're fond o' changing their suv'rins, and--you aint!" the pleasant humour of spriggs soon infected grubb, and he resolved to be jolly, and keep up the fun, in spite of the exorbitant charge for the vegetable addenda to their supply of game. "come, don't look at the bill no more," advised spriggs, but treat it as old villiams does his servants ven they displeases him." "how's that?" "vy, discharge it, to be sure," replied he. this sage advice being promptly followed, the sportsmen, shouldering their guns, departed in quest of amusement. they had not, however, proceeded far on their way, before a heavy shower compelled them to take shelter under a hedge. "werry pleasant!" remarked spriggs. "keep your powder dry," said grubb. "leave me alone," replied spriggs; "and i think as we'd better pop our guns under our coat-tails too, for these ere cocks aint vater-cocks, you know! vell, i never seed sich a rain. i'm bless'd if it vont drive all the dickey-birds to their nestes." "i vish i'd brought a numberella," said grubbs. "lank! vot a pretty fellow you are for a sportsman!" said spriggs, "it don't damp my hardour in the least. all veathers comes alike to me, as the butcher said ven he vos a slaughtering the sheep!" mr. richard grubb, here joined in the laugh of his good-humoured friend, whose unwearied tongue kept him in spirits--rather mixed indeed than neat--for the rain now poured down in a perfect torrent. "i say, dick," said spriggs, "vy are ve two like razors?" "cos ve're good-tempered?" "werry good; but that aint it exactly--cos ve're two bright blades, vot has got a beautiful edge!" "a hexcellent conundrum," exclaimed grubb. "vere do you get 'em?' "all made out of my own head,--as the boy said ven be showed the wooden top-spoon to his father!" chapter vii. a sudden explosion--a hit by one of the sportsmen, which the other takes amiss. a blustering wind arose, and like a burly coachman on mounting his box, took up the rain! the two crouching friends taking advantage of the cessation in the storm, prepared to start. but in straightening the acute angles of their legs and arms, mr. sprigg's piece, by some entanglement in his protecting garb, went off, and the barrel striking mr. grubb upon the os nasi, stretched him bawling on the humid turf. "o! lord! i'm shot." "o! my heye!" exclaimed the trembling spriggs. "o! my nose!" roared grubb. "here's a go!" "it's no go!--i'm a dead man!" blubbered mr. richard. mr. augustus spriggs now raised his chum upon his legs, and was certainly rather alarmed at the sanguinary effusion. "vere's your hankercher?--here!--take mine,--that's it--there!--let's look at it." "can you see it?" said grubb, mournfully twisting about his face most ludicrously, and trying at the same time to level his optics towards the damaged gnomon. "yes!" "i can't feel it," said grubb; "it's numbed like dead." "my gun vent off quite by haccident, and if your nose is spoilt, can't you have a vax von?--come, it ain't so bad!" "a vax von, indeed!--who vouldn't rather have his own nose than all the vax vons in the vorld?" replied poor richard. "i shall never be able to show my face." "vy not?--your face ain't touched, it's on'y your nose!" "see, if i come out agin in an hurry," continued the wounded sportsman. "i've paid precious dear for a day's fun. the birds vill die a nat'ral death for me, i can tell you." "it vos a terrible blow--certainly," said spriggs; "but these things vill happen in the best riggle'ated families!" "how can that be? there's no piece, in no quiet and respectable families as i ever seed!" and with this very paradoxical dictum, mr. grubb trudged on, leading himself by the nose; spriggs exerting all his eloquence to make him think lightly of what grubb considered such a heavy affliction; for after all, although he had received a terrible contusion, there were no bones broken: of which spriggs assured his friend and himself with a great deal of feeling! luckily the shades of evening concealed them from the too scrutinizing observation of the passengers they encountered on their return, for such accidents generally excite more ridicule than commiseration. spriggs having volunteered his services, saw grubb safe home to his door in tower street, and placing the two guns in his hands, bade him a cordial farewell, promising to call and see after his nose on the morrow. the following parody of a customary paragraph in the papers will be considered, we think, a most fitting conclusion to their day's sport. "in consequence of a letter addressed to mr. augustus spriggs, by mr. richard grubb, the parties met early yesterday morning, but after firing several shots, we are sorry to state that they parted without coming to any satisfactory conclusion." by the internet archive benjamin disraeli the earl of beaconsfield, k.g. cartoons from "punch" 1843-1878. 1878. benjamin disraeli, earl of beaconsfield, k.g. on of isaac d'israeli, author of _curiosities of literature_, of jewish extraction; born in london 21st december, 1805; published his political novel, _vivian grey_, 1825; travelled in the east between 1828 and 1831; contested wycombe in 1831, and marylebone, 1833, both unsuccessfully; was returned for maidstone, 1837; for shrewsbury, 1841; for bucks, 1847; member of sir r. peel's party until peel became a convert to free trade, from which time mr. disraeli allied himself closely with the conservatives, of whom he became the leader in the house of commons after the death of lord george bentinck in 1848; conspicuous for his attacks on peel in parliament; chancellor of the exchequer in lord derby's first ministry, 1852; and in his second, 1858-9; in 1859 brought in a reform bill which was defeated by the whigs; again chancellor of the exchequer in lord derby's third ministry, july, 1866; brought in a second reform bill, based on household suffrage, which was passed, 1867; on lord derby's resignation, february, 1868, became prime minister, which office he resigned at the end of the year; on mr. gladstone's government resigning office, in consequence of their defeat on the irish university bill, march, 1873, mr. disraeli was commissioned by the queen to form a ministry, but declined to do so under the then circumstances. on mr. gladstone appealing to the country in 1874, the election returns placed him in a minority, and he resigned without meeting the new parliament; mr. disraeli succeeded him as prime minister and formed his cabinet, march, 1874; created earl of beaconsfield, august, 1876; first plenipotentiary for great britain at the congress of berlin, 1878, and k.g. lord beaconsfield's principal novels (besides _vivian grey_) are _the young duke, henrietta temple, and venetia_, and, since his entrance on political life, _coningsby, sybil, tancred, and lothair._ london, 1878. a list of the cartoons. the infant hercules...........................................title 1845. young gulliver and the brobdingnag minister.............001 1846. a political application of an old fable.................002 1847. the rising generation-in parliament "cheap-jack"........004 1848. the parliamentary toots.................................005 1849. cock-a-doodle-doo; or, the great protectionist..........006 " the farmers' will-o'-the wisp...........................007 " disraeli measuring the british lion.....................008 1850. the protection "dodge"..................................009 " agriculture...the rial "unprotected female".............010 " gulliver and the brobdingnag farmers....................011 1851. dressing for a masquerade...............................012 " the ghost of protection appearing to mr. disraeli.......013 1852. "the game of speculation"...............................014 " the protection giant....................................015 " up goes the quartern loaf...............................016 " a plain question........................................017 " an easy place...........................................018 " a bit of animated nature................................019 " the easter recess.......................................020 " the "calculating" boy gets the prize for arithmetic.....021 " the downing street cad..................................022 " the political chameleon.................................023 " "a dissolving view".....................................024 " something looms in the future...........................025 " a dip in the free trade sea.............................026 " the political topsy.....................................027 " mrs. gamp taking the little "party".....................028 " a scene from english history............................029 " a dirty trick-bespattering decent people................030 " swell mob at the opening of parliament..................031 " the balancing brothers of westminster...................032 " the asiatic mystery.....................................033 " palmerston selling off..................................034 " the rival black dolls...................................035 " dizzy and his constituent...............................036 " the last pantomime of the season........................037 " great poaching affray on the liberal preserves..........038 " the anglers' return.....................................039 " a derby obstruction.....................................040 " a derby spill...........................................041 " the fight at st. stephen's academy......................042 " dressing for an oxford bal masqué.......................043 " dizzy's k'rect card for the "derby" (?).................044 " dizzy's arithmetic......................................045 " pudding before meat.....................................046 " the first question......................................047 " political "economy".....................................048 " "heads i win, tails you lose"...........................049 " the honest potboy.......................................050 1867. blind man's buff........................................051 " the "irrepressible lodger"..............................052 " extremes must meet; or, a bit of practical science......053 " the derby, 1867, dizzy wins with "reform bill"..........054 " the political egg-dance.................................055 " "the return from victory"...............................056 " puff at st. stephen's...................................057 " fagin's political school................................058 1868. the new head master.....................................059 " rival stars.............................................060 " steering under difficulties.............................061 " the political leotard...................................062 " ben and his bogey.......................................063 " rival actors............................................064 " a political parallel....................................065 1870. critics.................................................066 1871. the strong government...................................067 " "out of the bag"........................................068 1872. the lancashire lions....................................069 " the conservative programme..............................070 1873. the two augurs..........................................071 " "how not to say it".....................................072 1874. paradise and the peri...................................073 " the winning "stroke"....................................074 " the great "trick act"...................................075 " a real conservative revival.............................076 1875. "good-bye!".............................................077 " the indignant bystander.................................078 " more slaveries than one.................................079 " "permissive" government.................................080 " "in egitto!!!"..........................................081 1876. the "extinguisher" trick................................082 " the lion's share........................................083 " service stores..........................................084 " "new crowns for old ones!"..............................085 " "the jolly anglers".....................................086 " the sphinx is silent....................................087 " neutrality tinder difficulties..........................088 " empress and earl........................................089 " the turkish bath........................................090 " "a mistake!"............................................091 1877. "woodman, spare that tree!".............................092 " benjamin bombastes......................................093 1878. the dizzy brink.........................................094 " "the mysterious cabinet trick"..........................095 " "the confidence trick!".................................096 " new persuasions.........................................097 " "imperial" guard........................................098 " figures from a "triumph"................................099 " "façon de parler!"......................................100 " "happy family" at berlin................................101 " the schoolmaster abroad.................................102 " triumph!................................................103 " "pas de deux!"..........................................104 cartoons {001} [illustration: 001] {002} [illustration: 002] {003} [illustration: 003] {004} [illustration: 004] {005} [illustration: 005] {006} [illustration: 006] {007} [illustration: 007] {008} [illustration: 008] {009} [illustration: 009] {010} [illustration: 010] {011} [illustration: 011] {012} [illustration: 012] {013} [illustration: 013] {014} [illustration: 014] {015} [illustration: 015] {016} [illustration: 016] {017} [illustration: 017] {018} [illustration: 018] {019} [illustration: 019] {020} [illustration: 020] {021} [illustration: 021] {022} [illustration: 022] {023} [illustration: 023] {024} [illustration: 024] {025} [illustration: 025] {026} [illustration: 026] {027} [illustration: 027] {028} [illustration: 028] {029} [illustration: 029] {030} [illustration: 030] {031} [illustration: 031] {032} [illustration: 032] {033} [illustration: 033] {034} [illustration: 034] {035} [illustration: 035] {036} [illustration: 036] {037} [illustration: 037] {038} [illustration: 038] {039} [illustration: 039] {040} [illustration: 040] {041} [illustration: 041] {042} [illustration: 042] {043} [illustration: 043] {044} [illustration: 044] {045} [illustration: 045] {046} [illustration: 046] {047} [illustration: 047] {048} [illustration: 048] {049} [illustration: 049] {050} [illustration: 050] {051} [illustration: 051] {052} [illustration: 052] {053} [illustration: 053] {054} [illustration: 054] {055} [illustration: 055] {056} [illustration: 056] {057} [illustration: 057] {058} [illustration: 058] {059} [illustration: 059] {060} [illustration: 060] {061} [illustration: 061] {062} [illustration: 062] {063} [illustration: 063] {064} [illustration: 064] {065} [illustration: 065] {066} [illustration: 066] {067} [illustration: 067] {068} [illustration: 068] {069} [illustration: 069] {070} [illustration: 070] {071} [illustration: 071] {072} [illustration: 072] {073} [illustration: 073] {074} [illustration: 074] {075} [illustration: 075] {076} [illustration: 076] {077} [illustration: 077] {078} [illustration: 078] {079} [illustration: 079] {080} [illustration: 080] {081} [illustration: 081] {082} [illustration: 082] {083} [illustration: 083] {084} [illustration: 084] {085} [illustration: 085] {086} [illustration: 086] {087} [illustration: 087] {088} [illustration: 088] {089} [illustration: 089] {090} [illustration: 090] {091} [illustration: 091] {092} [illustration: 092] {093} [illustration: 093] {094} [illustration: 094] {095} [illustration: 095] {096} [illustration: 096] {097} [illustration: 097] {098} [illustration: 098] {099} [illustration: 099] {100} [illustration: 100] {101} [illustration: 101] {102} [illustration: 102] {103} [illustration: 103] {104} [illustration: 104] {105} [illustration: 105] {106} [illustration: 106] {107} [illustration: 107] price: three pence a humorous history of england the essentials of england's history told in rhyme light and amusing told and pictured by c. harrison. price 3d. with forty eight illustrations concerning anæmia (poorness of blood.) in men and women, _by the late dr. andrew wilson._ _the public are very familiar with the term "anæmia," and this fact alone testifies to the extremely common nature of the ailment thus indicated._ _as a rule anæmia shows a gradual progress. there is experienced a feeling of lassitude, of being "easily tired out," and a distaste for active exertion. the digestion is enfeebled, and, without feeling actually ill, the sufferer inclines towards an inactive life, while the appetite usually disappears, and a general bodily upset is represented. the lips are pale, the red of the eyelids, seen by turning down the lower eyelid, will exhibit a similar appearance. breathlessness is another notable sign; the least exertion, going upstairs for instance, causes the sufferer to pant, because the heart, not being supplied with blood of good quality, cannot perform its work properly. the pulse is weak and irregular._ _for anæmia (shown by breathlessness on slight exertion, pallor, depression and weakness) doctors prescribe the well-known iron jelloids no. 2.--there is nothing better._ _for debility, weakness and nerviness, men find the ideal tonic and restorative in iron jelloids no. 2a._ _a ten days treatment (price 1/3) will convince you._ [illustration: iron 'jelloids' (_pronounced jell-lloyds._)] reliable tonic for men iron jelloids no. 2a. for anæmia in men and women iron jelloids no. 2. for growing children iron jelloids no. 1. _of all chemists. a ten days treatment 1/3. large size 3/-_ _manufactured by the iron jelloid co., ltd., 189, central street, london e.c.1. england._ a humorous history of england told and pictured by c. harrison published by warrick & bird, 4, nile street, london, n.1. 1920. [illustration: an after-dinner speech in ye olden time. (and any other time.)] [illustration: boadicea.] preface _"arms and the man" was virgil's strain; but we propose in lighter vein to browse a crop from pastures (green's) of england's evolution scenes. who would from facts prognosticate the future progress of this state, must own the chiefest fact to be her escalator is the sea._ [illustration: "take cover"] prehistoric historians erudite and sage, when writing of the past stone age, tell us man once was clothed in skins and tattooed patterns on his shins. rough bearded and with shaggy locks he lived in dug-outs in the rocks. was often scared and run to earth by creatures of abnormal girth: mammoths and monsters; truth to tell we find their names too long to spell. he joined in little feuds no doubt; and with his weapons fashioned out of flint, went boldly to the fray; and cracked a skull or two per day. druids we read of priests of celtic day, ancient druids, holding sway by smattering of occult law and man's eternal sense of awe. stonehenge they used stonehenge on salisbury plain reputed prehistoric fane; note each megalithic boulder; no monument in europe's older. [illustration] [illustration: "veni, vidi, vici"] phoenicians merchant explorers of that day, hustling phoenicians, came this way to ship tin ore from cornish mines three thousand years before these lines. but still in spite of petty strife man lived what's termed the 'simple life' julius cæsar till julius cæsar in five-five b.c. 55 with his galleys did arrive. he wrote despatches of the best, 'veni, vidi' and the rest, sending the news of victory home; and flags then fluttered high in rome. his 'photo' one plain fact discloses he brought in fashion roman noses. of this great general 'tis allowed the best 'life' is by j. a. froude. boadicea boadicea earns our praise. a.d. 62 first woman leader in those days; for freedom strove all she could do, 'twas lost in a.d. sixty-two. agricola then came agricola one day and gained a battle near the tay. he started trimming up this isle, and laid out roads in roman style. east, north, south, west, it's safe to say his handiwork is traced to-day. the natives too were taught to know by busy merchants' constant flow the wisdom that great empire held; their ignorance was thus dispelled. romans left about four hundred-ten a.d. a.d. 410 the romans left sans cérémonie. can it be wondered at when rome was needing help 'gainst huns at home. our antiquarians often find the relics which they left behind; a villa here and pavement there, coins galore and roman ware. [illustration] anglo-saxons and so we run our flippant rhymes a.d. 430 right on to anglo-saxon times. hengist and horsa with their men came from their jutish pirate den, jutes and paid us visits in their ships bent on their ruthless looting trips. and angles landing in the humber gave that district little slumber. they plundered morning, noon, and night, were rough, uncouth, and impolite, no 'by your leave' or 's'il vous plait' they came to rob, remained to prey. horsa horsa was slain in four-five-five, 455 leaving hengist still alive to live out his allotted term, surviving partner of the firm. king arthur time has many a fable wound about king arthur's table round, where knights quaffed cordials, wines and ales, and told their little fairy tales. augustine about six hundred years a.d. 597 to teach us christianity came augustine. wondrous story; canterbury's pile his glory. heptarchy called 'heptarchy' the seven saxon 827 states each other made attacks on; after four hundred years they'd striven they coalesced in eight-two-seven. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] alfred of good king alfred we've all heard 872-901 how when hiding he incurred a lady's anger for not taking care of cakes which she was baking. (most probably she left the king while she went out a-gossiping.) before he died in nine-nought-one, old england's navy had begun. he laid a tax on every town to aid his fleet to gain renown. he was the best of saxon kings and did a lot of useful things; built oxford with its noble spires and mapped out england into shires. danes in seven-eight-three first came the danes 783 who caused the saxons aches and pains. they sailed right up our rivers broad, putting the natives to the sword. "danegeld" for centuries our sadly fated 991 towns by them were devastated. etheldred the 'unready toff' by 'danegeld' tries to buy them off. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] canute two hundred years the raiding danes 1014-1036 came over. then their canute reigns. we'll merely mention that he tried an object lesson with the tide. hardicanute hardicanute, sad to confess, 1039-1041 died from drinking to excess. he couldn't conquer love of wine and with him went the danish line. edward edward the confessor staid the confessor the saxon line renewed. remade 1041-1066 at westminster the abbey grand, and signed the first 'will' in this land. and since his time ('tis not refuted) scores of wills have been disputed. ah! legal quibbles such as these mean lawyers waxing rich on fees. harold harold last of the saxon line 1066 at hastings made an effort fine and lost his life--it was to be, crushed by the men of normandy. from scandinavia they'd come, and made fair normandy their home; william the whence william spying out our shore, conqueror oliver-twist-like, wanted more. 1066-1087 in ten-six-six he won the day in that tough fight out hastings way. of course, no record in our reach, depicts 'ole bill' thus on the beach. [illustration] [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic goode nyghte] william the but one thing's certain. camera men, conqueror if only they'd existed then, 1066-1087 would have journeyed many a mile to 'snap' king william's happy smile. they made him king and schoolbooks say he ruled with arbitrary sway; demanding with sharp battle axes instant payment of big taxes. curfew and p'raps it's just as well to tell he introduced the curfew bell; so at the early hour of eight each doused his glim, raked out his grate. in bed at eight p.m. each day life was but sombre, dull and grey; no cutting fancy ball room capers, no cinemas or evening papers. he was a bully it is true, but to allow him his just due he made reforms; he also took in hand the bulky doomsday book. in william's time we're glad to write people began to be polite; ladies curtseyed to their beaux, who smartly raised their gay chapeaux. the jews the jews he introduced from spain bringing much knowledge in their train of arts and science; but 'longshanks' expelled them with no word of thanks. feudalism these were the well known feudal days, tenants were slaves in many ways to mighty lords who owned the land and ruled them with an iron hand. not free from duties were the lords, the king could call upon their swords and men to fight in time of need. so feudal laws of old decreed. william rufus william rufus or the 'red' 1087-1100 in ten-eight-seven ruled instead; this may be; but we know, alack, though he was red his deeds were black. crusades the first crusade in ten-nine-five, 1095 a million men, a very hive, swarm to the east, the holy plain from the mohammedans to gain. henry i. henry the first, of wisdom rife, 1100-1135 saxon matilda makes his wife, saxon and norman line uniting, a learned chap who loved not fighting. stephen stephen of blois ascends the throne 1135-115 and 'gainst matilda holds his own; grandson of the conqueror; died in eleven-fifty-four. henry ii. henry the second claims our rhyme 1154-1189 'the hardest worker of his time'; a wiser king we never had nor father with his sons so bad. becket this the first 'plantagenet' king with becket strove like anything; church v. which should be master, church or crown crown pull-king pull-bishop; both went down. thomas was murdered by four knights on steps of altar--sorry wights: with bleeding feet the king atones by pilgrimage to becket's bones. despite his struggles with the church he knocked the barons off their perch, fifteen hundred castles razing in a manner quite amazing. law trial by jury further grows; the king's court in this reign arose; our parliaments from this proceed and all our other courts indeed. linen linen's first used in twelve-five woollens alone in vogue before. glass windows in eleven-eight-nought first came to pass the novelty of window glass. and doubtless playful little boys full of children's simple joys, cracked as our youngsters often do with stones or ball a pane or two. richard coeur de lion from one crusade coeur de lion returning was a prisoner made. 1189-1199 but blondel played an air he knew, the king joined in; voilà the clue. this catchy tune in a pleasant key opened the door to liberty. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] john and so we'll quickly journey on 1199-1216 until we reach the reign of john; a king whose list of crimes was heavy; he treated badly his young 'nevvy'. magna charta he signed the magna charta. yes; 1215 in twelve-fifteen, but we may guess with much ill grace and many a twist; for king john wrote an awful fist. john loses normandy to france and by this beneficial chance in england comes amalgamation; normans and saxons form one nation robin hood and now we come to robin hood, the forest bandit of sherwood, a popular hero much belauded but not by folks whom he'd defrauded. there's no need to descant upon his boon companion 'little john'; or 'friar tuck' so overblown he tipped the scale at fifteen stone. henry iii. and what of henry number three, 1216-1272 the king who suffered poverty? it's very awkward we must own to be 'hard up' when on a throne; [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] to have to scrape up an amount to pay the butcher on account, or ask a dun in kingly way to kindly call some other day. coinage in twelve-five-seven it is stated 1257 gold was coined and circulated, ha'pence and farthings just before; in those times worth a great deal more. langton the bible which from over seas died 1228 had no chapters and no verses was by archbishop langton's skill divided as we use it still. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] why was it henry iii. allowed at court a huge rapacious crowd to drain his coffers nearly dry flattering with cajolery? [illustration: alle fees in advance earlye closinge daye thursdaye] astrology many simple folk, (it's queer) used to patronise the seer and pay cash down for magic spell perchance a horoscope as well. or open wide at special rate that musty tome the book of fate; or seek the philtre's subtle aid to win the hand of some fair maid. we mus'nt miss the troubadours who went forth on their singing tours, twanging harps and trilling lays to maids of medieval days. and oh! the right good merry times with maskers, mummers and the mimes, hobby horses gaily prancing, bats and bowls and maypole dancing. when folks would take a lengthy journey to see the knights at joust or tourney: or watch the early english 'knuts' show their skill at archery butts. then come gloomy history pages on torture of the middle ages; the clanking fetters grim and black, the thumbscrew and the awful rack, the horrors of the dungeon deep beneath the moat or castle keep, rusty locks and heavy keys and--let us change the subject, please. first house of commons twelve-six-five, at westminster they all arrive. simon de simon de montfort was the man montfort who 'engineered' this useful plan. 1265 and we can picture these m.p.s newly fledged and ill at ease doing their level best to try to catch the embryo speaker's eye. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] edward i. edward first 'longshanks' nicknamed 1272-1307 for his lengthy stride far-famed. here he is in twelve-seven-two bounding along with much ado. a soldier, statesman and a king his lofty ideals picturing that england, scotland, wales all three, united should one country be. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] first prince in twelve-eight-two annexes wales; of wales where afterwards no strife prevails. 1282 he promised a prince with english so gave his new-born speechless son. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] edward i. next scotland edward tries to tackle 1272-1307 no easy task the scotch to shackle; (continued) wallace and bruce resistance make, the king dies ere he gains the stake. in edward's reign some author writes they first used candle dips for lights; and coal came in about this date mixed (as to-day) with lots of slate. [illustration: iron jelloids] so monarchs, barons, dukes and knights warmed their toes with derby brights; but those in hovels had the smuts arising from cheap kitchen nuts. roger bacon roger bacon (ob. twelve-nine-three) 1293 versed was in arts of alchemy; gunpowder's composition knew; and many another chemic brew. many mortmain acts are passed; six centuries these efforts last to stop the hungry hierarchy devouring all the squirearchy. lollards lollards in thirteen-seven arose 1307 popish rituals to oppose; john wycliffe gives to old and young the bible in the vulgar tongue. with john of gaunt's protection strong he dared to preach 'gainst cleric wrong; precursor of the reformation to liberal thought attuned the nation. edward ii. edward the second with his minions 1307-1327 governs badly these dominions his son a man of different mould edward iii. was edward three, both wise and bold. 1327-1377 through clinging to their french domains our kings are french through many reigns and edward fighting in this cause french wars commenced a hundred years of wars. a century's struggle. for our pains only calais town remains. a century after this 'twas lost, in mary's reign. oh! what a frost. weaving in thirteen-three-one england's taught 1331 weaving by men from flanders brought. ryghte goode cloth with lots of 'body' the world was then not up to 'shoddy.' blanket of bristol in this year invented blankets for our cheer; and since that time its been our boast our beds have been as warm as toast. edward 'black prince' one-three-four-six, a brave and noble warrior, 'licks' crecy the valiant french in crecy's fray; 1346 cannon first used upon this day, causing panic with their rattle; but the yeomen win the battle, for, flicking arrows from their bows they 'filled the air as when it snows.' thereon the english calais seize and of the channel hold the keys; the spanish pirates bend the knee then edward iii's 'king of the sea.' parliament lords and commons from this date 1376 have their meetings separate, the commons first a speaker make the chancellors the woolsack take. ten lady members have the lords but doubtless fearful of their words, or thinking it not orthodoxy, they only let them vote by proxy. while church and barons have their squabbles the house of commons more power nobbles; on laws and taxes dares speak out and give the pope the right-about. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic kinge rychard ye ii quarrelinge withe hysse people] leasing leasing or farming, we are taught, was introduced 'bout twelve-nought-nought; the feudal system's weakened and the tenants 'usufruct' the land. on various counts the serfs go free and work for wages (edward three). the black death and the foreign wars in labour ranks commotion cause; strikes and craftsmen's combination then arise among the nation; these movements preached by one john ball, who, born too soon, was hanged withal. richard ii. now comes the second richard's reign. 1377-1399 it is recorded very plain that he was full of discontent quarrelling with his parliament. [illustration: "by my halidom i'll not pay it"] poll tax with his taxes super-sated 1380 the peasants grew exasperated; they threw their spades and pitchforks down and marched as rebels into town. thirteen-eighty's poll taxation puts equal tax on all the nation; lays seven thousand peasants dead; wat tyler and jack straw at head. præmunire præmunire act is passed to check the papal bulls at last. chaucer chaucer the poet this same year makes pilgrimage to becket's bier. [illustration: fortes fortuna juvat. iron jelloids the great tonic] age of this was the age, aye verily, chivalry of ryghte goode noble chivalry, when knights went forth through storm and stress to rescue beauty in distress. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic.] or sallied out in valiant way a monster dragon for to slay, or with lance or trusty blade defend from harm the hapless maid. henry iv. henry four, called 'bolingbroke' 1399-1413 in richard's wheel puts many a spoke; compels him to resign the throne which thereupon he makes his own. through john of gaunt, lancastrian famed, his title to the crown he claimed; the parliament confirms his right and thus he's king without a fight. in this reign persecution's turned lollards against the lollards--cobham's burned. 1401 incredible! the records show a statute 'de comburondo.' henry v. from fourteen-thirteen, henry five, 1413-1422 for many years with france did strive; his widow founds the tudor house by taking owen for her spouse. henry vi. henry six, next in our rhymes, 1422-1461 for fifty years had troublous times; wars of roses, wars with france, the poor man never had a chance. joan of arc joan of arc the peasant maid 1430 inspired the french with mystic aid; disunited, we make peace, all france but calais we release. constantinople constantinople's seized by turks 1453 causing greek scholars (with their works) to fly to italy; and thence learning's reborn--'the renaissance.' edward iv. in edward fourth, fourteen-six-one 1461-1483 the house of york obtains the throne. he wins at towton's bloody fray, no quarter given on that day. guy, earl of warwick in these frays was always turning different ways; barnet on barnet field he met his doom 1471 the rose of york's now well abloom. the barons, church and commons fall, the king emerges boss of all. benevolences he exacts, an early form of super tax. earl of 'kingmaker' was earl warwick styled warwick with his manner scarcely mild he set kings up and bowled them down playing at ninepins with the crown. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] wars of roses white and red rose warring madly 1485 bled the country very sadly, three-and-thirty years contending; at bosworth field we see the ending. printing first in fourteen-seventy-three 1473 we print from type in this countree. now it is that time's first measured by monster watches greatly treasured. thomas parr this centurie his hundred-fifty years did see; but henry jenkins, so 'tis said, in age was seventeen years ahead. hoary patriarchs were these retaining p'raps their faculties; what a comfort 'tis to mention neither drew the old age pension. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic ye bookeworme burninge ye midnyghte oile] printing started through the nation a taste for higher education; here is a citizen at home; note his very brainy dome. richard iii. richard (crookback) in fateful hour 1483-1485 smothered his nephews in the tower, he murdered them the crown to gain; a heavy price for three years' reign. the scutcheon's blotted terribly of this king richard number three, for it seems his recreation was ordering decapitation. 1485 on bosworth field when sorely pressed he made a bid th'uncommonest 'my kingdom for a horse' he cried; no offers coming, there he died. henry vii. lancastrian richmond wins the fight 1485-1509 and to make his title right elizabeth of york espouses, thus uniting the two houses. this henry seven of tudor line to misers' habits did incline; twelve millions stated to possess, a tidy little fortune! yes! star chamber much he managed to extort by means of a star chamber court from the rich nobles; a new wile for adding to the kingly pile. with cash in hand he could attain his wish as autocrat to reign; as sole possessor of the guns the king no risk from rebels runs. [illustration: skyscrape flats to be erected here buy hustles chewing gum fifth avenue iron jelloids the great tonic] columbus columbus, full of travellers' lore, 1498 by going west sought india's shore; but found america's wondrous land; his 'exes' paid by ferdinand. of voyagers we've now a lot vasco da gama and cabot, who sailed from bristol, whence it grew bristolians claim this fine cuckoo. [illustration: henry viii pops the question] henry viii. now henry eight comes on the screen, 1509-1547 a stalwart youth, ætat. eighteen; with youthful hope the nation's buoyed; only, alas! to be destroyed. [illustration: henry ye eighth thynkynge offe ye past] henry viii. this king henry number eight 1509-1547 six times tried the married state; (continued) and certainly of all the kings spent the most on wedding rings. but to search through old archives for tales of henry and his wives and all their little tiffs to trace we cannot spare the time or space. yet there are some who fain would sing the praises of this rotund king; but as a husband we're afraid his category's lowest grade. he wielded harsh the despot's power, and packed his wives off to the tower; consigned them to a fate most dreaded; two, alas! he had beheaded. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _hail now to thee our good queen bess!_] henry viii. (continued) reformation martin luther, fifteen-one-seven, 1517 sows his reformation leaven; it finds a culture medium here in the 'new learning's' atmosphere. of this new learning more's the chief, utopia's author, he's 'mid grief beheaded, saying cool and calm, 'cut not my beard, that's done no harm.' his friend erasmus, logic's master, trimmed his sails and 'scaped disaster. a third, dean colet who st. paul's school london into being calls. wolsey in fifteen-thirty wolsey great, 1530 a cardinal and man of state, from butcher's son had risen high. reader! consult your shakespeare nigh. blamed by some; by others praised; he fell; but still the pile he raised most nobly graces hampton court. give wolsey then a tender thought. his main ambition that the king should be supreme in everything; thomas and thomas cromwell followed suit cromwell to make his master absolute head of the church within his realm. these two most able at the helm; but not with skill enough endued to 'scape their king's ingratitude. despotical the king's power grew. he's england's pope by act of su premacy; as, to gain divorce, the foreign pope is banned perforce. 1537 now bluff king harry gives the monks a series of most awful funks; three thousand odd of their domains he 'collars' for his courtiers' gains. edward vi. edward six to the throne succeeds 1547-1553 a pious youth of goodly deeds; one, well known in the capital, the blue coat school (christ's hospital). mary queen mary one, in smithfield square, 1553-1558 at oxford, gloucester and elsewhere, burned poor martyrs by the score; the romish faith she would restore. elizabeth hail now to thee our good queen bess, 1558-1603 garbed in the puffed and padded dress, farthingale and starched up frills, meaning heavy laundry bills. od's bodikins; what monstrous ruffs, what gowns of rich embroidered stuffs piped and scolloped, trimmed with furs, and shaped like huge gasometers. now we've warfare of the creeds, for their thoughts all europe bleeds; each party seeks by force to make the other side its faith forsake. spain the great power of those days in these contentions first part plays. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic plymouth hoe bowling club] drake drake at bowls on plymouth hoe left his game to meet this foe and came home laden we are told with seachests full of spanish gold. armada in fifteen-eight-eight armada strong 1588 from spain to squash us comes along; which howard, frobisher and drake and stormy weather overtake. [illustration: globe theatre tonyghte ye tragedye offe hamlette by william shakspere. iron jelloids the great tonic] shakespeare and in these epoch making days 1564-1616 shakespeare wrote and staged his plays; weaving a thread whose magic strands entwine all english-speaking lands. fifteen-eight-seven scots' queen mary lost her head through fate contrary. when henry eight had robbed the church 'twas found the poor were in the lurch; poor law a law was passed about this date to place the poor upon the rate. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] sir walter sir walter raleigh, best of knights, raleigh the first to taste the keen delights 1552-1618 of the enchantress so serene, the ryghte goode ladye nicotine. no information's yet to hand concerning raleigh's favourite brand; tobacco was it coarse-cut shag which burns the tongue, or birdseye or returns? [illustration] queen good queen bess we understand elizabeth had crowds of suitors for her hand; and here we beg to give a view of suitors waiting in a queue. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] queen as time rolled on this good queen bess elizabeth lost somewhat of her sprightliness; (continued) she got into a nervous state was mopish and disconsolate. now, as everyone will own, had 'iron jelloids' been but known in bess's time; why, it's conceded 'twas just the tonic that she needed. east india the great 'john comp'ny' now began company its fine career without a plan. 1600 great! the elizabethan age. in history's book a glorious page. [illustration] somewhere or other we've heard snuff came in the days of frill and ruff; and here's a noble ill at ease giving the first recorded sneeze. james i. james six of scotland, miscalled a 'fule' 1603-1625 as james one of england comes to rule. gramercy! 'tis a canny thing to be a 'double-barrelled' king. the son of mary queen of scots of learning he had lots and lots, writing sundry ponderous books 'gainst 'bacca, witches and their spooks. james thought his kingly power divine and, loathing puritanic 'whine,' he vowed to make them all comply or else he'd 'know the reason why.' pilgrim fathers his persecution to escape 1620 some zealots in the 'mayflower' shape their course for an uncharted world where freedom's flag could be unfurled. these 'pilgrim fathers' found a state 'new england,' blessed with happy fate. folks have called the first king james most uncomplimentary names; to wit 'a sloven' and 'a glutton'; perhaps his weakness was scotch mutton. and as to gluttony, 'gadzooks'! if what we read in history books is true, they all were trenchermen; there were no diet faddists then. it startles us, one must declare, to read their breakfast bill of fare; all 'kynes' of ale, some highly spiced and divers meats, roast, boiled and sliced. in james' reign a man could get for money down a coronet and titles with the greatest ease like folks to-day buy soap and cheese. harvey yet a learned time; for harvey shows that blood's not stagnant, but it flows; lord bacon 'experiment!' lord bacon cries 'there is no progress otherwise.' [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic model of the notorious guy fawkes which however is not considered historically accurate] 5th november of troubles james had quite a lot, 1605 for instance the gunpowder plot. it fizzled out but left to-day a liking for firework display. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic the first cracker] so rockets with their sweeping curves, crackers which upset the nerves and squibs with their infernal din to this date owe their origin. charles i. his son charles one we understand 1625-1649 ruled england with a grasping hand; for he was never loth to levy taxes burdensome and heavy. he moved in an expensive set, was always heavily in debt; in fact this monarch with his frills was snowed up to the neck with bills. he was courtly, graceful, distingué, and when the scaffold came his way 'he nothing common did or mean upon that memorable scene.' he had a very taking way and made his taxed up subjects pay; and over taxing it is said this monarch fairly lost his head. petition of the 'petition of right' a famous act, right--1628 the commons from the king exact; giving the subject on his own a remedy against the throne. first in sixteen-hundred-twenty-one newspaper our first news-sheet began its run; 1621 for twenty years 'twas going strong then the first censor came along. this journal cribbing from the dutch lacked the smart journalistic touch; and also photographic views, 'sporting pars' and 'stop-press news.' [illustration: the great struggle in charles' time. king trying to get money from taxpayer. creditor trying to get money from king] [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _that quiet man, known as the early puritan._] cotton cotton first came from india's shore 1630 in sixteen-thirty, less or more; where for three thousand years it grew, also in egypt and peru. grim reading is the note confessing gangs went out for navy pressing, forcing many a timid knave to spend his life on ocean wave. ship money charles raises the ship money tax; 1636 he thought he only had to 'ax'; when hampden strenuously objected, the king was very much affected. strafford earl strafford ('thorough') in his pride 1641 'the king shall rule the commons' cried; the commons would not brook such stuff and cut his head off. 'quantum suff.' the 'grand remonstrance' is put forth by the commons who are wrath with the king's despotic ways quite unsuited to these days. the king tries hard to put in jail five members but without avail; hollis, strode, haslerig and pym and hampden (we must mention him); they're guarded from the royal hands by watermen and city bands. the 'die is cast' and civil war for seven long years the nation tore. civil wars cromwell greatest of the foemen 1642-1648 with his faithful english yeomen; these 'roundheads' sober, grim, religious to 'cavaliers' gave blows prodigious. their character's seen in the cry 'trust god and keep your powder dry.' naseby the cavaliers and roundheads fought 1645 in many a field, 'till naseby brought to generals cromwell and fairfax a crowning victory, though not 'pax.' the king's beheaded, but the state experiences no headless fate; a commonwealth's forthwith proclaimed and cromwell's soon protector named. dunbar in sixteen-fifty dunbar sees 1650 the royal scots brought to their knees; worcester and in the second worcester fight 1651 cromwell for good asserts his might. and there are those who love to tell about that day at boscobel when charles the second's majestye found itself doubly 'up a tree.' and now we meet that quiet man known as the early puritan; mild and placid in his talk, calm and measured in his walk. [illustration: "paint me warts and all" iron jelloids the great tonic] commonwealth oliver cromwell bluff and bold, 1649-1660 was cast in nature's sternest mould, lacking maybe the courtly grace and proud of warts upon his face. he fought the irish and the scotch and with his navy beat the dutch let all his faults condonéd be, he kept us up on land and sea. [illustration: "take away that bauble" iron jelloids the great tonic] commonwealth he seemed to like bold argument (continued) and wordy wars with parliament; he made things lively we infer frequently at westminster. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] with m.p.s he had many a bout and one day cleared the whole lot out; locked the door and took the key; those not the days of 'wait and see.' charles ii. cromwell's death brings restoration 1660-1685 and charles two lands 'mid acclamation. after his leaps from twig to twig he now has 'otium cum dig.' in merry charles the second's age woman first acted on the stage; the king encouraged much this vogue he was a pleasure seeking rogue. 'he never said a foolish thing, nor did a wise one'; this the king countered with 'my words my own my acts my ministers' alone'; 1662 in sixteen-six-two year of grace, charles taxed every fire-place; and citizens who couldn't pay shivered and grumbled as to-day. these were the times of musketeers and proud and dashing cavaliers; when words were few and tempers hot and duels fought out on the spot. john bunyan the tinker preacher bunyan wrote the 'pilgrim's progress' we still quote, the prison bars no barrier wrought to lowly bunyan's lofty thought. milton in stately language milton's muse 1678 the bible story doth diffuse; from 'paradise lost' we get our view of adam and eve and satan too. the reverend titus oates, a scamp, egregious popish plots did vamp, lied roundly for dishonest gains, got cat-o'-nine-tails for his pains. habeas corpus the 'habeas corpus' best of laws 1679 shields us from prison without cause; 'twas passed in sixteen-seventy-nine, and means 'produce him here,' in fine. van tromp admiral van tromp, dutchman bold, with broom at masthead, so 'tis told, the channel sailed, suggesting he's swept all the english from the seas. blake but blake laughed loud and spread his sails nought the dutchman now avails; for he got an awful shocker right to davy jones' locker. but though the dutch failed to invade, they were not disinclined to trade; so we get 'hollands,' cheese and hams fresh from the land of dykes and dams. peace of breda for fifteen years these navies fought, 1667 'till sixteen-six-seven respite brought; the peace of breda then succeeded; new york to england was conceded. plague in sixty-five the plague appears fire of london and then the fire; two awful years 1665-1666 for london--and if more you'd know consult the pages of defoe. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _queen anne and the duke of marlborough._] james ii. when charles two died his brother james 1685-1688 soon put the country into flames; papistry he would advance, and for that purpose leagued with france. in sixteen-eight-eight his bigot zeal religious test act would repeal; seven bold bishops who defied to the tower were sent and tried. the country raised a hue and cry so off to france the king doth fly. william iii. his place is filled by william three 1689-1702 his son-in-law from dutch countree. this orange sprig most brave of men with mary reigns and all things then went well with us. macaulay's page hails him as hero of the age. in this reign of william three, laws were harsh 'gainst burglary; for they'd a very drastic way and hanged the 'bill sykes' of that day. national debt in sixteen-nine-four we have heard 1694 the national debt was first incurred; to careful folk who would invest 'twas not devoid of interest. another national debt we owe to iron jelloids which the foe depression's worries keep at bay and drive our nervous fears away. bill of rights the 'bill of rights,' a charter grand, 1689 in sixteen-eight-nine frees this land from all encroachments of the crown hoi polloi are no longer down. queen anne good queen anne we know is dead; 1702-1714 she reigned twelve years but it is said 'mrs. morley,' marlborough's wife ruled her more than half her life. marlborough this was the duke of marlborough's day, who beat the french in every fray; known for his famous victories at blenheim and at ramillies. in seventeen-seven by statute passed english and scotch unite at last; 'one coinage and one parliament' both nations ever since content. about this time, so runs the story, much is heard of 'whig and tory'; and shortly after there was rife many a sign of party strife. dr. watts good dr. watts' moral lays 1674-1748 were much reputed in these days; and still we lisp at mother's knee 'how doth the little busy bee.' pope pope, letter-writer and great poet, 1688-1744 most quotable of all (ye know it), at twickenham penned his caustic verse epigrammatic, smooth and terse. george i. the house of stuart being ended, 1714-1727 george of hanover (descended from daughter of king jamie one) comes over to ascend our throne. of english george knew not a word, most awkward, not to say absurd, at cabinet councils to preside; so from this time the practice died. george ii. his son george two succeeding then 1727-1760 in person fought at dettingen. both these kings had various fights in scotland with the jacobites. william tull brings in post chaises; now the people ride like 'blazes.'; many can't for they're in trouble, ruined by the south sea bubble. wesleys john and charles wesley, men of mind, 1703-1791 revive religion in mankind. founding a church both broad and low, one-seven-three-nought a. domini. beginning as an office clerk, clive as soldier clive soon made his mark, 1746 and conquered india for this nation; self 'stounded at his moderation. bridgwater, gilbert, brindley, three great engineers this centurie, canals useful canals in england made, the flowing arteries of trade. quebec general wolfe seventeen-five-nine 1759 captures quebec--a victory fine, and canada's the splendid prize for old 'john bull' to colonise. george iii. and now of georgey number three: 1760-1820 ut mulus obstinatus he had full sixty years of reign and a big family to train. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _georgian times._] georgian we will but very lightly scan times the customs known as 'georgian'; the times of powdered belles and beaux; patches, paint and furbelows; of beauteous maids and gallants gay and merry routs at ranelagh; gaming parties, cards or pool and 'fops' of the beau brummel school. [illustration: "odds faith they say there's iron in it" iron jelloids the great tonic] when rank and fashion history tells all took their cures among the wells; and sipped in manner hesitating daily doses nauseating. but we know better how to act our cures we purchase more compact for in the chemists' you can see 'iron jelloids' priced at 'one and three.' lord 'periwig' and gay 'fallal' in sedan chairs frequent the mall. 'taxis' and 'tubes' we beg to state came in at a much later date. when brummel, the historic beau, made laws for dress and outward show; whose vests were poems, whose coats were dreams of gorgeous beauty, so it seems; who figured in the public gaze a 'star turn' with his courtly ways; who fixed the style of a cravat, lord of appeal anent a hat. and my lord chesterfield was quite the model of the most polite wrote famous letters. it's a shame, a settee has usurped his name. dr. johnson and dr. johnson at his ease 1709-1784 sipped his tea at the 'cheshire cheese,' or at the 'mitre' of renown, spreading his wit throughout the town. garrick when garrick as the 'moody dane' drew the town to drury lane, mrs. siddons sarah siddons was all the rage tragedy queen of every age. highwaymen arméd to the teeth waited for prey on hounslow heath; per contra the highwayman's pate was oft strung up at tyburn gate. capt. cook it's only right a history book 1728-1779 should mark the feats of captain cook; so jot it down in these our rhymes that round the world he sailed three times. inventions these are the days of much invention 1767 the 'spinning jenny' we will mention; the 'cotton mule' and 'power loom'; for authors' names there's lack of room. adam smith in his book 'the wealth of nations' 1766 adam smith shows the relations governing the art of trading; with influences far pervading. 'man buys as cheaply as he can and sells as dearly, that's his plan.' 'supply demand each other feed dearer markets cheap ones bleed.' jenner jenner brings in vaccination, 1796 boon to every generation; by similar methods now devised many an ill is exorcised. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _nelson and wellington._] american war in seventeen-sixty and fifteen 1775 our taxes raise the yankees' spleen. 'unrepresented, you've no right to tax us, therefore we will fight.' washington, franklin and the rest formed a republic quite the best; we've long been friends. let us rejoice; but at the time we had no choice. french in france in times of louis seize (says) revolution oppression dire through countless days roused revolution with its tears mainly through books with wrong ideas. napoleon i. from revolution's putrid mess 1793-1815 a conqueror's born, quite conscienceless, millions of men and women died victims to napoleon's pride. he plunged all europe into wars his own ambition the sole cause. england as usual did her 'bit' and 'boney' europe had to quit. during these years of storm and stress two noble pilots we possess 'chatham and son' (pitt is their name), illustrious on the scroll of fame. nelson 1805 here we must our homage pay to nelson of trafalgar day; wellington to wellington the same is due, who crowned his fame at waterloo. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] and 'shiver my timbers,' 'heave ahoy,' the tar, those times a breezy boy with shiny hat and pigtail long and love for lass and glass and song. discovery of about this date electric force electric force dawns on mankind. before, of course, in lightning it was all about, with noise enough to be found out. coelo eripuit fulmen, 'twas said of franklin, as ye ken. philosopher of bygone age accept our homage on this page. but who'd have thought it that galvani when making soup, (this is no blarney) by his power of observation on a frog's legs' oscillation should find how by chemic ways electric currents we can raise? to call him 'great' is no flattery; he set us on the wondrous battery. this simple little frog, heigh ho! the frog who would a-wooing go; thy part in electricity is unmatched eccentricity. this new discovered fact, of course, leads to the telegraph of morse, the motor and electric light the telephone and more in sight. [illustration: _in queen victoria's palmy days._] ireland of ireland but a word or two. celts were her people and they knew not benefit of roman ruling; young europa's infant schooling. in century five st. patrick great converts them to the christian state; and from this western isle afar, english and scotch converted are. danes and two hundred years from nine-nought-nought ireland danes raiding erin trouble brought; and left them in chaotic state no longer masters of their fate. in those days 'twas 'woe to the weak,' saxons and danes had made us squeak, then came the normans in great force and civilised us in due course. they tried the same with ireland green; but only sowed a feud between the land they'd conquered and erin, leading to endless quarrelling. england accepts the reformation, catholic still the irish nation cromwell sees cromwell with them battle join boyne and william beat them at the boyne. william pitt in eighteen-nought-nought ireland and england's welfare sought act of union by 'act of union' which he passed; 1800 but still the wretched squabbles last. george iv. now come george four and will his brother; william iv. with these two kings we need not bother; the first a gourmand, bon viveur, the next a sailor, bluff, sans peur. trevithick, newcomen, and watt are names will never be forgot; for their crude engines were the source of man's control of steam's wild force. steam by eighteen-thirty man has tamed 1830 steam to his use; and widely famed was puffing 'rocket' with the power of doing thirty miles an hour. steam prompts man to make machines and factories rise with all that means; divided more and more is labour each man leans more on his neighbour. for twenty million pounds the nation buys our slaves' emancipation. reform act in eighteen-three-two, happy year, the great reform act doth appear. steam vessels the atlantic cross. the penny post comes into force. and double knocks bring joys and thrills sometimes cheques, more often bills. corn law the corn law duty's brushed away, repeal 18 hence we enjoy cheap bread to-day. we fain would linger, but alas, these are the periods we must pass. so gentle reader do not grin at sight of cumbrous crinoline. victoria since queen victoria's palmy days 1837-1901 woman has altered all her ways. in those days she was meek and mild and treated almost like a child; was brought up in a narrow zone; and couldn't call her soul her own. she vegetated, 'tis well known under the 'cloche' of chaperone. woman's but now the 'franchise' she obtains, status and her own property retains. what a difference from then, she 'carries on' just like the men. and now at westminster we see a lady sitting as m.p. darwin charles darwin offers us a key 1809-1882 to help unlock the mystery of evolution's wondrous span from protoplasm up to man. livingstone the traveller, great scotch livingstone, 1813-1873 wandered o'er afric's trackless zone; where no white man had ever trod teaching the blacks the word of god. crimean war english, french and turks unite 'gainst russia in crimean fight. indian mutiny the indian mutiny now arose, 'fat' was the cause that led to blows. atlantic cable with efforts many men most able lay the great atlantic cable. suez canal lesseps unites for you and me the medit'ranean and red sea. education act the education act proposes to make us all as wise as moses; in eighteen-seven-nought it passed, but each is learning to the last. ballot act a couple of years from this we note 1872 the ballot act gives secret vote; before this act, e'en since we fear, folks sold their votes for draughts of beer. [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic _women took to spade and hoe._] edward vii. edward seven, 'peacemaker' named, 1901-1910 his efforts to this end far famed. we know it was no idle chance his 'entente cordiale' with france. true friendship and the peace we want the outcome of this grand entente. though not accented in our rhyme we've been fighting all the time; and it's a fact which must be stated our chief opponent (so 'twas fated) wars with our nearest neighbour o'er the sea france whose 'no' is 'non'; whose 'yes' is 'oui'; like two schoolboys always sparring eight hundred years together warring; from hastings unto waterloo we'd battles with the brave 'mossoo.' now honi soit qui still y pense; hurrah for england! vive la france! and here we come to end our rhymes we've reached the present stirring times, when one and all lent helping hand to keep secure the motherland. when men went forth to fight the foe and women took to spade and hoe, and donning smocks of nattiest styles, worked on the land for farmer giles. now three cheers for the dainty maids, government clerks of different grades; [illustration] nor are we likely to forget our debt to the munitionette. the we seem to have subdued the hun present time and so farewell (our task is done) to anzacs-indians-poilus-yanks- italians-belgians-japs-and-tanks. [illustration] concerning men and tonics _by the late dr. andrew wilson._ _"many a man feels so thoroughly out of sorts, and thinks himself so dreadfully ill, that he is rather surprised when the doctor tells him there is not really anything seriously the matter with him at all; that he just needs a tonic, and should put the brake on as regards work, worry, or late hours._ _"it is this 'run-down-ness,' 'out-of-sorts-ness,' 'below-par-ness,' which lead to all kinds of fanciful fears, such as having brain fag, neurasthenia, and other conditions startling by name at least._ _"now i have found the form of iron jelloids put up with quinine (called iron jelloids no. 2a), to be an excellent tonic in all such cases. when a man or youth feels out-of-sorts, and is not so ill as to require medical advice, he cannot do better than try a fortnight's treatment of iron jelloids no. 2a, as a suitable and effective remedy._ _for debility, weakness and nerviness, men find the ideal tonic and restorative in iron jelloids no. 2a._ _for anæmia in men and women (shown by breathlessness on slight exertion, pallor, depression and weakness) doctors have for many years prescribed the well-known iron jelloids no. 2.--there is nothing better._ _a ten days treatment (price 1/3) will convince you._ _mr. j. r. pennington, chemist, late of worksop, writes:--"i always handle iron jelloids with pleasure as my customers are invariably satisfied with them."_ [illustration: iron 'jelloids' (_pronounced jell-lloyds._)] reliable tonic for men iron jelloids no. 2a. for anæmia in men & women iron jelloids no. 2. for growing children iron jelloids no. 1. _of all chemists. a ten days treatment 1/3. large size 3/-_ _manufactured by the iron jelloid co., ltd., 189, central street, london, e.c.1. england._ [illustration: iron jelloids the great tonic] +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | transcriber's note | | | | details of minor typographical corrections and retained | | mis-spellings are provided in the source of the associated | | html version. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ new novels 6/ the question by parry truscott author of "catherine" the wicked world by alice maud meadows author of "the dukedom of portsea" john marvel by thomas nelson page author of "red rock" by mary gaunt the uncounted cost part author of "the silent ones" by halliwell sutcliffe a winter's comedy a tale of yorkshire by victoria cross the eternal fires contains portrait of author in colours by shan f. bullock master john author of "robert thorne" by stanley portal hyatt black sheep author of "the marriage of hilary carden" _biography_ _for_ _beginners_ [illustration] fine editions of this book are also issued at 2/6 net and 6/net biography for beginners being a collection of miscellaneous examples for the use of upper forms edited by e. clerihew, b.a. with 40 diagrams by g. k. chesterton london t. werner laurie clifford's inn list of contents introductory remarks sir christopher wren miguel de cervantes george bernard shaw sir humphrey davy j. s. mill françois liszt lord clive king edward the confessor the rev. john clifford, m.a., ll.b., d.d. messrs chapman & hall karl marx otto the great marconi david hume mr h. belloc job pizarro the duke of fife, k.t., p.c., g.c.v.o. the duke of wellington john bunyan george hirst erasmus and the humanists besant and rice tiziano vecelli professor james dewar, f.r.s. sir walter raleigh jane austen odo of bayeux david ricardo sir thomas à mallory mr alfred beit cimabue president roosevelt robert harley, earl of oxford sir alexander fuller acland-hood, m.p. mahomet edvard grieg jan van eyck mr t. werner laurie index of psychology introductory remarks the art of biography is different from geography. geography is about maps, but biography is about chaps. [illustration] sir christopher wren sir christopher wren said, "i am going to dine with some men. "if anybody calls "say i am designing st. paul's." [illustration] miguel de cervantes the people of spain think cervantes equal to half-a-dozen dantes: an opinion resented most bitterly by the people of italy. [illustration] george bernard shaw mr bernard shaw was just setting out for the war, when he heard it was a dangerous trade and demonstrably underpaid. [illustration] sir humphrey davy sir humphrey davy abominated gravy. he lived in the odium of having discovered sodium. [illustration] j. s. mill john stuart mill, by a mighty effort of will, overcame his natural bonhomie and wrote "principles of political economy." [illustration] françois liszt the abbé liszt hit the piano with his fist. that was the way he used to play. [illustration] lord clive what i like about clive is that he is no longer alive. there is a great deal to be said for being dead. [illustration] king edward the confessor edward the confessor slept under the dresser. when that began to pall, he slept in the hall. [illustration] the rev. john clifford m.a., ll.b., d.d. dr clifford and i have differed. he disapproves of gin: i disapprove of sin. [illustration] messrs chapman & hall chapman & hall swore not at all. mr chapman's yea was yea, and mr hall's nay was nay. [illustration] karl marx karl marx was completely wrapped up in his sharks. the poor creatures seriously missed him while he was attacking the capitalist system. [illustration] otto the great the great emperor otto could not decide upon a motto. his mind wavered between "l'etat c'est moi" and "ich dien." [illustration] marconi guglielmo marconi was brought up on macaroni, but when he gets it now there's no end of a row. [illustration] david hume that you have all heard of hume i tacitly assume; but you didn't know, perhaps, that his parents were lapps. [illustration] mr h. belloc mr hilaire belloc is a case for legislation ad hoc. he seems to think nobody minds his books being all of different kinds. [illustration] job it is understood that job never read "the globe;" but nothing could be higher than his opinion of leviathan. [illustration] pizarro the views of pizarro were perhaps a little narrow. he killed the caciques because (he said) they were sneaks. [illustration] the duke of fife k.t., p.c., g.c.v.o. it looked bad when the duke of fife left off using a knife; but people began to talk when he left off using a fork. [illustration] the duke of wellington the great duke of wellington reduced himself to a skellington. he reached seven stone two, and then----waterloo! [illustration] john bunyan i do not extenuate bunyan's intemperate use of onions, but if i knew a wicked ogress i would lend her "the pilgrim's progress." [illustration] george hirst when i faced the bowling of hirst i ejaculated, "do your worst!" he said, "right you are, sid." ----and he did. [illustration] erasmus and the humanists after dinner, erasmus told colet not to be "blas'mous" which colet, with some heat, requested him to repeat. [illustration] besant and rice sir (then mr) walter besant would never touch pheasant, but mr james rice thought it so nice. [illustration] tiziano vecelli when the great titian was in a critical condition, he was carefully nursed by francis the first. [illustration] professor james dewar, f.r.s. professor dewar is a better man than you are. none of you asses can condense gases. [illustration] sir walter raleigh sir walter raleigh bickered down the valley. but he could do better than the rill, for he could bicker up-hill. [illustration] jane austen the novels of jane austen are the ones to get lost in. * * * * * i wonder if labby has read "northanger abbey?" [illustration] odo of bayeux archbishop odo was just in the middle of "dodo," when he remembered that it was sunday. "sic transit gloria mundi." [illustration] david ricardo the intrepid ricardo with characteristic bravado, alluded openly to rent wherever he went. [illustration] sir thomas à mallory sir thomas à mallory always went to the gallery. he said, not without nous, that it was the best place in the house. [illustration] mr alfred beit mr alfred beit screamed suddenly in the night. when they asked him why he made no reply. [illustration] cimabue when they told cimabue he didn't know how to cooee, he replied, "perhaps i mayn't, but i do know how to paint." [illustration] president roosevelt if only mr roosevelt knew how officers in the blues felt, he wouldn't be so rife with his strenuous life. [illustration] robert harley, earl of oxford people wondered why harley sang "wae's me for prince charlie." "it is childish," they said, "to mourn for a person not yet born." [illustration] sir alexander fuller acland-hood, m.p. sir alexander acland-hood believed in free food: but he was eleusinian about this opinion. [illustration] mahomet i am not mahomet. ----far from it. that is the mistake all of you seem to make. [illustration] edvard grieg the musician grieg joined the primrose league. it gave him the idea of his chorus, "the unburied ichthyosaurus." [illustration] jan van eyck the younger van eyck was christened jan, and not mike. the thought of this curious mistake often kept him awake. [illustration] mr t. werner laurie mr werner laurie is not at all sorry he undertook the publication of this instructive compilation. [illustration] index of psychology. (_in all work of a biographic character it is important to make copious reference to as many as possible of the generally-recognised virtues, vices, good points, foibles, peculiarities, tricks, characteristics, little weaknesses, traits, imperfections, fads, idiosyncrasies, singularities, morbid symptoms, oddities, faults, and regrettable propensities set forth in the following table. the form of an alphabetic index, with references to the examples given in the preceding pages, has been chosen, so that the beginner who may be desirous, when trying his hand at work of this sort, of seeing how any given one of these subjects may best be treated, is enabled at once to turn to one or more model passages._) abominable deceit (wren). agitation, reluctance to explain (beit). allah, prophet of, refusal to admit identity with (mahomet). appearances, disregard of, by man of position (mallory). artistic temperament, the: its acute sensitiveness (van eyck); love of violent action (liszt); deliberate eccentricity (fife); naïf self-appreciation (cimabue); irresistibly attracted by the sublime (grieg); high value set upon it by frenchmen (tiziano). bankruptcy, moral (wren). blindness to obvious tendency of public opinion (belloc). cobdenism, qualified adherence to, hesitation to avow (acland-hood). conduct, disingenuous (wren). contentions and disagreements, love of (erasmus, besant and rice, clifford, raleigh). diet, morbid delicacy in matter of (davy, besant, marconi, but _cf._ bunyan). domestic servants, encouragement of dishonesty among (wren). efficiency (dewar, cimabue, hirst, liszt). escutcheon, blot on, action involving (wren). excisable commodity, unsympathetic attitude towards (clifford). fact, cynical perversion of (wren). frigidity of style, sometimes attributable to præ-natal influences (hume). funereal thoughts, predisposition to (harley). generalisations, sweeping, dangerous fondness for (pizarro). guile (wren). habits, repugnant personal, often found in association with fine spiritual gifts (bunyan). horizon, restricted mental (pizarro). hour of trial, fortitude in (acland-hood). hubbub, interminable, power to raise (marconi). hypocrisy, calculated (wren). ignoring, pointed, of literary rivals (job). information, insufficient, proneness to act upon (shaw, roosevelt). insomnia, liability to (van eyck, beit). integrity, low standard of (wren). jesuitical dealing (wren). justification, flimsy, of homicide (pizarro). kindness to animals (job, marx). knavery (wren). labouchere, mr, power to awaken interest in (austen). levity, irresponsible, of yorkshiremen (hirst). lie, bouncing, circulation of (wren). low company, penchant for (mallory). macchiavelli, unholy precepts of, tendency to act upon (wren). memory, lapse of (odo). mind, contented, blessing of a (mallory). nervous prostration, freedom from (laurie). "_noblesse oblige_," disregard of apothegm (wren). obesity, effective treatment of (wellington). openness, want of (wren). ordinary man, treatment of genius at hands of (davy, harley). oriental metaphor, distaste for (chapman and hall). ostentation, contempt for (mallory). output, delusions in regard to reception of literary (belloc). percussion, instrument of, habit of treating pianoforte as (liszt). principle, absence of (wren). ---self-sacrificing devotion to (chapman & hall). prompt and decisive action, unfitness for position requiring (otto). psychology, complex and baffling, of contemporary genius (marconi). quickening, need of spiritual (wren). repartée, witty and pungent, gift of (hirst, cimabue). resemblance, confusing physical, sometimes noted among higher types of genius (mahomet). restoration, lax morality of, readiness to fall in with (wren). salvation army, sympathy with methods of (liszt). satanism, revolting display of (wren). self-effacement, public-spirited (clive). sense of proportion, lack of (pizarro). simple life, fondness for the (edward the confessor, mallory). statesmanship, qualities of: anticipation of coming problems (harley); readiness to sink own prejudices in interest of common weal (acland-hood); freedom from insomnia (edward the confessor). taboos, faithful observance of (odo). taciturnity of the strong, silent man (beit). tartufe, willingness to regard, as moral examplar (wren). treasury, parliamentary secretary to the, anxiety to remain (acland-hood). ugly, indifference to appearing (wellington). umbrage, quickness to take (erasmus). untruth, plausible, ability to frame (wren). utilitarianism, susceptibility to charms of (mill). utopian conditions, ill-judged efforts to realise (pizarro). valhalla, precipitate eagerness to qualify for (shaw). vaticanism, display of blighting effects of, upon human mind (liszt, pizarro). veracity, departure from (wren). watchword, insistence upon ill-chosen (roosevelt). world, the next, neglect of prospects in (wren). years, early, forgetfulness of habits inculcated in (marconi). y.m.c.a., unfitness for (wren). zealous pursuit of pleasure at expense of soul (wren). zenith of literary achievement, attainment of (austen). zulus, gradual adoption of social practices of (fife). printed by a. m. cowan & co., ltd. st john's hall, perth, n.b. transcriber's notes obvious punctuation errors repaired. page 1 author of the "dukedom of portsea" has been replaced with author of "the dukedom of portsea" in the "list of contents", "jane austin" has been replaced with "jane austen". m.p.'s in session. [illustration] from mr. punch's parliamentary portrait gallery. by harry furniss. [illustration] familiar faces. mr. punch (_cartoonist in chief_). "oh, i know all you old models, i want some new 'character'!" _frontispiece._ [illustration] m.p.'s in session from mr. punch's parliamentary portrait gallery my own work harry furniss london: bradbury agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, e.c. 1889. printed by "mr. punch" at [illustration] the printing offices of bradbury, agnew, & co., whitefriars, e.c. m.p.'s in session. _from mr. punch's parliamentary portrait gallery._ [illustration] w. v. harcourt. the speaker. c. n. warton. w. e. forster. r. a. cross. j. g. dodson. h. gladstone. h. labouchere. r. n. fowler. thorold rogers. the chaplain. w. lawson. c. dilke. h. broadhurst. h. lennox. serjeant-at-arms. a. bartlett. j. chamberlain. e. gibson. r. churchill. h. d. wolff. commons summoned to upper house. [illustration: the chaplain. (hon. and rev. f. e. c. byng.) "commons prayers."] [illustration: rt. hon. a. w. peel. the speaker. "order!"] [illustration: assistant serjeant-at-arms. (f. r. gosset.) "au revoir!"] [illustration: leonard h. courtney. deputy speaker. "estimates."] [illustration: lord claud hamilton. "late of liverpool."] [illustration: a. akers-douglas. "an unbroken front."] [illustration: c. bradlaugh. "house of commons' manner."] [illustration: alex. h. brown. "a brown study."] [illustration: j. chamberlain and j. morley. "the rival umbrella."] [illustration: rt. hon. j. h. macdonald. absent from the post of danger.] [illustration: a. j. balfour. in his place at 4·30 a.m., tuesday, march 22, 1887.] [illustration: the g. o. m. "writing to the queen, and committing the 'happy dispatch.'"] [illustration: ashmead-bartlett. extinction of eye. effect of proposed scheme of redistribution on ashmead-bartlett.] [illustration: lord hartington's attitude towards mr. gladstone.] [illustration: mr. bright. "i cannot turn my back on myself." of course he has tried to do so, and this shows him in the act of making the unsuccessful contortionist attempt.] [illustration: j. lowther. sir r. peel. lord h. lennox. sir e. clarke. the new fourth party. imitation is the sincerest flattery.] [illustration: h. chaplin and "the agricultural labourer."] [illustration: baron de worms. col. walrond. akers-douglas. record of the session 1887.--422. "dead heat."] [illustration: sir stafford northcote. "remote, unfriended, _solitary_, slow,"--or, little "tom all-alone" in the lobby.] [illustration: d. h. macfarlane. "the sailing-master."] [illustration: lord r. churchill. the new president of the working-man's conservative association--"a horny-handed son of toil."] [illustration: colonel fras. duncan, c.b. "duncan comes here to-night, the gracious duncan!" _macbeth._] [illustration: lord h. lennox. "most important!" he was with lord salisbury for quite three minutes, and then left.] [illustration: bradlaugh and the beetle. "fetch it up, old hoss!"] [illustration: sir w. v. harcourt. "mr. pecksniff." "lord randolph churchill"--(_groans and hisses_)--"'do not let us groan at our opponents.' nay, my christian brethren, do not let us groan or hiss at our opponents. we can find other ways of dealing with them."--_speech at st. james's hall._] [illustration: sir r. a. cross. "very cross."] [illustration: lord r. churchill. sir j. e. gorst. sir h. d. wolff. "one of us." first appearance of sir j. e. gorst as solicitor-general.] [illustration: r. f. f. campbell. "heavy campbeller with big 'stake in the country.'"] [illustration: p. callan and g. cavendish-bentinck. "muddled moralists."] [illustration: hon. r. bourke. "bourke and hair."] [illustration: c. t. ritchie. de worms. w. h. smith. r. churchill. r. a. cross. hicks-beach. h. chaplin. j. manners. g. hamilton. new men and old attitudes. principals of the new conservative comedy company trying to look as much as possible like the old public favourites.] [illustration: getting gladstone's collar up.] [illustration: c. b. stuart-wortley. "please, sir, i did."] [illustration: sir u. j. k. shuttleworth. "the mildest-mannered man."] [illustration: c. s. parker. "if a man touches pitch, &c."] [illustration: j. p. b. robertson. "ireland again!"] [illustration: h. matthews. "sat smiling."] [illustration: j. gilhooly. "toodjour perdricks."] [illustration: marquis of hartington. "startington."] [illustration: sir c. forster and sir r. a. cross. sir richard (very) cross. off with his hat!... so much for----!] [illustration: lord r. churchill. "a gloomy view of the political situation."] [illustration: lord r. churchill and sir h. drummond wolff. "rapturous delight of the fourth party."] [illustration: j. t. hibbert. "it's very strange."] [illustration: w. agnew. "rapt attention."] [illustration: a. orr-ewing. (orr-anythingelse.)] [illustration: a. illingworth. "waiting for opportunity."] [illustration: sir r. temple. "the sleeping beauty."] [illustration: lord r. churchill. "randolph meditating."] [illustration: f. h. o'donnell. suspended for a week by order of the speaker.] [illustration: christopher sykes, m.p. "who passed the crab and lobster bill."] [illustration: e. gibb. "the eccleston gibb-us makes its presence felt."] [illustration: r. davies. "a lively contest."] [illustration: h. h. cozens-hardy. "our hardy cousin."] [illustration: t. h. bolton. "the member for extraordinary ties--no--tithes."] [illustration: j. b. balfour. "never heard of such a thing!"] [illustration: sir matthew wilson. "posting his farewell address."] [illustration: colonel tottenham. ["irish members, this style, 8s. 6d. extra."]] [illustration: leonard h. courtney. "courteous courtney of cornwall."] [illustration: lord r. churchill. "not the shadow of a leg to stand upon."] [illustration: sir r. a. cross. "sir richard 'receives.'"] [illustration: gladstone badgered. "here joseph gillis was in his element."] [illustration: hon. c. r. spencer. "have you paired?"] [illustration: r. w. duff. "wonder if he's paired."] [illustration: mitchell henry. "where is my working hat?"] [illustration: l. l. dillwyn. "woe is me!"] [illustration: j. h. a. macdonald. "ain't i like harcourt?"] [illustration: g. j. goschen. j. chamberlain. sir h. james. sir g. o. trevelyan. marquis of hartington. a back seat.] [illustration: t. healy. here's timothy healy, who spoke too freely.] [illustration: e. j. m. p. de lisle. here's mr. de lisle, who "didn't even smile." (_fancy portrait_.)] [illustration: bill 'arcutt. sir w. vernon harcourt.--"i am in entire sympathy with the costermongers."] [illustration: w. h. smith. "the o'smith. big with fate. the start."] [illustration: the ferocious forester. "penny plain, twopence coloured." [lord randolph churchill was initiated into the mysteries of the ancient order of foresters.]] [illustration: r. chamberlain. j. chamberlain. "chamberlain bros."] the royal westminster academy. [illustration: w. e. g., painted by ld. r. churchill.] [illustration: lord r. churchill, by w. e. g.] [illustration: lord hartington, by sir s. northcote.] [illustration: sir s. northcote, by ld. hartington.] [illustration: sir w. v. harcourt, by sir r. a. cross.] [illustration: sir r. a. cross, by sir w. v. harcourt.] [illustration: j. chamberlain, by j. lowther.] [illustration: j. lowther, by j. chamberlain.] [illustration: the speaker, by himself.] [illustration: the serjeant-at-arms, by himself.] [illustration: w. e. forster, by c. s. parnell.] [illustration: c. s. parnell, by w. e. forster.] [illustration: j. c. mccoan, by j. j. o'killy.] [illustration: j. j. o'killy, by j. c. mccoan.] (_splendid collection of parliamentary portraits, mostly done by "the other fellows." the speaking likenesses speak for themselves and for the artists._) [illustration: lord a. w. hill. "such larks!"] [illustration: the student. lord randolph churchill is delighted at being out of office, as he will now have leisure to study.] [illustration: gen. fraser. "of the cavalry. a light weight."] [illustration: george cavendish-bentinck. "who was moketto?"] [illustration: h. labouchere. w. v. harcourt. w. e. gladstone. labby and "the merry old gentleman." "quips and cranks."] [illustration: j. stansfeld. "local government."] [illustration: d. j. jenkins. "the resolute appearance of the coat-tail."] [illustration: w. h. k. redmond. brutus roscius kean r-dm-nd, jun. "yah! yah!"] [illustration: col. g. salis-schwabe. "don't you hear a smell?"] [illustration: d. h. macfarlane. "he doesn't know how to sit down."] [illustration: col. hughes hallett. "made a desperate attack."] [illustration: g. b. gregory. gregory the great.] [illustration: lord lymington. "with ambling grace."] [illustration: g. beith. "prescience of coming doom."] the royal westminster academy. [illustration: sir charles dilke, painted by ashmead-bartlett.] [illustration: ashmead-bartlett, by sir charles dilke.] [illustration: g. o. trevelyan, by j. g. biggar.] [illustration: j. g. biggar, by g. o. trevelyan.] [illustration: campbell-bannerman, by w. r. smith.] [illustration: w. h. smith, by campbell-bannerman.] [illustration: h. labouchere, by c. newdegate.] [illustration: c. newdegate, by h. labouchere.] [illustration: j. k. cross, by w. woodall.] [illustration: w. woodall, by j. k. cross.] [illustration: j. bright, by himself.] [illustration: j. cowen, by himself.] [illustration: sir w. lawson, by a member who does not agree with him.] [illustration: the member, by sir w. lawson.] (_splendid collection of parliamentary portraits, mostly done by "the other fellows." the speaking likenesses speak for themselves and for the artists._) [illustration: g. c. t. bartley. "put a penny in, and the figure will move."] [illustration: a. blaine. "strolled in just in time."] [illustration: j. carvell williams. "will no more paralyse the church party."] [illustration: lord richard grosvenor. "richard's himself again!"] [illustration: david pugh. "this won't do!"] [illustration: h. labouchere. "turns his back on chamberlain."] [illustration: sir h. vivian. "little hussey!"] [illustration: a. mcarthur. "please, sir, i won't do it again."] [illustration: o'hea. o'shea. "happy combination of circumstances."] [illustration: t. duckham. "a rather melancholy aspect."] [illustration: wilson lloyd. "oratorical attitude eminently seductive."] [illustration: r. strong. "always equal to a quorum."] [illustration: j. rigby, q.c. "resumed debate on home rule."] [illustration: h. richard (_himself again_). "determined to have this out."] [illustration: wm. o'brien. "dealing with the situation."] [illustration: william woodall. "introduces his little miss billimina."] [illustration: w. s. robson. "taken after his defeat."] [illustration: ld. hartington. ld. r. churchill. j. chamberlain. behind the speaker's chair.] [illustration: sir r. temple. "exterior of the temple, by our con-temple-lative artist."] [illustration: j. woodhead. "he always went home to tea."] [illustration: sir donald currie. "just arrived!"] [illustration: h. spicer. "ain't i like lord salisbury?"] henry chaplin. [illustration: chaplin's opportunity.] "a ready wit and a fluent tongue are valuable auxiliaries. but force of character, consciousness of power, masculine ability in grappling with complicated questions, and that species of eloquence, the effect of which arises rather from earnestness, straightforwardness, and elevation of sentiment, than from sparkling or elaborate rhetoric, give a man a position in the house of commons which leaves him little in need of such other gifts as we have mentioned."--_standard, dec. 30._ [illustration: j. chamberlain. "10 to 1 on urgency!"] [illustration: sir p. o'brien. "sir p. o'brien invokes the divine sarah."] [illustration: wm. woodall. "nine times before it burst!"] [illustration: sir g. o. trevelyan. "temporary retirement."] [illustration: w. h. smith. "fancy german portrait of general sir smith, the british secretary of state for war." the reality- "w. h. smith, esq., war office."] [illustration: dr. tanner. "it's no place for irishmen!"] [illustration: j. j. o'kelly. "the o'kelly!"] [illustration: c. a. v. conybeare. "connybeare him!" (scotch joke.)] [illustration: sir robert peel. "went wrong on the home-rule question."] [illustration: e. heneage. "any age you like."] [illustration: g. o. morgan. "a bard."] [illustration: baron de worms. "that's the diet for worms."] [illustration: h. cecil raikes and sir lyon playfair. "members who have passed the chair."] [illustration: professor rogers. "a classic tone to conversation."] [illustration: j. g. biggar. "i'm agin repression anywhere."] [illustration: g. j. goschen. "a puzzle to himself."] [illustration: w. v. harcourt. j. chamberlain. the round-table conference. (from a report by _our young man_.)] [illustration: g. howell. "urgent public importance."] [illustration: w. r. cremer. "amendment rejected."] [illustration: j. leicester. "so excited."] [illustration: e. h. pickersgill. "has his eye upon him."] [illustration: joseph arch. "but sick in the sowl."] [illustration: c. fenwick and t. burt. "the wail of messrs. fenwick and burt."] [illustration: j. a. picton. [toby has many select portraits in his album, but this is a picton.]] [illustration: j. o'connor. "a note of admiration!"] [illustration: j. a. jacoby. "can't help smiling."] [illustration: sir g. campbell. "and such a horse!"] [illustration: t. sexton. "liar!"] [illustration: mundella. "the old parliamentary noes."] [illustration: t. d. sullivan. "fresh from channel passage."] [illustration: g. j. goschen. "oh, what a surprise!"] [illustration: lord charles beresford. "charlie hornpiping to them."] [illustration: sir e. bates. "could see them moving in the air."] [illustration: w. h. smith. "ready!"] [illustration: r. gent-davis. "davis sum, non oedipus."] [illustration: j. roberts. "all is not flint that looks stony."] [illustration: g. pitt lewis. "go it, little 'un!"] [illustration: christopher sykes. "early to bed," and "early to rise!" or, "keeping up the xtopher."--_march 22, 1887._] [illustration: sir b. samuelson. "le père."] [illustration: w. ambrose. "ambrosial eloquence."] [illustration: s. montagu. "something in the city."] [illustration: lord r. churchill and w. e. gladstone. "what! would they gag him?"] [illustration: lord r. churchill. "doesn't put his foot down."] [illustration: sir j. mcgarel hogg. "not going the whole hogg."] [illustration: h. northcote. "burning questions."] [illustration: j. finlayson. "how do you make that out?"] [illustration: o'gorman mahon. "knocking at the door."] [illustration: a. b. winterbotham. "smiles audibly."] [illustration: r. u. penrose fitzgerald. "robinson crusoe, m.p."] [illustration: matt. harris. "awkward question this!"] [illustration: w. davies. "not all beer and skittles."] [illustration: lord john manners. "the new duke."] [illustration: b. hingley. "and, pray, why do you do that?"] [illustration: i. holden. "young 'olden."] [illustration: alderman w. cook. "personally conducted."] [illustration: sir a. borthwick. "who's he?"] [illustration: f. w. maclean and lord r. churchill. _past and present members for woodstock._ "a pretty scene."] [illustration: l. a. atherley-jones. "on the watch."] [illustration: p. esslemont. "waiting for a hearing."] [illustration: col. nolan. "collapsed!"] [illustration: dr. j. farquharson. "thinking it over."] [illustration: h. campbell-bannerman. "order is tim's first law."] [illustration: m. biddulph. "look out!"] [illustration: sir e. clarke. "scandalous!"] [illustration: morgan howard. "how 'ard is my lot!"] [illustration: c. t. ritchie. "mephistopheles, m.p."] [illustration: j. leahy. "that's the worst of these fellows."] [illustration: h. c. e. childers. "h(ere) c(omes) e(verybody) ch-ld-rs."] [illustration: h. j. wilson. "must keep up dignity of parliament."] [illustration: s. smith. "on the prowl."] [illustration: g. newnes. "when found, make a note of."] [illustration: w. abraham. "clywch! clywch!"] [illustration: a. akers-douglas. "the sprightly whip."] [illustration: w. f. lawrence. "a constituent i presume!"] [illustration: sir wm. harcourt. "the morning's reflections."] [illustration: c. wright. "a clause every sixty seconds!"] [illustration: w. johnston. "stop thief!"] [illustration: sir j. h. kennaway. "we've lost two hours' precious time!"] [illustration: small and biggar. "the ould counthry."] [illustration: w. coddington. "£27,000!"] [illustration: admiral field. "tindal robertson's convoy."] [illustration: lord ramsay. "promoted."] [illustration: james watson. "whilst joseph gillis passes."] [illustration: sir j. e. gorst. "thinking of the bo'sun."] [illustration: j. c. bolton. "mr. bolton's cogitation."] [illustration: w. s. caine. "columbus, m.p."] [illustration: hon. c. r. spencer, m.p. "masher of parliament."] [illustration: sir w. lawson. "i rise to order."] [illustration: enter sir g. o. trevelyan. "rattling majority."] [illustration: exit e. russell. "popularity with both sides."] [illustration: j. a. balfour. "firmness without rashness?"] [illustration: r. b. finlay. "a q.c., m.p.--the long of it."] [illustration: j. j. o'kelly. "j. j. o'killy, esq., m.p., in his great duellist entertainment, adapted from the french."] [illustration: s. d. waddy. "another q.c., m.p.--the short of it."] [illustration: alderman chaplin, m.p. "and other good men."] [illustration: gen. sir e. b. hamley. "an eloquent speech."] [illustration: j. h. a. macdonald. "the lord advocate's attitude towards scotch members."] [illustration: j. m. mclean. "mclean interposes."] [illustration: c. c. lacaita. "how very abrupt!"] [illustration: lord r. churchill. "dear me! there surely can't be any difficulty in selecting a prime minister!"] [illustration: j. d. pyne. "requires a great deal of forcing."] [illustration: c. bradlaugh. "wants to know."] [illustration: dr. c. cameron. "the cameron pibroch."] [illustration: thomas shaw. "struck all of a heap."] [illustration: t. burt. "still full of fight."] [illustration: g. h. allsopp. "the state in danger."] [illustration: hon. c. r. spencer. "a serious politician."] [illustration: p. a. muntz. "talked it out!"] [illustration: j. dodds. "head of the dodd family."] [illustration: a. j. balfour and the lord advocate. "obstruction!"] [illustration: stephen mason. "exit."] [illustration: sir chas. forster. "still lithe enough."] [illustration: sir j. r. mowbray. "come, come, now!"] [illustration: sir w. c. brooks. "congratulatory cunliffe."] [illustration: j. f. x. o'brien. "looking daggers."] [illustration: t. b. potter. "laid in a good stock."] [illustration: arthur h. d. acland. "education."] [illustration: john bright. "brighter than ever."] [illustration: sir j. simon. "hush! i hear the pieman."] [illustration: h. smith wright. "leading the way."] [illustration: lord claud hamilton. "exit lord claud."] [illustration: r. b. haldane. "haldane, vincit!"] [illustration: the marquis of granby. "demme!"] [illustration: f. lockwood, q.c. "our artist q.c."] [illustration: sir lewis pelly. "pelly-melly."] [illustration: j. e. w. addison. "'spectator' in the house of lords."] [illustration: the speaker. the clerks. j. bright. w. e. forster. w. v. harcourt. w. e. gladstone. r. a. cross. s. northcote. w. h. smith. serjt.-at-arms. a. j. mundella. t. d. hartington. j. chamberlain. ld. j. manners. r. churchill. h. d. wolff.] [illustration: c. n. warton. j. biggar. a. bartlett. c. bradlaugh. c. s. parnell. t. healy. j. j. o'kelly. the westminster wax-works.] [illustration: leonard h. courtney. "courtney's quick change."] [illustration: sir wm. v. harcourt. "uncle pumblechook."] [illustration: r. cuninghame graham. "thinking of the 'orny 'anded one."] [illustration: e. s. w. de cobain. "problem: to find the third bill."] [illustration: sir r. temple. "the taj."] [illustration: p. m'lagan. "the judicious m'lagan."] [illustration: joseph chamberlain. "just in time."] [illustration: h. gardner. "the grand young gardner."] [illustration: g. p. fuller. "g. p. fuller laughed."] [illustration: h. campbell-bannerman and h. labouchere. "humorists of the house."] [illustration: t. w. russell. "goin' bock agen."] [illustration: h. campbell. "the campbell who is not coming."] [illustration: h. matthews. "in the heat of argument."] [illustration: c. s. parnell. "sir parnell."] [illustration: lord r. churchill and w. e. gladstone. "sweets to the sweet."] the royal westminster academy. [illustration: ld. selborne, painted by lord cairns.] [illustration: lord cairns, by lord selborne.] [illustration: earl granville, by marquis of salisbury.] [illustration: mar. of salisbury, by earl granville.] [illustration: earl derby, by lord carnarvon.] [illustration: lord carnarvon, by earl derby.] [illustration: earl spencer, by duke of abercorn.] [illustration: duke of abercorn, by earl spencer.] [illustration: lord sherbrooke, by lord cranbrook.] [illustration: lord cranbrook, by lord sherbrooke.] [illustration: duke of argyll, by himself.] [illustration: bishop of peterborough, by some one's deceased wife's sister.] (_splendid collection of parliamentary portraits, mostly done by "the other fellows." the speaking likenesses speak for themselves and for the artists._) [illustration: col. e. j. saunderson. "whirroo!"] [illustration: w. e. gladstone and lord r. churchill. a collarable imitation. "so sorry you've lost your voice!"] [illustration: sir e. watkin. "lord tannel-chunnel."] [illustration: wm. o'brien. "no gestures!"] [illustration: admiral r. c. mayne. "you may and you mayne't." _old saw_.] [illustration: w. e. gladstone. "shooting season--the gladstone preserves."] [illustration: h. c. e. childers. "sum time! sum time!"] [illustration: sir stafford northcote. "the ways of life are different now."] [illustration: john bright. "j. b., the polite letter-writer."] [illustration: a discord in black and white. hartington. harcourt. russell. gladstone. trevelyan. the speaker. manners. northcote. smith. cross. lowther. worms. warton. mundella. bright. chamberlain. wolff. the clerks. serjeant-at-arms. sir j. e. gorst. chaplin. forster. f. h. o'donnell. j. biggar.] [illustration: 1828. 1834. 1852. 1859. 1865. 1866. 1874. wellington. peel. aberdeen. palmerston. russell. derby. disraeli. retrospects; or, back views.] [illustration: fawcett. trevelyan. gladstone. chamberlain. hartington. dodson. bright. harcourt. childers. dilke. mundella. "the noes-es have it."--1882.] [illustration: j. chamberlain. j. bright. sir w. harcourt. lord hartington. w. e. gladstone. w. e. forster. j. g. dodson. some of the heads of the government.--1882.] [illustration: viscount wolmer said:--"he saw hon. members toss their heads." our special artist here gives the effect, showing how some hon. members lost their heads, and how others became wrong-headed.] [illustration: "o-dour what can the matter be?" "the nose have it." "you will nose it in the lobby."--_shakspear_.] parliamentary index. 1882-1888. [_the date attached to each name refers to the no. of "punch."_] page abraham, w. (_aug. 20, '87_) 45 acland, arthur h. d. (_may 5, '88_) 55 addison, j. e. w. (_july 14, '88_) 56 agnew, william (_june 26, '86_) 12 allsopp, hon. g. h. (_may 12, '88_) 52 ambrose, william (_apr. 23, '87_) 38 arch, joseph (_apr. 3, '86_) 34 ashmead-bartlett, e. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 30, '83_) 57 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_dec. 13, '84_) 4 " " (_may 30, '85_) 15 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 atherley-jones, ll. a. (_july 16, '87_) 41 balfour, rt. hon. arthur j. (_apr. 2, '87_) 4 " " (_aug. 20, '87_) 53 " " (_oct. 22, '87_) 49 balfour, rt. hon. j. b. (_may 15, '86_) 14 bartley, g. c. t. (_june 25, '87_) 24 bates, sir e. (_apr. 9, '87_) 36 beach, rt. hon. sir m. hicks (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 beith, g. (_oct. 30, '86_) 22 bentinck, rt. hon. g. cavendish (_aug. 8, '85_) 8 " " (_mar. 10, '88_) 20 beresford, lord charles (_mar. 26, '87_) 36 biddulph, michael (_oct. 2, '86_) 43 biggar, joseph g. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 30, '83_) 57 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_may 30, '85_) 15 " " (_feb. 5, '87_) 33 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_sept. 10, '87_) 46 blaine, a. (_sept. 11, '86_) 24 bolton, j. c. (_mar. 17, '88_) 47 bolton, t. h. (_apr. 24, '86_) 14 borthwick, sir algernon (_july 9, '87,_) 41 bourke, rt. hon. r. (_aug. 22, '85_) 8 bradlaugh, charles (_dec. 5, '85,_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 30, '83_) 57 " " (_july 28, '83_) 7 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_sept. 3, '87_) 3 " " (_feb. 25, '88_) 51 brand, rt. hon. sir henry (_july 7, '83_) 19 bright, rt. hon. john (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_aug. 5, '82_) 4 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_aug. 15, '85_) 63 " " (_july 3, '86_) 55 broadhurst, henry (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 brooks, sir w. c. (_may 12, '88_) 54 brown, a. l. (_may 15, '86_) 3 burt, thomas (_oct. 1, '87_) 34 " (_aug. 27, '87_) 52 byng, hon. and rev. f. e. c. (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_mar. 13, '86_) 2 caine, william s. (_aug. 27, '87_) 48 callan, philip (_aug. 8, '85_) 8 cameron, dr. c. (_mar. 3, '88_) 52 campbell-bannerman, rt. hon. h. (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_june 19, '86_) 59 " " (_may 7, '87_) 42 campbell, sir g. (_sept. 25, '86_) 35 campbell, h. (_july 14, '88_) 60 campbell, richard f. f. (_apr. 24, '86_) 8 chamberlain, rt. hon. joseph (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_feb. 13, '86_) 3 " " (_mar. 20, '86_) 18 " " (_apr. 10, '86_) 17 " " (_sept. 18, '86_) 27 " " (_jan. 22, '87_) 33 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_june 18, '87_) 29 " " (_aug. 4, '88_) 59 chamberlain, richard (_mar. 20, '86_) 18 chaplin, rt. hon. henry (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_may 30, '85_) 15 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_apr. 10, '86_) 5 " " (_jan. 8, '87_) 29 " " (_apr. 28, '88_) 50 childers, rt. hon. hugh c. e. (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_oct. 4, '84_) 63 " " (_july 23, '87_) 44 churchill, lord randolph (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 31, '83_) 39 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_oct. 25, '84_) 18 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_apr. 25, '85_) 60 " " (_may 2, '85_) 6 " " (_june 20, '85_) 11 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_july 25, '85_) 8 " " (_aug. 22, '85_) 62 " " (_feb. 6, '86_) 13 " " (_feb. 13, '86_) 20 " " (_july 24, '86_) 51 " " (_sept. 4, '86_) 38 " " (_sept. 18, '86_) 27 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 15, 66 " " (_july 16, '87_) 41 " " (_mar. 24, '88_) 11 clarke, sir e. (_july 25, '85_) 5 " (_july 30, '87_) 43 coddington, william (_july 23, '87_) 46 conybeare, charles a. v. (_sept. 25, '86_) 31 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 cook, alderman w. (_aug. 7, '86_) 41 courtney, leonard h. (_apr. 24, '86_) 15 " " (_mar. 26, '87_) 2 " " (_apr. 14, '88_) 58 cowen, joseph (_july 28, '83_) 23 cozens-hardy, h. h. (_apr. 24, '86_) 14 cremer, w. r. (_feb. 12, '87_) 34 cross, j. k. (_july 28, '83_) 23 cross, rt. hon. sir richard a. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_apr. 1, '82_) 11 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_aug. 1, '85_) 7 " " (_may 15, '86_) 15 currie, sir donald (_mar. 3, '88_) 28 davies, r. (_aug. 7, '86_) 14 davies, w. (_may 7, '87_) 40 de cobain, e. s. w. (_apr. 21, '88_) 58 de lisle, e. j. m. p. (_aug. 6, '87_) 17 de worms, baron h. (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_mar. 5, '87_) 32 " " (_sept. 24, '87_) 5 dilke, sir charles (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 dillwyn, lewis l. (_may 22, '86_) 16 disraeli, rt. hon. b. (_apr. 29, '82_) 65 dodds, j. (_apr. 14, '88_) 53 dodson, rt. hon. j. g. (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 douglas, a. akers (_sept. 10, '87_) 45 " " (_sept. 24, '87_) 5 " " (_aug. 18, '88_) 3 duckham, t. (_aug. 7, '86_) 25 duff, robert w. (_may 15, '86_) 16 duncan, colonel (_feb. 18, '88_) 6 esslemont, peter (_may 21, '87_) 42 ewing, a. orr (_may 22, '86_) 12 farquharson, dr. j. (_may 14, '87_) 42 fawcett, prof. henry (_july 8, '82_) 65 fenwick, c. (_oct. 1, '87_) 34 field, admiral (_mar. 24, '88_) 47 finlay, r. b. (_oct. 8, '87_) 49 finlayson, j. (_june 5, '86_) 39 fitzgerald, r. u. penrose (_may 28, '87_) 40 forster, sir c. (_apr. 1, '82_) 11 " (_aug. 11, '88_) 53 forster, rt. hon. w. e. (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 fowler, sir r. h. (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 fraser, general (_may 15, '86_) 20 fuller, g. p. (_feb. 25, '88_) 59 gardner, h. (_july 28, '88_) 59 gent-davis, r. (_feb. 26, '87_) 37 gibb, eccleston (_apr. 24, '86_) 13 gibson, rt. hon. e. (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 gilhooly, james (_may 28, '87_) 10 gladstone, rt. hon. w. e. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_apr. 8, '82_) 9 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_sept. 27, '84_) 63 " " (_apr. 25, '85_) 60 " " (_may 30, '85_) 15 " " (_june 20, '85_) 4 " " (_aug. 22, '85_) 62 " " (_may 29, '86_) 21 " " (_sept. 4, '86_) 38 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_sept. 3, '87_) 4 gladstone, herbert j. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 gorst, sir j. e. (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " (_july 25, '85_) 8 " (_feb. 25, '88_) 47 goschen, rt. hon. g. j. (_apr. 10, '86_) 17 " " (_oct. 30, '86_) 33 " " (_apr. 30, '87_) 36 gosset, ralph a. (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_july 28, '83_) 7 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 gosset, francis r. (_oct. 2. '86_) 2 graham, r. cuninghame (_july 28, '88_) 58 granby, marquis of (_aug. 4, '88_) 56 gregory, g. b. (_mar. 6, '86_) 22 grosvenor, lord richard (_oct. 11, '84_) 24 haldane, r. b. (_nov. 24, '88_) 56 hallett, colonel hughes (_june 12, '86_) 22 hamilton, lord claud (_aug. 18, '88_) 56 " " (_sept. 22, '88_) 3 hamilton, rt. hon. lord geo. (_july 5, '85_) 9 hamley, general sir e. (_mar. 17, '88_) 50 harcourt, rt. hon. sir wm. v. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_nov. 29, '84_) 18 " " (_june 27, '85_) 7 " " (_may 29, '86_) 21 " " (_jan. 22, '87_) 33 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_oct. 8, '87_) 45 " " (_june 16, '88_) 58 harris, matthew (_may 21, '87_) 40 hartington, marquis of (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_mar. 18, '82_) 65 " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 61 " " (_feb. 13, '86_) 11 " " (_april 10, '86_) 17 " " (_sept. 18, '86_) 27 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_sept. 3, '87_) 4 healy, t. m. (_june 30, '83_) 57 " (_aug. 6, '87_) 17 heneage, rt. hon. edward (_mar. 5, '87_) 32 henry, mitchell (_may 1, '86_) 16 hibbert, j. t. (_aug. 21, '86_) 12 hill, lord arthur w. (_feb. 19, '87_) 20 hingley, benjamin (_june 26, '86_) 41 hogg, sir james mcgarel (_feb. 12, '87_) 39 holden, isaac (_july 9, '87_) 41 howard, morgan (_oct. 2, '86_) 43 howell, george (_mar. 12, '87_) 34 illingworth, a. (_june 12, '86_) 12 jacoby, james a. (_sept. 18, '86_) 35 james, sir henry (_apr. 10, '86_) 17 jenkins, d. j. (_aug. 21, '86_) 21 johnston, w. (_aug. 6, '87_) 46 kennaway, sir j. h. (_july 30, '87_) 46 labouchere, henry (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_may 1, '86_) 25 " " (_may 29, '86_) 21 " " (_june 19, '86_) 59 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 lacaita, c. c. (_feb. 18, '88_) 51 lawrence, w. f. (_sept. 22, '88_) 45 lawson, sir wilfr. (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_sept. 22, '88_) 48 leahy, j. (_july 23, '87_) 43 leicester, j. (_apr. 3, '86_) 34 lennox, rt. hon. lord henry (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_june 27, '85_) 7 " " (_july 25, '85_) 5 lewis, g. pitt (_apr. 9, '87_) 37 lloyd, wilson (_aug. 21, '86_) 26 lockwood, frank (_july 21, '88_) 56 lowther, rt. hon. james (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_july 25, '85_) 5 lymington, viscount (_may 22, '86_) 22 mcarthur, a. (_june 12, '86_) 25 mccoan, j. c. (_july 7, '83_) 19 macdonald, rt. hon. j. h. a. (_may 1, '86_) 16 " " (_aug. 20, '87_) 53 " " (_june 16, '88_) 50 " " (_aug. 18, '88_) 3 macfarlane, d. h. (_dec. 18,'86_) 6 " " (_june 12, '86_) 22 m'lagan, p. (_apr. 28, '88_) 59 maclean, f. w. (_july 16, '87_) 41 maclean, j. m. (_aug. 13, '87_) 50 mahon, col. o'gorman (_sept. 29, '88_) 39 manners, rt. hon. lord john (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_mar. 31, '88_) 40 mason, stephen (_apr. 28, '88_) 53 matthews rt. hon. henry (_sept. 10, '87_) 10 " " (_nov. 24, '88_) 60 mayne, admiral r. c. (_aug. 18, '88_) 62 montagu, samuel (_apr. 30, '87_) 38 morgan, rt. hon. g. o. (_mar. 5, '87_) 32 morley, rt. h. john (_feb. 13, '86_) 3 mowbray, rt. hon. sir j. r. (_june 23, '88_) 54 mundella, rt. hon. a. j. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_apr. 24, '86_) 35 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 muntz, p. a. (_may 26, '88_) 52 newdegate, charles n. (_july 28, '83_) 23 newnes, george (_aug. 6, '87_) 44 nolan, colonel (_may 14, '87_) 42 northcote, rt. hon. sir stafford (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_feb. 7, '85_) 63 " " (_mar. 25, '85_) 6 northcote, hon. henry s. (_sept. 10, '87_) 39 o'brien, j. f. x. (_apr. 7, '88_) 54 o'brien, patrick (_aug. 15, '85_) 29 o'brien, william (_aug. 21, '86_) 27 " " (_july 7, '88_) 62 o'connor, john (_may 19, '88_) 35 o'donnell, frank h. (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 15, '84_) 13 o'hea, patrick (_aug. 21, '86_) 25 o'kelly, j. j. (_june 9, '83_) 49 " (_june 30, '83_) 57 " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " (_june 26, '86_) 31 o'shea, captain (_aug. 21, '86_) 25 palmerston, lord (_apr. 29, '82_) 65 parker, c. s. (_july 30, '87_) 10 parnell, chas. s. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " (_june 30, '83_) 57 " (_july 7, '83_) 19 " (_aug. 4, '88_) 60 peel, sir robert (_apr. 29, '82_) 65 peel, sir robert (3rd bart.) (_july 25, '85_) 5 " " (_oct. 30, '86_) 31 peel, rt. hon. a. w. (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_aug. 27, '87_) 2 pelly, sir lewis (_aug. 11, '88_) 56 pickersgill, e. h. (_aug. 13, '87_) 34 picton, j. a. (_mar. 26, '87_) 34 playfair, rt. hon. sir lyon (_mar. 12, '87_) 32 potter, t. b. (_apr. 7, '88_) 54 pugh, david (_aug. 28, '86_) 25 pyne, j. d. (_feb. 18, '88_) 51 raikes, rt. hon. h. cecil (_mar. 12, '87_) 32 ramsay, lord (_may 22, '86_) 47 redmond, w. h. k. (_june 19, '86_) 21 richard, henry (_june 5, '86_) 26 rigby, john (_june 5, '86_) 26 ritchie, rt. hon. c. t. (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_aug. 27, '87_) 43 roberts, j. (_apr. 16, '87_) 37 robertson, j. p. b. (_may 29, '86_) 10 robson, w. s. (_aug. 7, '86_) 27 rogers, j. e. thorold (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_oct. 30, '86_) 33 russell, lord john (_apr. 29, '82_) 65 russell, sir charles (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 russell, edward (_aug. 13, '87_) 48 russell, t. w. (_apr. 21, '88_) 59 samuelson, sir b. (_apr. 16, '87_) 38 saunderson, col. e. j. (_july 7, '88_) 62 schwabe, col. g. salis (_june 5, '86_) 22 sexton, thomas (_apr. 23, '87_) 35 shaw, thomas (_may 19, '88_) 52 shuttleworth, sir u. j. kay (_mar. 24, '88_) 10 simon, sir j. (_may 5, '88_) 55 small, j. f. (_sept. 10, '87_) 46 smith, s. (_july 2, '87_) 44 smith, rt. hon. w. h. (_dec. 5, '85_) _frontisp._ " " (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_july 4, '85_) 9 " " (_feb. 6, '86_) 18 " " (_oct. 23, '86_) 30 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_apr. 23, '87_) 36 spencer, hon. c. r. (_mar. 17, '83_) 48 " " (_feb. 27, '86_) 16 " " (_may 26, '88_) 52 spicer, henry (_aug. 21, '86_) 28 stansfeld, rt. hon. james (_apr. 10, '86_) 21 strong, richard (_oct. 30, '86_) 26 sullivan, t. d. (_apr. 9, '87_) 35 sykes, christopher (_apr. 3, '86_) 13 " " (_apr. 2, '87_) 37 tanner, dr. (_oct. 2, '86_) 31 temple, sir richard (_feb. 6, '86_) 28 " " (_apr. 10, '86_) 13 " " (_feb. 12, '87_) 66 " " (_june 23, '88_) 58 tottenham, colonel (_may 1, '86_) 14 trevelyan, rt. hon. sir g. o. (_july 8, '82_) 65 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_apr. 10, '86_) 17 " " (_oct. 30, '86_) 30 " " (_aug. 13, '87_) 48 vivian, sir hussey (_apr. 30, '87_) 25 waddy, s. d. (_oct. 8, '87_) 49 walrond, colonel (_sept. 24, '87_) 5 warton, charles n. (_june 30, '83_) 57 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 watkin, sir e. (_july 7, '88_) 62 watson, james (_mar. 10, '88_) 47 westminster academy (royal) (_july 7, '83_) 19 " " (_july 14, '83_) 61 " " (_july 28, '83_) 23 williams, j. carvell (_aug. 7, '86_) 24 wilson, h. j. (_july 2, '87_) 44 wilson, sir matthew (_aug. 7, '86_) 14 winterbotham, a. b. (_june 25, '87_) 39 wolff, sir henry drummond (_june 9, '83_) 57 " " (_aug. 18, '83_) 64 " " (_nov. 1, '84_) 1 " " (_june 20, '85_) 11 " " (_july 25, '85_) 8 woodall, william (_july 28, '83_) 23 " " (_nov. 29, '84_) 27 " " (_sept. 18, '86_) 30 woodhead, j. (_mar. 27, '86_) 28 wortley, c. b. stuart (_june 16, '88_) 10 wright, caleb (_july 28, '88_) 46 wright, h. smith (_may 26, '88_) 55 [illustration: "welcome! little stranger."] harry furniss's royal academy. an artistic joke. the exhibition consisted of eighty-seven pictures, in black and white of course, but otherwise similar in size and general appearance to those annually seen on the walls of burlington house. anyone who visited it must have seen that it was the result of many years of labour, and not a few of the pictures possessed an artistic value quite apart from their interest as pictorial travesties. a wish has been very generally expressed that some permanent record, in a portable shape, but in character consonant with the artistic purpose of the exhibition, should be procurable by the public at large, both those who saw and those who did not see the originals at the gainsborough gallery and elsewhere. to meet this wish an #album#, containing reproductions of these #eighty-seven pictures#, with which will be included the contents of #the illustrated catalogue#, has been prepared and largely subscribed for. the issue of these albums, however, which will be the only reproductions of the exhibition, is strictly limited to #one thousand copies#, each of which will be signed by the artist. it may be mentioned that the whole of this undertaking, from its conception to the present time, has been in mr. furniss's own hands. this has enabled mr. furniss scrupulously to maintain the artistic character of the whole enterprise. in the preparation of this album he has spared no time or expense in trying reproductions by the different processes at home and abroad, similar to those used in the album of the royal academy pictures of 1886, and the annual reproductions of the french salon. not, however, being satisfied with any of these cheaper methods, he has, regardless of the great cost, adopted the finest method of photogravure--viz., the photo intaglio process of a. and c. dawson, no. 3, farringdon street, and hogarth works, chiswick, the reproductions being made under his own supervision. each plate is hand-printed, and will in every way surpass, for artistic quality, anything of the kind ever published. as photogravure is the best and most faithful, as well as the most expensive method, this album is certain to be valuable, and a worthy and complete memorial of the "artistic joke"; whilst the price charged will be only _£3 3s._, the same as fixed, originally, when the adoption of the cheaper process was contemplated. the size of the album is imperial quarto (11 by 15 inches); the plates range, on an average, from 4 × 6 to 7½ × 9 inches. the whole is handsomely and tastefully bound in cloth and gilt edged. after the thousand veritable _édition de luxe_ were printed, the plates were destroyed. _#the whole edition is rapidly being exhausted and the price will be raised to five guineas in a few days#_. _orders should be forwarded to_ the typographic-etching co., _no. 3, farringdon street_. _#£3 3s. 6d.#_ (_including case for packing_). "i have now hit upon a very happy thought."--_happy thoughts._ #"happy thoughts" birthday book.# _selected and arranged from "mr. punch's" pages_ by rosie burnand, [illustration] with #frontispiece portrait# of #f. c. burnand.# profusely illustrated and choicely printed. royal 16mo, elegant cloth. price 3s. 6d. bradbury, agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, london, e.c. #john leech's pictures# #of life and character.# from the collection of "mr. punch." containing nearly 900 pages of pictures. in 3 volumes, price 10s. 6d. each, or in one volume, price 28s. "the genius of leech has never been seen to greater advantage than in this gallery."--_morning post._ "we doubt whether in the whole range of the literary or pictorial art of the period, the earlier portion of the victorian era has been elsewhere so vigorously, so truthfully, as well as so humorously portrayed as in john leech's inimitable pictures. the series has an importance beyond the amusement of the moment--it serves both to commemorate the genius of the artist and the character of the age."--_country gentleman._ * * * #400 pictures of our people.# [illustration] _sketches from "punch"_ by #charles keene.# super royal quarto, gilt edges, price £1 1s. bradbury, agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, e.c. "a pictorial key to the history of the queen's reign." #punch's victorian era# an illustrated chronicle of fifty years of the reign of _her majesty the queen_, pictorially arranged with annals of the time from the contemporary pages of #"punch."# "there can be no better book for a drawing-room table, to suggest subjects of talk. the arts of engraving have made rapid progress since these pictures first appeared, but it would be hard to surpass the pregnant humour of the more famous of the political cartoons. they put the points on all the critical periods of our parliamentary history, and indicate in effective outline the action of political celebrities."--_times._ "it is surprising to find how complete a history of the times they present in vivid form, at least in its most salient features; and a history which is not confined to political events, but which catches and stereotypes many of the evanescent phases of popular fashion and opinion, which could hardly be preserved in any other way."--_guardian._ "this chronicle must have a place amongst standard books of reference."--_spectator._ in 3 volumes, royal quarto, elegant, price £2 2s. bradbury, agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, e.c. our river: _personal reminiscences of an artist's life_ on the river thames. by g. d. leslie, r.a. with fifty original drawings and sketches by the author; and some others by frederick walker, a.r.a., h. s. marks, r.a., and briton riviere, r.a. [illustration: "punt sailing with the stream" (_reduced._)] "mr. leslie has a keen sense of the picturesque, while a genuine enthusiasm for the beauties of scenery to be found in the course of a leisurely boat-trip from putney to oxford, gives life and even force to what he says.... 'our river' is not an exhaustive work, but it should be read by all persons who are in any way interested in the subject."--_times._ "the diction moves in a sort of endless ripple, now telling of water-weeds and bank-flowers and birds, now lingering pleasantly over some of the traditions and old-world lore of which the thames furnishes such a goodly quantity."--_graphic._ demy octavo. cloth elegant, gilt edges. price 12s. 6d. bradbury, agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, e.c. #the handy-volume# #scott.# (novels.) complete. (poems.) containing all the waverley novels, and a complete collection of sir walter scott's poetry, making 32 elegant little volumes of high external finish, enclosed in an artistic case, measuring only 9¼ inches in width, 10¼ inches in height, and 3¾ inches in depth. the poetical volumes are adorned with frontispieces and illustrations representative of the best known scottish scenery, or of places which the genius of the poet has made famous. [illustration] contents of the volumes. 1. waverley. 2. guy mannering. 3. old mortality. 4. rob roy. 5. the antiquary. 6. heart of midlothian. 7. ivanhoe. 8. monastery. 9. the abbot. 10. kenilworth. 11. the pirate. 12. peveril of the peak. 13. bride of lammermoor. 14. legend of montrose. 15. fortunes of nigel. 16. quentin durward. 17. st. ronan's well. 18. redgauntlet. 19. the betrothed. 20. the talisman. 21. woodstock. 22. fair maid of perth. 23. anne of geierstein. 24. count robert of paris. 25. surgeon's daughter. 26. lay of last minstrel and memoir. 27. marmion. 28. lady of the lake. 29. lord of the isles. 30. rokeby. 31. bridal of triermain. 32. ballads, poems, &c. prices in "case." _£ s. d._ crimson cloth, extra gilt 3 3 0 french morocco 4 17 6 turkey morocco, or russia 9 10 0 prices in "cabinet." _£ s. d._ enamelled boards 2 2 0 fine cloth 3 3 0 french morocco 4 14 6 _each of the volumes can be had separately, price 1s. in enamelled boards; and in cloth, red edges, price 1s. 6d. the novels only (volumes 1 to 25) in half red cloth, price 1s. 3d. each._ bradbury, agnew, & co., 8, 9, 10, bouverie street, e.c. sketches by seymour part 4. [watty williams and bull] "he sat, like patience on a monument, smiling at grief." watty williams was a studious youth, with a long nose and a short pair of trowsers; his delight was in the green fields, for he was one of those philosophers who can find sermons in stones, and good in everything. one day, while wandering in a meadow, lost in the perusal of zimmerman on solitude, he was suddenly aroused from his reverie by a loud "moo!" and, turning about, he descried, to his dismay, a curly-fronted bull making towards him. now, watt., was so good-humoured a fellow, that he could laugh at an irish bull, and withal, so staunch a protestant, that a papal bull only excited a feeling of pity and contempt; but a bull of the breed which was careering towards him in such lively bounds, alarmed him beyond all bounds; and he forthwith scampered over the meadow from the pugnaceous animal with the most agile precipitation imaginable; for he was not one of those stout-hearted heroes who could take the bull by the horns--especially as the animal appeared inclined to contest the meadow with him; and though so fond of beef (as he naturally was), he declined a round upon the present occasion. seeing no prospect of escape by leaping stile or hedge, he hopped the green turf like an encaged lark, and happily reached a pollard in the midst of the meadow. climbing up with the agility of a squirrel, he seated himself on the knobby summit of the stunted willow. still retaining his zimmerman and his senses, he looked down and beheld the corniferous quadruped gamboling playfully round his singular asylum. "very pleasant!" exclaimed he; "i suppose, old fellow you want to have a game at toss!--if so, try it on with your equals, for you must see, if you have any gumption, that watty williams is above you. aye, you may roar!--but if i sit here till aurora appears in the east, you won't catch me winking. what a pity it is you cannot reflect as well as ruminate; you would spare yourself a great deal of trouble, and me a little fright and inconvenience." the animal disdainfully tossed his head, and ran at the tree--and "away flew the light bark!" in splinters, but the trunk remained unmoved. "shoo! shoo!" cried watty, contemptuously; but he found that shoo'ing horns was useless; the beast still butted furiously against the harmless pollard. "hallo!" cried he to a dirty boy peeping at a distance--"hallo!" but the lad only looked round, and vanished in an instant. "the little fool's alarmed, i do believe!" said he; "he's only a cow-boy, i dare say!" and with this sapient, but unsatisfactory conclusion, he opened his book, and read aloud, to keep up his courage. the bull hearing his voice, looked up with a most melancholy leer, the corners of his mouth drawn down with an expression of pathetic gravity. luckily for watty, the little boy had given information of his dilemma, and the farmer to whom the bull belonged came with some of his men, and rescued him from his perilous situation. "the gentleman will stand something to drink, i hope?" said one of the men. "certainly" said watty. "that's no more than right," said the farmer, "for, according to the new police act, we could fine you." "what for?" "why, we could all swear that when we found you, you were so elevated you could not walk!" hereupon his deliverers set up a hearty laugh. watty gave them half-a-crown; saying, with mock gravity-"i was on a tree, and you took me off--that was kind! i was in a fright, and you laughed at me; that was uncharitable. farewell!" delicacy! lounging in hyde park with the facetious b____, all on a summer's day, just at that period when it was the fashion to rail against the beautiful statue, erected by the ladies of england, in honour of the great captain-"the hero of a hundred fights,"-"how proudly must he look from the windows of apsley house," said i, "upon this tribute to his military achievements." "no doubt," replied b____; and with all that enthusiasm with which one man of mettle ever regards another! at the same time, how lightly must he hold the estimation of the gallant sons of britain, when he reflects that he has been compelled to guard his laurelled brow from the random bullets of a democratic mob, by shot-proof blinds to his noble mansion: this was: 'the unkindest cut of all,' after all his hair-breadth 'scapes, by flood and field, in the service. of his country, to be compelled to fortify his castle against domestic foes." "a mere passing cloud, that can leave no lasting impression on his great mind," said i; "while this statue will for ever remain, a memorial of his great deeds; and yet the complaint is general that the statue is indelicate--as if, forsooth, this was the first statue exhibited in 'puris naturalibus' in england. i really regard it as the senseless cavilling of envious minds." "true," said b____, laughing; "there is a great deal of railing about the figure, but we can all see through it!" at the same time thrusting his walking-stick through the iron-fence that surrounds the pedestal. as for delicacy, it is a word that is used so indiscriminately, and has so many significations, according to the mode, that few people rightly understand its true meaning. we say, for instance, a delicate child; and pork-butchers recommend a delicate pig! delicacy and indelicacy depend on the mind of the recipient, and is not so much in the object as the observer, rely on't. some men have a natural aptitude in discovering the indelicate, both in words and figures they appear, in a manner, to seek for it. i assure you that. i (you may laugh if you will) have often been put to the blush by the repetition of some harmless phrase, dropped innocently from my lips, and warped by one of these 'delicate' gentlemen to a meaning the very reverse of what i intended to convey. like men with green spectacles, they look upon every object through an artificial medium, and give it a colour that has no existence in itself! it was only last week, i was loitering about this very spot, when i observed, among the crowd of gazers, a dustman dressed in his best, and his plump doxy, extravagantly bedizened in her holiday clothes, hanging on his arm. as they turned away, the lady elevated the hem of her rather short garments a shade too high (as the delicate dustman imagined) above her ancle. he turned towards her, and, in an audible whisper, said, 'delicacy, my love--'delicacy!'--'lawks, fred!' replied the damsel, with a loud guffaw,'--'it's not fashionable!--besides, vot's the good o' having a fine leg, if one must'nt show it?' so much for opinions on delicacy! "now jem--" "now, jem, let's shew these gals how we can row." the tide is agin us, i know, but pull away, jem, like a trump; vot's that? o! my vig, it's a barge-oh! criky! but that vos a bump! how lucky 'twas full o' round coals, or ve might ha' capsized her--perhaps! see, the bargemen are grinning, by goles! i never seed sich wulgar chaps. come, pull away, jem, like a man, a vherry's a coming along vith a couple o' gals all agog-so let us be first in the throng. now put your scull rig'ler in, don't go for to make any crabs; but feather your oar, like a nob, and show 'em ve're nothink but dabs! the vaterman's leering at us, and the gals is a giggling so-they take us for green'uns, but ve vill soon show 'em how ve can row. alas! for poor bobby's "show off"-he slipp'd in a trice from his seat-while his beaver fell into the stream, and the gals laugh'd aloud at his feat. for his boots were alone to be seen, as he sprawled like a crab on its back; while the waterman cried--"ho! my lads! i think you'd best try t'other tack!" says bobby--"you fool, it's your fault; look--my best sunday castor is vet: pull ashore, then, as fast as you can. i can't row no more--i'm upset. "i think that my napper is broke, abumpin' agin this wile boat; you may laugh--but i think it's no joke: and i shan't soon agin be afloat. "i'll never take you out agin-i've had quite enough in this bout!" cried jem--"don't be angry vith me; sit still, and i'll soon--put you out!" steaming it to margate. "steward, bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can." since the invention of steam, thousands have been tempted to inhale the saline salubrity of the sea, that would never have been induced to try, and be tried, by the experiment of a trip. like hams for the market, every body is now regularly salted and smoked. the process, too, is so cheap! the accommodations are so elegant, and the sailors so smart! none of the rolling roughness of quid-chewing jack-tars. jack-tars! pshaw! they are regular smoke jacks on board a steamer! the steward ("waiter" by half the cockneys called) is so ready and obliging; and then the provisions is excellent. who would not take a trip to margate? there's only one thing that rather adulterates the felicity--a drop of gall in the cup of mead!--and that is the horrid sea-sickness! learnedly called nostalgia; but call it by any name you please, like a stray dog, it is pretty sure to come. the cold perspiration--the internal commotion--the brain's giddiness--the utter prostration of strength--the oh! i never shall forget the death-like feel!--fat men rolling on the deck, like fresh caught porpoises; little children floundering about; and white muslins and parasols vanishing below! the smoking-hot dinner sends up its fumes, and makes the sick more sick. soda-water corks are popping and flying about in every direction, like a miniature battery pointed against the assaults of the horrid enemy! "steward!" faintly cries a fat bilious man, "bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can." but alas! he who can thus readily summon spirits from the vasty deep, has no power over the rolling sea, or its reaches! "o! my poor pa!" exclaims the interesting wilhelmina; and is so overcome, that she, sweet sympathizer! is soon below pa in the ladies' cabin. in fact, the greater part of the pleasure-seekers are taken--at full length. even young ladies from boarding-school, who are thinking of husbands, declare loudly against maritime delight! while all the single young men appear double. the pier at last appears--and the cargo of drooping souls hail it with delight, and with as grateful a reverence as if they were received by the greatest peer of the realm! they hurry from the boat as if 'twere charon's, and they were about stepping into the fields of elysium! a change comes o'er the spirit of their dream--their nerves are braced; and so soon are mortal troubles obliterated from the mind, that in a few days they are ready again to tempt the terrors of sea-sickness in a voyage homewards--notwithstanding many of them, in their extremity, had vowed that they never would return by water, if they outlived the present infliction; considering, naturally enough, that it was "all up" with them! peter simple's foreign adventure. "loud roared the dreadful thunder."--bay of biscay. the good ship firefly tossed and tumbled on the mountainous waves of the stormy sea, like a cork in a gutter; and when she could not stem the waves, politically tried a little tergiversation, and went stern foremost! the boatswain piped all hands, and poor peter simple piped his eye; for the cry of the whole crew was, that they were all going to davy jones's locker. the waves struck her so repeatedly, that at last she appeared as ungovernable as a scold in a rage; and as she found she could not, by any means, strike the storm in the wind, and so silence it, she gave vent to her fury by striking upon a rock! it was a hard alternative truly; but what could she do? the long boat was soon alongside, and was not long before it was filled with tars and salt-water. alas! she was speedily swamped, and the crew were compelled to swim for their lives. peter, however, could not swim, but the sea gave him a lift in his dilemma, and washed him clean ashore, where he lay for some time like a veritable lump of salt-peter! when the storm had abated he came to himself, and of course found himself in no agreeable company! sticking his cocked-hat on his head, and grasping his dirk in his hand, he tottered to a rock, when, seating himself, he philosophically rocked to and fro. "oh! vy vos i a midshipman," cried he, "to be wrecked on this desolate island? i vish i vos at home at bloomsbury! oh! that i had but to turn and embrace my kind, good, benevolent, and much respected grandmother." as he uttered this pathetic plaint, he heard a chatter--of which, at first considering that it proceeded from his own teeth, he took no notice--but the sounds being repeated, he turned his head, and beheld a huge baboon with a dog-face and flowing hair, grinning with admiration at his cocked hat. one look was sufficient! he leaped from his seat, and rushed wildly forward, threading a wood in his way, and turning in and out--in and out --with the sharpness and facility of a needle in the heel of a worsted stocking--he never stayed his flight, 'till he fell plump into the centre of a group of indians, who received him with a yell!--loud enough to split the drums of a whole drawing-room full of ears polite. he would have fallen headlong with fear and exhaustion upon the turf, had not a gentle female caught the slender youth in her arms, and embraced him with all the energetic affection of a boa-constrictor. peter trembled like a little inoffensive mouse in the claws of a tabby! at the same time one of the indians stepped forward, brandishing his scalping knife. he was the very prototype of an animated bronze hercules; and, seizing the poor middy's lank locks, with a peculiar twist, in his iron grasp--peter fainted! peter simple's foreign adventure. no. ii. "o! what a lost mutton am i!"--inkle and yarico. most luckily for poor peter was it, that he fell into the hands, or rather the arms, of the indian maid; for she not only preserved his crop, but his life. when he recovered from his swoon, he found himself seated beside his preserver, who, with one arm round his waist, was holding a cocoa-nut, filled with a refreshing beverage, to his parched and pallid lips. a large fire blazed in the middle of the wide space occupied by the indians, and he beheld the well-known coats and jackets of the brave crew of the firefly scattered on the greensward. his heart palpitated-he thought at first that the villainous indians had stripped them, and left them to wander in a state of nature through the tangled and briery woods. he was, however, soon--too soon--convinced that the savages had dressed them! yes, that merry crew--who had so often roasted him--had been roasted by the indians! from this awful fate the lovely ootanga had preserved him. she had suddenly conceived a violent affection for the young white-face; and, after a long harangue to the chief, her father, his consent was obtained, and the nuptials were celebrated. "i smell a rat," said peter--"i'm booked; but better booked than cooked, at any rate;" and forthwith returned thanks to the company for the honour they had conferred upon him, in the fashion of an after-dinner speech, accompanied with as much pantomime as he could manage. a dance and a feast followed, of which peter partook; but whether rabbit, squirrel, or monkey, formed the basis of his wedding-supper, he was not naturalist enough to determine. ootanga's affection, however, was sufficient to make amends for anything; she was, in truth, a most killing beauty, for she brought him tigers slain by her own hands, and made a couch for him of the skins. she caught rattlesnakes for him, and spitch-cooked them for his breakfast. in fact, there was nothing she left undone to convince him of her unbounded love. peter's heart, however, was untouched by all this show of tenderness; for the fact is, he had already given his heart to a white-face in his own country. the only consolation he had in his forlorn situation was to talk of her continually; and, as ootanga understood not a syllable of what he uttered, she naturally applied all his tender effusions to herself, and laughed and grinned, and showed her white teeth, as if she would devour her little husband. seated on a tiger skin, with his lawful spouse beside him, arrayed in shells, bows, feathers, and all the adornments of a savage bride, he still sighed for home, and plaintively exclaimed:-"here i am, married to the only daughter of the great chief, who would have roasted me with the rest of our crew, had i not given a joyful consent. oh! i wonder if i ever shall get home, and be married to miss wiggins!!!" the lovely wide-mouthed ootanga patted him fondly on the chin, and dreamed in her ignorance that he was paying her a compliment in his native language. dobbs's "duck." a legend of horselydown. it may be accepted as an indubitable truth, that when the tenderest epithets are bandied between a married couple, that the domestic affairs do not go particularly straight. dobbs and his rib were perhaps the most divided pair that ever were yoked by hymen. d. was a good-humored fellow, a jovial blade, full of high spirits--while his wife was one of the most cross-grained and cantankerous bodies that ever man was blessed with--and yet, to hear the sweet diminutives which they both employed in their dialogues, the world would have concluded that they were upon the best terms conceivable. "my love," quoth mrs. d., "i really now should like to take a boat and row down the river as far as battersea; the weather is so very fine, and you know, my dear love, how fond i am of the water." d. could have added (and indeed it was upon the very tip of his tongue)--"mixed with spirits"--but he wisely restrained the impertinent allusion. "well, my duck," said he, "you have only to name the day, you know, i am always ready to please,"--and then, as was his habit, concluded his gracious speech by singing-"'tis woman vot seduces all mankind-their mother's teach them the wheedling art." "hold your nonsense, do," replied mrs. d____, scarcely able to restrain her snappish humour, but, fearful of losing the jaunt, politically added, "suppose, love, we go to-day--no time like the present, dear." "thine am i--thine am i," sang the indulgent husband. and mrs. d____ hereupon ordered the boy to carry down to the stairs a cargo of brandy, porter, and sandwiches, for the intended voyage, and taking her dear love in the humour, presently appeared duly decked out for the trip. two watermen and a wherry were soon obtained, and dobbs, lighting his cigar, alternately smoked and sang, while his duck employed herself most agreeably upon the sandwiches. the day was bright and sunny, and exceedingly hot; and they had scarcely rowed as far as the red-house, when mrs. d____became rather misty, from the imbibation of the copious draughts she had swallowed to quench her thirst. a lighter being a-head, the boatmen turned round, while dobbs, casting up his eyes to the blue heavens, was singing, in the hilarity of his heart, "hearts as warm as those above, lie under the waters cold," when the boat heeled, and his duck, who unfortunately could not swim, slipped gently over the gunwhale, and, unnoticed, sank to rise no more. "ah!" said dobbs, when, some months afterwards, he was speaking of the sad bereavement, "she was a wife! i shall never get such another, and, what's more, i would not if i could." strawberries and cream. among all the extraordinary and fantastic dishes compounded for the palate of heliogabalus, the prince of epicures, that delicious admixture of the animal and the vegetable--strawberries and cream--is never mentioned in the pages of the veracious chronicler of his gastronomic feats! yes! 'tis a lamentable truth, this smooth, oleaginous, and delicately odorous employment for the silver spoon, was unknown. should the knowledge of his loss reach him in the fields of elysium, will not his steps be incontinently turned towards the borders of the styx--his plaintive voice hail the grim ferryman, while in his most persuasive tones he cries-"row me back--row me back," that he may enjoy, for a brief space, this untasted pleasure? ye gods! in our mind's eye we behold the heartless and unfeeling charon refuse his earnest prayer, and see his languid spirit--diluted by disappointment to insipidity--wandering over the enamelled meads, as flat and shallow as an overflow in the dank fens of lincoln. his imagination gloats upon the fragrant invention, and he gulps at the cheating shadow until elysium becomes a perfect hades to his tortured spirit. mellow, rich, and toothsome compound! toothsome did we say? nay, even those who have lost their 'molares, incisores,' canine teeth, 'dentes sapientiae,' and all can masticate and inwardly digest thee! racy and recherche relish! thou art-as delicate as first love-as white and red as a maiden's cheek-as palateable as well-timed flattery-as light and filling as the gas of a balloon-as smooth as a courtier-as odorous as the flowers of jasmin--as soft as flos silk-as encouraging, without being so illusory, as hope-as tempting as green herbage to lean kine------------ a chancery suit to the bill of a cormorant-lawyer------------ a pump to a thirsty paviour------------ a sun-flower to a bee------------ a ripe melon to a fruit-knife------------ a rose to a nightingale--or ----------- a pot of treacle to a blue-bottle-as beautiful to the eye as a page of virgin-vellum richly illuminated and as satisfactory as a fat legacy! talk of nectar! if jupiter should really wish to give a bonne-bouche to juno, leda, or venus, or any one of his thousand and one flames, let him skim the milky-way--transform the instrumental part of the music of the spheres into 'hautboys,' and compound the only dish worth the roseate lips of the gentle dames 'in nubibus,' and depend on it, the cups of ganymede and hebe will be rejected for a bowl of--strawberries and cream. a day's pleasure.--no. i. the journey out. "it's werry hot, but werry pleasant." says mrs. sibson to her spouse "the days is hot and fair; i think 'twould do the children good to get a little hair! "for ve've been moping here at home and nothin' seen o' life; vhile neighbor jones he takes his jaunts o' sundays vith his vife!" "vell! vell! my dear," quoth mr. s____ "let's hear vot you purpose; i'm al'ays ready to comply, as you, my love, vell knows. "i'll make no bones about the cost; you knows i never stick about a trifle to amuse, so, dearest pol, be quick." "vhy, this is it:--i think ve might to hornsey have a day; maria, peg, and sal, and bet ve'd pack into a 'chay.' "our jim and harry both could valk, (god bless their little feet!) the babby in my arms i'd take-i'm sure 'twould be a treat;" quoth he: "i am unanimous!" and so the day was fix'd; and forth they started in good trim, tho' not with toil umnix'd. across his shoulders sibson bore a basket with the "grub," and to the "chay" perform'd the "horse," lest mrs. s____ should snub. apollo smiled!--that is, the sun blazed in a cloudless sky, and sibson soon was in a "broil" by dragging of his "fry." says s____, "my love, i'm dry as dust!" when she replied, quite gay, "then, drink; for see i've bottled up my spirits for the day." and from the basket drew a flask, and eke a footless glass; he quaff'd the drink, and cried, "now, dear, i'm strong as ____" let that pass! at last they reach'd the destined spot and prop and babes unpacked; they ran about, and stuff'd, and cramm'd, and really nothing lack'd. and sibson, as he "blew a cloud," declared, "it vos a day!" and vow'd that he would come again-then call'd for "vot's to pay?" a day's pleasure.--no. ii. the journey home. "vot a soaking ve shall get." across the fields they homeward trudged, when, lo! a heavy rain came pouring from the sky; poor sibson haul'd, the children squall'd; alas! it was too plain they would not reach home dry. with clay-clogg'd wheels, and muddy heels, and jim upon his back, he grumbled on his way; "vell, blow my vig! this is a rig!" cried sibson, "vell! alack! i shan't forget this day! "my shoes is sop, my head's a mop; i'm vet as any think; oh! shan't ve cotch a cold!" "your tongue is glib enough!" his rib exclaim'd, and made him shrink, --for she was such a scold-and in her eye he could descry a spark that well he knew into a flame would rise; so he was dumb, silent and glum, as the small "chay" he drew, and ventured no replies. slip, slop, and slush! past hedge and bush, the dripping mortals go (tho' 'twas "no go" s____ thought); "if this 'ere's fun, vy i for vuu," cried he, with face of woe, "von't soon again be caught. "vet to the skin, thro' thick and thin, to trapes ain't to my mind; so the next holiday i vill not roam, but stick at home, for there at least i'll find the means to soak my clay. "tis quite a fag, this 'chay' to drag--the babbies too is cross, and mrs. s____ is riled. 'tis quite a bore; the task is more--more fitt'rer for an horse; and vith the heat i'm briled! "no, jaunts adoo! i'll none o' you!"--and soon they reach'd their home, wet through and discontent-"sure sich a day, i needs must say," exclaim'd his loving spouse, "afore i never spent!" hammering "beside a meandering stream there sat an old gentleman fat; on the top of his head was his wig, on the top of his wig was his hat." i once followed a venerable gentleman along the banks of a mill-stream, armed at all points with piscatorial paraphernalia, looking out for some appropriate spot, with all the coolness of a spanish inquisitor, displaying his various instruments of refined torture. he at last perched himself near the troubled waters, close to the huge revolving wheel, and threw in his float, which danced upon the mimic waves, and bobbed up and down, as if preparing for a reel. patiently he sat; as motionless and unfeeling as a block. i placed myself under cover of an adjoining hedge, and watched him for the space of half an hour; but he pulled up nothing but his baited hook;--what his bait was, i know not; but i suppose, from the vicinity, he was fishing for a "miller's thumb." presently, two mealy-mouthed men, from the mill, made their appearance, cautiously creeping behind him. i drew myself up in the shadow of the luxuriant quickset to observe their notions. a paling in the rear offered the rogues an effectual concealment in case the angler should turn. close to his seat ran some wood-work, upon which they quietly drew the broad tails of his coat, and driving in a couple of tenpenny nails, left the unconscious old gentleman a perfect fixture; to be taken at a valuation, i suppose, part of his personal property being already "brought to the hammer!" the clattering clamour of the wheel precluding him from hearing the careful, but no less effectual taps. i certainly enjoyed the trick, and longed to see the ridiculous issue; but he was so intent upon his sport--so fixed that he did not discover the nature of his real attachment while i remained. doubtless if he were of a quick and sudden temperament, a snatch of his humour rent his broad cloth, and he returned home with a woful tail, and slept not--for his nap was irreparably destroyed! i hate all twaddle; but when i see an old fool, with rod and line, "sitting like patience on a monument," and selling the remnant of his life below cost price in the pursuit of angling,--that "art of ingeniously tormenting,"--a feeling, "more in sorrow than in anger," is excited at his profitless inhumanity. vainly do all the disciples of honest izaak walton discourse, in eulogistic strains, of the pleasure of the sport. i can imagine neither pleasure nor sport derivable from the infliction of pain upon the meanest thing endowed with life. this may be deemed brahminical, but i doubt that man's humanity who can indulge in the cruel recreation and murder while he smiles. "what, heretical sentiments," exclaims some brother of the angle, (now i am an angle, but no angler.) "this fellow hath never trudged at early dawn along the verdant banks of the 'sedgy lea,' and drunk in the dewy freshness of the morning air. his lines have never fallen in pleasant places. he has never performed a pilgrimage to waltham cross. he is, in truth, one of those vulgar minds who take more delight in the simple than the--gentle!--and every line of his deserves a rod!" practice. "sweet is the breath of morn when she ascends with charm of earliest birds."---milton. "well, this is a morning!" emphatically exclaimed a stripling, with a mouth and eyes formed by nature of that peculiar width and power of distension, so admirably calculated for the expression of stupid wonder or surprise; while his companion, elevating his nasal organ and projecting his chin, sniffed the fresh morning breeze, as they trudged through the dewy meadows, and declared that it was exactly for all the world similar-like to reading thomson's seasons! in which apt and appropriate simile the other concurred. "tom's a good fellow to lend us his gun," continued he--"i only hope it ain't given to tricking, that's all. i say, sugarlips, keep your powder dry." "leave me alone for that," replied sugarlips; "i know a thing or two, although this is the first time that ever i have been out. what a scuffling the birds do make"--added he, peeping into the cage which they had, as a precautionary measure, stocked with sparrows, in order that they might not be disappointed in their sport--"how they long to be on the wing!" "i'll wing 'em, presently!" cried his comrade, with a vaunting air--" and look if here ain't the very identical spot for a display of my skill. pick out one of the best and biggest, and tie up a-top of yonder stile, and you shall soon have a specimen of my execution." sugarlips quickly did his bidding. "now--come forward and stand back! what do ye think o' that, ey?" said the sportsman--levelling his gun, throwing back his head, closing his sinister ocular, and stretching out his legs after the manner of the colossus of rhodes--"don't you admire my style?" "excellent!" said sugarlips--"but i think i could hit it." "what?" "why, the stile to be sure." "keep quiet, can't you--now for it--" and, trembling with eagerness, his hand pulled the trigger, but no report followed. "the deuce is in the gun," cried he, lowering it, and examining the lock; "what can ail it?" "why, i'll be shot if that ain't prime," exclaimed sugarlips, laughing outright. "what do you mean?" "i've only forgot the priming--that's all." "there's a pretty fellow, you are, for a sportsman." "well, it's no matter as it happens; for, though 'time and tide wait for no man,' a sparrow tied must, you know. there! that will do." "sure you put the shot in now?" "if you put the shot into dicky as surely, he'll never peck groundsel again, depend on it." again the "murderous tube" was levelled; sugarlips backed against an adjoining wall, with a nervous adhesiveness that evidently proved him less fearful of a little mortar than a great gun! "that's right; out of the way, sugarlips; i am sure i shall hit him this time." and no sooner had he uttered this self-congratulatory assurance (alas! not life-assurance!) than a report (most injurious to the innocent cock-sparrow) was heard in the neighbourhood! "murder!--mur-der!" roared a stentorian voice, which made the criniferous coverings of their craniums stand on end "like quills upon the fretful porcupine." in an instant the sportsman let fall his gun, and sugarlips ran affrighted towards the stile. he found it really "vox et preterea nihil;" for a few feathers of the bird alone were visible: he had been blown to nothing; and, peeping cautiously round the angle of the wall, he beheld a portly gentleman in black running along with the unwieldy gait of a chased elephant. "old flank'em, of the finishing academy, by jingo!" exclaimed sugarlips. "it's a mercy we didn't finish him! why, he must actually have been on the point of turning the corner. i think we had better be off; for, if the old dominie catches us, he will certainly liberate our sparrows, and --put us in the cage!" but, where's the spoil?" "spoil, indeed!" cried sugarlips; "you've spoiled him nicely. i've an idea, tom, you were too near, as the spendthrift nephew said of his miserly uncle. if you can't get an aim at a greater distance, you'd never get a name as a long shot--that's my mind." precept. uncle samson was a six-bottle man. his capacity was certainly great, whatever might be said of his intellect; for i have seen him rise without the least appearance of elevation, after having swallowed the customary half dozen. he laughed to scorn all modern potations of wishy-washy french and rhine wines--deeming them unfit for the palate of a true-born englishman. port, sherry, and madeira were his only tipple--the rest, he would assert, were only fit for finger-glasses! --he was of a bulky figure, indeed a perfect magnum among men, with a very apoplectic brevity of neck, and a logwood complexion,--and though a staunch church-of-england-man, he might have been mistaken, from his predilection for the port, to be a true mussulman. to hear him discourse upon the age of his wines--the 'pinhole,' the 'crust,' the 'bees'-wing,' etc., was perfectly edifying--and every man who could not imbibe the prescribed quantum, became his butt. to temperance and tea-total societies he attributed the rapid growth of radicalism and dissent. "water," he would say, with a sort of hydrophobic shudder, "is only a fit beverage for asses!"--"to say a man could drink like a fish, was once the greatest encomium that a bon-vivant could bestow upon a brother bacchanalian--but, alas! in this matter-of-fact and degenerate age, men do so literally--washing their gills with unadulterated water!--dropsy and water on the chest must be the infallible result! if such an order of things continue, all the puppies in the kingdom, who would perhaps have become jolly dogs in their time, will be drowned! yes, they'll inevitably founder, like a water-logged vessel, in sight of port. these water-drinkers will not have a long reign. they would feign persuade us that 'truth lies at the bottom of a well,'--lies, indeed! i tell you horace knew better, and that his assertion of 'there is truth in wine,' was founded on experience--his draughts had no water-mark in 'em, depend on it." he was a great buyer of choice "pieces," and his cellar contained one of the best stocks in the kingdom, both in the wood and bottle. poor uncle!--he has now been some years "in the wood" himself, and snugly stowed in the family vault! having been attacked with a severe cold, he was compelled to call in the doctor, who sent him a sudorific in three lilliputian bottles; but although he received the advice of his medical friend, he followed shakspeare's, "throw physic to the dogs," and prescribed for himself a bowl of wine-whey as a febrifuge. his housekeeper remonstrated, but he would have his 'whey,' and he died! leaving a handsome fortune, and two good-looking nephews to follow him to the grave. myself and cousin (the two nephews aforesaid) were vast favourites with the old gentleman, and strenuously did he endeavour to initiate us in the art of drinking, recounting the feats of his youth, and his drinking-bouts with my father, adding, with a smile, "but you'll never be a par with, your uncle, ned, till you can carry the six bottles under your waistcoat." my head was certainly stronger than my cousin's; he went as far as the third bottle--the next drop was on the floor! now i did once manage the fourth bottle--but then--i must confess i was obliged to give it up! "young men," would my uncle say, "should practice 'sans intermission,' until they can drink four bottles without being flustered, then they will be sober people; for it won't be easy to make them tipsy--a drunken man i abominate!" example. "you see i make no splash!" there are some individuals so inflated with self-sufficiency, and entertain such an overweaning opinion of their skill in all matters, that they must needs have a finger in every pie. perhaps a finer specimen than old v____, of this genius of egotistic, meddling mortals, never existed. he was a man well-to-do in the world, and possessed not only a large fortune, but a large family. he had an idea that no man was better qualified to bring up his children in the way they should go; and eternally plagued the obsequious tutors of his sons with his novel mode of instilling the rudiments of the latin tongue, although he knew not a word of the language; and the obedient mistresses of his daughters with his short road to attaining a perfection in playing the piano-forte, without knowing a note of the gamut: but what could they say; why, nothing more or less than they were 'astonished;' which was vague enough to be as true as it was flattering. and then he was so universally clever, that he even interfered in the culinary department of his household, instructing the red-elbowed, greasy, grinning cook, in the sublime art of drawing, stuffing, and roasting a goose, for which she certainly did not fail to roast the goose (her master) when she escaped to the regions below. even his medical attendant was compelled to acknowledge the efficacy of his domestic prescriptions of water-gruel and honey in catarrhs, and roasted onions in ear-aches, and sundry other simple appliances; and, in fine, found himself, on most occasions, rather a 'consulting surgeon,' than an apothecary, for he was compelled to yield to the man who had studied buchan's and graham's domestic medicine. and the only consolation he derived from his yielding affability, were the long bills occasioned by the mistakes of this domestic quack, who was continually running into errors, which required all his skill to repair. nay, his wife's mantua-maker did not escape his tormenting and impertinent advice; for he pretended to a profound knowledge in all the modes, from the time of elizabeth to victoria, and deemed his judgment in frills, flounces, and corsages, as undeniable and infallible. of course the sempstress flattered his taste; for his wife, poor soul! she soon had tact enough to discover, had no voice in the business. his eldest son, george, had a notion that he could angle. old v____ immediately read himself up in walton, and soon convinced--himself, that he was perfect in that line, and quite capable of teaching the whole art and mystery. "see, george," said he, when they had arrived at a convenient spot for their first attempt, "this is the way to handle your tackle; drop it gently into the water,--so!" and, twirling the line aloft, he hooked the branches of an overhanging tree!--sagaciously adding, "you see i make no splash! and hold your rod in this manner!" george was too much afraid of his imperious father, to point out his error, and old v____ consequently stood in the broiling sun for a full quarter of an hour, before he discovered that he had caught a birch instead of a perch! a musical festival. matter-of-fact people read the story of orpheus, and imagine that his "charming rocks" and "soothing savage beasts," is a mere fabulous invention. no such thing: it is undoubtedly founded on fact. nay, we could quote a thousand modern instances of the power of music quite as astonishing. one most true and extraordinary occurrence will suffice to establish the truth of our proposition beyond a doubt. molly scraggs was a cook in a first-rate family, in the most aristocratic quarter of the metropolis. the master and mistress were abroad, and molly had nothing to do but to indulge her thoughts; and, buried as she was in the pleasant gloom and quiet of an underground kitchen, nothing could possibly be more favourable to their developement. she was moreover exceedingly plump, tender, and sentimental, and had had a lover, who had proved false to his vows. in this eligible situation and temper for receiving soft impressions, she sat negligently rocking herself in her chair, and polishing the lid of a copper saucepan! when the sweet, mellifluous strains of an itinerant band struck gently upon the drum of her ear. "wapping old stairs" was distinctly recognized, and she mentally repeated the words so applicable to her bereaved situation. "your molly has never proved false she declares," 'till the tears literally gushed from her "blue, blue orbs," and trickled down her plump and ruddy cheeks; but scarcely had she plunged into the very depths of the pathos induced by the moving air, which threatened to throw her into a gentle swoon, or kicking hysterics, when her spirit was aroused by the sudden change of the melancholy ditty, to the rampant and lively tune, with the popular burden of, "turn about and wheel about, and jump jim crow!" this certainly excited her feelings; but, strange to say, it made her leap from her chair, exasperated, as it were, by the sudden revulsion, and rush into the area. "don't, for goodness sake, play that horrid 'chune,'" said molly, emphatically addressing the minstrels. the 'fiddle' immediately put his instrument under his arm, and, touching the brim of his napless hat, scraped a sort of bow, and smilingly asked the cook to name any other tune she preferred. "play us," said she, "'oh! no, we never mention her,' or summat o' that sort; i hate jigs and dances mortally." "yes, marm," replied the 'fiddle,' obsequiously; and, whispering the 'harp' and 'bass,' they played the air to her heart's content. in fact, if one might guess by the agility with which she ran into the kitchen, she was quite melted; and, returning with the remnants of a gooseberry pie and the best part of a shoulder of mutton, she handed them to the musicians. "thanky'e, marm, i'm sure," said the 'bass,' sticking his teeth into the pie-crust. "the mutton 's rayther fat, but it 's sweet, at any rate--" "yes, marm," said the 'fiddle;' "it's too fat for your stomach, i'm sure, marm;" and consigned it to his green-baize fiddle-case. "now," said molly,--"play us, 'drink to me only,' and i'll draw you a mug o' table-ale." "you're vastly kind," said the 'fiddle;' "it's a pleasure to play anythink for you, marm, you've sich taste;" and then turning to his comrades, he added, with a smile--"by goles! if she ain't the woppingest cretur as ever i set eyes on--" the tune required was played, and the promised ale discussed. the 'bass,' with a feeling of gratitude, voted that they should give a parting air unsolicited. "vot shall it be?" demanded the 'harp.' "vy, considering of her size," replied the 'fiddle,' "i thinks as nothink couldn't be more appropriate than 'farewell to the mountain!'" and, striking up, they played the proposed song, marching on well pleased with the unexpected appreciation of their musical talent by the kind, and munificent molly scraggs! the eating house. from twelve o'clock until four, the eating houses of the city are crammed with hungry clerks. bills of fare have not yet been introduced,--the more's the pity; but, in lieu thereof, you are no sooner seated in one of the snug inviting little settles, with a table laid for four or six, spread with a snowy cloth, still bearing the fresh quadrangular marks impressed by the mangle, and rather damp, than the dapper, ubiquitous waiter, napkin in hand, stands before you, and rapidly runs over a detailed account of the tempting viands all smoking hot, and ready to be served up. "beef, boiled and roast; veal and ham; line of pork, roast; leg boiled, with pease pudding; cutlets, chops and steaks, greens, taters, and pease," etc. etc. some are fastidious, and hesitate; the waiter, whose eyes are 'all about him,' leaves you to meditate and decide, while he hastens to inform a new arrival, and mechanically repeats his catalogue of dainties; and, bawling out at the top of his voice, "one roast beaf and one taters," you echo his words, and he straightway reports your wishes in the same voice and manner to the invisible purveyors below, and ten to one but you get a piece of boiled fat to eke out your roast meat. in some houses, new and stale bread, at discretion, are provided; and many a stripling, lean and hungry as a greyhound, with a large appetite and a small purse, calls for a small plate, without vegetables, and fills up the craving crannies with an immoderate proportion of the staff of life, while the reckoning simply stands, "one small plate 6d., one bread 1d., one waiter 1d.;" and at this economical price satisfies the demands of his young appetite. but still, cheap as this appears, he pays it the aggregate, for there are frequently 500 or 600 diners daily at these establishments; and the waiter, who generally purchases his place, and provides glass, cloths, etc. not only makes a 'good thing of it,' but frequently accumulates sufficient to set up on his own account, in which case, he is almost sure of being followed by the regular customers. for he is universally so obliging, and possesses such a memory, and an aptness in discovering the various tastes of his visitors, that he seldom fails in making most of the every-day feeders his fast friends. "tom, bring me a small plate of boiled beef and potatoes," cries one of his regulars. placing his hand upon the table-cloth; and knocking off the crumbs with his napkin, he bends to the gentleman, and in a small. confidential voice informs him, "the beef won't do for you, sir,--it's too low, it's bin in cut a hour. fine ribs o' lamb, jist up." "that will do, tom," says the gratified customer. "grass or spinach, sir? fine 'grass,'--first this season." "bring it, and quick, tom," replies the gentleman, pleased with the assiduous care he takes in not permitting him to have an indifferent cut of a half cold joint. the most extraordinary part of the business is, the ready manner in which he 'casts up' all you have eaten, takes the reckoning, and then is off again in a twinkling. a stranger, and one unaccustomed to feed in public, is recognised in a moment by his uneasy movements. he generally slinks into the nearest vacant seat, and is evidently taken aback by the apparently abrupt and rapid annunciation of the voluble and active waiter, and, in the hurry and confusion, very frequently decides upon the dish least pleasant to his palate. a respectable gentleman of the old school, of a mild and reverend appearance, and a lean and hungry figure, once dropped into a settle where we were discussing a rump steak and a shallot, tender as an infant, and fragrant as a flower garden! tom pounced upon him in a moment, and uttered the mystic roll. the worthy senior was evidently confused and startled, but necessity so far overcame his diffidence that he softly said, "a small portion of veal and ham, well done." tom, whirled round, continuing the application of his eternal napkin to a tumbler which he was polishing, bawled out in a stentorian voice, "plate o' weal, an' dam well done!" we shall never sponge from the slate of our memory the utter astonishment expressed in the bland countenance of the startled old gentleman at this peculiar echo of his wishes. scene x.(b) "this is a werry lonely spot, sir; i wonder you ar'n't afeard of being robbed." job timmins was a tailor bold, and well he knew his trade, and though he was no fighting man had often dress'd a blade! quoth he, one day--"i have not had a holiday for years, so i'm resolv'd to go and fish, and cut for once the shears." so donning quick his sunday's suit, he took both rod and line, and bait for fish--and prog for one, and eke a flask of wine. for he was one who loved to live, and said--"where'er i roam i like to feed--and though abroad, to make myself at home." beneath a shady grove of trees he sat him down to fish, and having got a cover, he long'd much to get a dish. he cast his line, and watch'd his float, slow gliding down the tide; he saw it sink! he drew it up, and lo! a fish he spied. he took the struggling gudgeon off, and cried--"i likes his looks, i wish he'd live--but fishes die soon as they're--off the hooks!" at last a dozen more he drew-(fine-drawing 'twas to him!) but day past by--and twilight came, all objects soon grew dim. "one more!" he cried, "and then i'll pack, and homeward trot to sup,"-but as he spoke, he heard a tread, which caused him to look up. poor timmins trembled as he gazed upon the stranger's face; for cut purse! robber! all too plain, his eye could therein trace. "them's werry handsome boots o' yourn," the ruffian smiling cried, "jist draw your trotters out--my pal-and we'll swop tiles, besides." "that coat too, is a pretty fit-don't tremble so--for i von't rob you of a single fish, i've other fish to fry." poor timmins was obliged to yield hat, coat, and boots--in short he was completely stripp'd--and paid most dearly for his "sport." and as he homeward went, he sigh'd-"farewell to stream and brook; o! yes, they'll catch me there again a fishing--with a hook!" gone! along the banks, at early dawn, trudged nobbs and nobbs's son, with rod and line, resolved that day great fishes should be won. at last they came unto a bridge, cried nobbs, "oh! this is fine!" and feeling sure 'twould answer well, he dropp'd the stream a line. "we cannot find a fitter place, if twenty miles we march; its very look has fix'd my choice, so knowing and--so arch!" he baited and he cast his line, when soon, to his delight, he saw his float bob up and down, and lo! he had a bite! "a gudgeon, tom, i think it is!" cried nobbs, "here, take the prize; it weighs a pound--in its own scales, i'm quite sure by its size." he cast again his baited hook, and drew another up! and cried, "we are in luck to-day, how glorious we shall sup!" all in the basket tommy stow'd the piscatory spoil; says nobbs, "we've netted two at least, albeit we've no toil." amazed at his own luck, he threw the tempting bait again, and presently a nibble had-a bite! he pull'd amain! his rod beneath the fish's weight now bent just like a bow, "what's this?" cried nobbs; his son replied, "a salmon, 'tis, i know." and sure enough a monstrous perch, of six or seven pounds, he from the water drew, whose bulk both dad and son confounds. "o! gemini!" he said, when he "o! pisces!" should have cried; and tremblingly the wriggling fish haul'd to the bridge's side. when, lo! just as he stretched his hand to grasp the perch's fin, the slender line was snapp'd in twain, the perch went tumbling in! "gone! gone! by gosh!" scream'd nobbs, while tom too eager forward bent, and, with a kick, their basket quick into the river sent. the practical joker.--no. i. those wags who are so fond of playing off their jokes upon others, require great skill and foresight to prevent the laugh being turned against themselves. jim smith was an inveterate joker, and his jokes were, for the most part, of the practical kind. he had a valuable tortoiseshell cat, whose beauty was not only the theme of praise with all the old maids in the neighbourhood, but her charms attracted the notice of numerous feline gentlemen dwelling in the vicinity, who were, nocturnally, wont to pay their devoirs by that species of serenades, known under the cacophonous name of caterwauling. one very ugly tom, (who, it was whispered abroad, was a great--grandfather, and scandalously notorious for gallantries unbecoming a cat of his age) was particularly obnoxious to our hero; and, in an unlucky moment, he resolved to 'pickle him,' as he facetiously termed it. now his process of pickling consisted in mixing a portion of prussic acid in milk. taking the precaution to call in his own pet and favorite, he placed the potion in the accustomed path of her long-whiskered suitor. tom finding the coast clear slipped his furry body over the wall, and dropped gently as a lady's glove into the garden, and slily smelling the flower-borders, as if he were merely amusing himself in the elegant study of botany, stealthily approached the house, and uttering a low plaintive 'miau,' to attract the attention of his dear minx, patiently awaited the appearance of his true-love. minx heard the voice she loved so well, and hurried to meet her ancient beau. a slight noise, however, alarmed his timidity, and he scaled the wall in a twinkling. presently the screams of the maid assured him that 'something had taken place;' and when he heard the words, "oh! the cat! the cat!" he felt quite certain that the potion had taken effect. he walked deliberately down stairs, and behold! there lay miss minx, his own favorite, struggling in the agonies of death, on the parlor rug. the fact is, he had shut the doors, but forgotten that the window was open, and the consequence was, the loss of poor minx, who had drunk deep of the malignant poison designed for her gallant. this was only one of a thousand tricks that had miscarried. having one day ascertained that his acquaintance, tom wilkins, was gone out 'a-shooting,' he determined to way-lay him on his return. it was a beautiful moonlight night in the latter end of october. disguising himself in a demoniac mask, a pair of huge wings, and a forked tail, he seated himself on a stile in the sportsman's path. anon he espied the weary and unconscious tom approaching, lost in the profundity of thought, and though not in love, ruminating on every miss he had made in that day's bootless trudge. he almost, touched the stile before his affrighted gaze encountered this 'goblin damned.' his short crop bristled up, assuming the stiffness of a penetrating hair brush. for an instant his whole frame appeared petrified, and the tide and current of his life frozen up in thick-ribbed ice. jim smith, meanwhile, holding out a white packet at arm's length, exclaimed in a sepulchral tone, "d'ye want a pound of magic shot?" the practical joker.--no. ii. awfully ponderous as the words struck upon the tightened drum of tom's auriculars, they still tended to arouse his fainting spirit. "mer-mer-mercy on us!" ejaculated he, and shrank back a pace or two, still keeping his dilating optics fixed upon the horrible spectre. "d'ye want a pound of magic shot?" repeated jim smith. "mur-mur-der!" screamed tom; and, mechanically raising his gun for action of some kind appeared absolutely necessary to keep life within him, he aimed at the tempter, trembling in every joint. jim, who had as usual never calculated upon such a turning of the tables, threw off his head--his assumed one, of course, and, leaping from the stile, cried aloud-"oh! tom, don't shoot--don't shoot!--it's only me--jim smith!" down dropped the gun from the sportsman's grasp. "oh! you fool! you--you--considerable fool!" cried he, supporting himself on a neighbouring hawthorn, which very kindly and considerately lent him an arm on the occasion. "it's a great mercy--a very great mercy, jim--as we wasn't both killed!--another minute, only another minute, and--but it won't bear thinking on." "forgive me, tom," said the penitent joker; "i never was so near a corpse afore. if i didn't think the shots were clean through me, and that's flat." "sich jokes," said tom, "is onpardonable, and you must be mad." "i confess i'm out of my head, tom," said jim, who was dangling the huge mask in his hand, and fast recovering from the effects of his fright. "depend on it, i won't put myself in such a perdicament again, tom. no, no--no more playing the devil; for, egad! you had liked to have played the devil with me." "a joke's a joke," sagely remarked tom, picking up his hat and fowling piece. "true!" replied smith; "but, i think, after all, i had the greatest cause for being in a fright. you had the best chance, at any rate; for i could not have harmed you, whereas you might have made a riddle of me." "stay, there!" answered tom; "i can tell you, you had as little cause for fear as i had, you come to that; for the truth is, the deuce a bit of powder or shot either was there in the piece!" "you don't say so!" said jim, evidently disappointed and chop-fallen at this discovery of his groundless fears. "well, i only wish i'd known it, that's all!"--then, cogitating inwardly for a minute, he continued--"but, i say, tom, you won't mention this little fright of yours?" "no; but i'll mention the great fright--of jim smith--rely upon it," said tom, firmly; and he kept his word so faithfully, that the next day the whole story was circulated, with many ingenious additions, to the great annoyance of the practical joker. fishing for whiting at margate. "here we go up--up--up; and here we go down--down--down." "variety," as cowper says, "is the very spice of life"--and certainly, at margate, there is enough, in all conscience, to delight the most fastidious of pleasure-hunters. there sailors ply for passengers for a trip in their pleasure boats, setting forth all the tempting delights of a fine breeze--and woe-betide the unfortunate cockney who gets in the clutches of a pair of plyers of this sort, for he becomes as fixed as if he were actually in a vice, frequently making a virtue of necessity, and stepping on board, when he had much better stroll on land. away he goes, on the wings of the wind, like--a gull! should he be a knave, it may probably be of infinite service to society, for he is likely ever afterwards to forswear craft of any kind! donkies too abound, as they do in most watering placesand, oh! what a many asses have we seen mounted, trotting along the beach and cliffs! the insinuating address of the boatmen is, however, irresistible; and if they cannot induce you to make a sail to catch the wind, they will set forth, in all the glowing colors of a dying dolphin, the pleasurable sport of catching fish! they tell you of a gentleman, who, "the other day, pulled up, in a single hour, i don't know how many fish, weighing i don't know how much." and thus baited, some unwise gentleman unfortunately nibbles, and he is caught. a bargain is struck, 'the boat is on the shore,' the lines and hooks are displayed, and the victim steps in, scarcely conscious of what he is about, but full well knowing that he is going to sea! they put out to sea, and casting their baited hooks, the experienced fisherman soon pulls up a fine lively whiting. "ecod!" exclaims the cockney, with dilated optics, "this is fine--why that 'ere fish is worth a matter of a shilling in london--do tell me how you cotched him." "with a hook!" replied the boatman. "to be sure you did--but why did'nt he bite mine?" "'cause he came t'other side, i s'pose." "vell, let me try that side then," cries the tyro, and carefully changes his position.--"dear me, this here boat o'yourn wobbles about rayther, mister." "nothing, sir, at all; it's only the motion of the water." "i don't like it, tho'; i can tell you, it makes me feel all over somehow." "it will go off, sir, in time; there's another," and he pulls in another wriggling fish, and casts him at the bottom of the boat. "well, that's plaguey tiresome, any how--two! and i've cotched nothin' yet--how do you do it?" "just so--throw in your hook, and bide a bit--and you'll be sure, sir, to feel when there's any thing on your hook; don't you feel any thing yet?" "why, yes, i feels werry unwell!" cries the landsman; and, bringing up his hook and bait, requests the good-natured boatman to pull for shore, 'like vinkin,'--which request; the obliging fellow immediately complies with, having agreeably fished at the expense of his fare; and, landing his whitings and the flat, laughs in his sleeve at the qualms of his customer. but there is always an abundant crop of such fools as he, who pretend to dabble in a science, in utter ignorance of the elements; while, like jason of old, the wily boatman finds a sheep with a golden fleece,--although his brains are always too much on the alert to be what is technically termed--wool-gathering. some people are desirous of seeing every thing; and many landsmen have yet to learn, that they may see a deal, without being a-board! by the internet archive four hundred humorous illustrations by john leech with portrait and biographical sketch. 1868 biographical sketch. john leech was born in london, on the 29th august, 1817. his father, john leech, was an irishman, a man of fine culture, and a good shakespearean scholar. he was the landlord of the london coffee house on ludgate hill, one of the most important of the city hotels at that time. for a while the father was successful in his vocation, but ultimately, through financial embarrassment, was obliged to give up the hotel. the father was a man of real ability, possessing considerable skill with the pencil, and from him, no doubt, the son inherited his special talent. and, again, on the mother's side there was relationship with the great scholar richard bentley, so that on both sides of the house young leech had considerable advantages so far as mental heredity was concerned. at a very early age the mother observed the extraordinary aptitude for drawing that her boy possessed, and did all in her power to encourage it. when young leech was only three years old, he was found by the family friend, the great artist, flaxman, seated on his mother's knee, drawing with much gravity. the sculptor pronounced his sketch to be remarkable, and gave the following advice:--"do not let him be cramped with lessons in drawing, but let his genius follow its own bent. he will astonish the world." a few years after this, some more of the youthful artist's drawings were shown to the celebrated sculptor, and, after examination, he said--"the boy must be an artist; he will be nothing else or less." at seven, the boy was sent to charterhouse. this early departure from home was, of course, a sore trial to the fond mother, who was bound up in her child, but, knowing that it was for her son's future welfare, she threw no obstacles in the way of his departure from home. she was, however, resolved that somehow she would see her child frequently. with this object she hired a room in one of the houses commanding a view of the playground, and there frequently she sat behind a blind, happy in getting an occasional glimpse of her boy--sometimes at play, and sometimes strolling about in the grounds with his school mates. during his stay of nine years at charterhouse, the boy did not distinguish himself in classical studies. indeed, all that can be said, is that he acquired a thoroughly sound english education. he was, however, liked by everyone at school for his good temper and winning ways. among his fellow pupils was the famous william makepeace thackeray, with whom he formed a warm friendship that lasted throughout life. at sixteen years of age, young leech left charterhouse, and, notwithstanding flaxman's advice that the boy should follow the profession of an artist, his father put him to the medical profession at st. bartholomew's, under mr stanley, the surgeon of the hospital. after a time he was placed under mr whittle, an eccentric practitioner at hoxton, and subsequently under dr john cockle, afterwards physician to the royal free hospital. throughout his various situations, young leech become famous among his fellow students and friends for his extremely clever--and, at the same time, always good-natured--caricatures. he was for ever drawing scenes, characters, and incidents in daily life. about this time, young leech's liking for horses probably received its first development, through his friendship with mr charles adams. mr adams was the owner of two horses which it was his delight to drive tandem fashion, and in his excursions leech was his constant companion. to this circumstance we are, no doubt, partially indebted for many of the clever bits of driving and country road life depicted by the pencil of the artist. at this early period of his career, leech made numerous life friendships with men who afterwards became distinguished. notable among these men were albert smith and percival leigh. at eighteen years of age, leech published his first work, entitled "etchings and sketchings by a. pen, esq." it was a small work of four quarto sheets. as he got more and more engrossed in artistic work, the young student seems to have gradually given up his medical studies, and to have resolved to live by his pencil. in course of time he turned his attention to lithography, and, having drawn pictures upon lithographic stones, he has been known to spend many a weary day in carrying such heavy stones from publisher to publisher in search of a buyer. but as his fame increased, the difficulty of getting remunerative employment rapidly diminished. a good deal of leech's early work, among other things, was in connection with _bell's life in london_, the best-known sporting paper of the time. here he was associated with cruikshank, madons, "phiz," and seymour. it was when at work for _bell's life_ that he first imbibed a taste for field sports, which developed into a strong feature in his pictorial career. he joined the hounds in herefordshire, where millais became his fellow pupil in acquiring the arts of the chase. among the schemes of drollery that our artist participated in about this time was the _comic latin grammar_, leigh contributing the text, and leech the illustrations. this was followed by the _comic english grammar_, and likewise by the _children of the mobility_, a parody on a well-known work devoted to the serious glorification of our juvenile aristocracy. but in august of 1841 leech began the great work of his life--a work, indeed, which he never quitted but with life--namely, his connection with _punch_. the first number of _punch_ was issued on the 17th july, 1841, and leech's first contribution to it appeared on the 7th august, in the fourth number. for about twenty years, it may be said, he was its leading spirit, and, by his contributions to its pages, got in all about £40,000. political caricatures he produced by the score, and held up to ridicule many of the absurd customs of the pretensious and exclusive sections of society. like thackeray and dickens, leech detested snobbery in all walks of life, and depicted it unsparingly in a way that it never had been dealt with before. week after week there flowed from his pencil an endless stream of scenes of high life and low life, of indoor life and street life, now of england, and then of foreign lands, and of all times, seasons, and occasions, as also numerous scenes of deer-stalking and fishing, and of horses and hounds, in all cases depicting whatever he undertook with extraordinary accuracy combined with infinite humour. also, when social or national wrong called for grave censure, leech knew how to administer it, not only without giving unnecessary offence, but in the way best calculated to bring about reform and redress. in all circumstances he was essentially a humorist, and he found his most genial vocation in depicting life and character in the social circles he frequented. as a keen observer of the everyday life around him, he delighted to depict the corporation magnate, the artist, the medical student, the spendthrift, the policeman, the cab driver, the coster, the carman, and hundreds of other such phases of everyday life and character, seeing humour and drollery where others failed to observe anything but the commonest aspects of everyday monotony. of course it should not be forgotten that, if leech did great things for _punch_, his connection with that journal gave him great opportunities, and brought him into the very forefront of british artists. he was considered the most successful humorist of the day, and his pencil was in constant request. in the course of years he became the illustrator of about eighty volumes. when it is realised that the sketches in _punch_ and the illustrations in these eighty volumes combined amount to some thousands in number, the mind is much impressed with the great amount of industry and application that leech displayed throughout life. even a tour to the highlands, or to ireland, or an outing to any portion of the country, was at all times turned to practical account for work later on. this incessant brain-work produced an extreme nervous sensitiveness. in this state he was much affected by noise and was literally driven from his house in brunswick square by street music. he removed to kensington, where he hoped to obtain a release from this annoyance by adopting a device of double windows. but he had no peace. he often introduced in the pages of _punch_ the barrel-organ nuisance. the public, however, at that time had no idea what these sketches from real life cost the artist. in 1864, leech was ordered to take a holiday on the continent. upon his return to his london home in the autumn of the same year, although better in health, he was still strangely susceptible to noise. he spoke with more than his usual earnestness about the sufferings which the street organs gave him, and about the smallness of the sympathy which he received from people who had no weakness in the same direction. this extraordinary sensitiveness to noise was only a secondary phase or symptom of the real ailment. the real malady from which he suffered was breast-pang, or spasms of the heart, a form of angina pectoris. although it was necessary to warn leech against all excitement, riding, quick walking, or overwork, it was not supposed that he was in immediate danger, and, if he could only find rest and quiet, great hopes were entertained of his recovery. however, the sad end came when quite unexpected. in the morning of the 29th of october, 1864, he spoke hopefully of the future to his wife. in a few hours afterwards he whispered into the same living ear--"i am going," and fell into his father's arms in a faint. three hours afterwards he expired. the news of his death went over the country with a dismal shock; for in what house was john leech not an inmate in one form or another? leech was tall, with an elegant figure, over six feet in height, graceful and gentlemanly in manner, with a fine head and a handsome face. in action he was nimble, vigorous, and yet gentle, capable of the heartiest mirth, and 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comments and poems, published in the london charivari, during the american civil war (1861-1865) edited by william s. walsh author of "a handbook of literary curiosities," "curiosities of popular customs," "faust, the legend and the poem," etc. new york moffat, yard and company 1909 copyright 1909, by william s. walsh new york published march 1909 list of illustrations page the american juggernaut _frontispiece_ divorce a vinculo 12 the american difficulty 14 the american gladiators 14 naughty jonathan 20 how they went to take canada 20 a family quarrel 20 king cotton bound 22 the genu-ine othello 26 over the way 28 the wilful boy 33 a likely story 34 look out for squalls 40 a bad case of throwing stones 42 waiting for an answer 42 columbia's fix 42 boxing day 46 "up a tree" 46 naughty jonathan 48 oberon and titania 50 the new orleans plume 52 the "sensation" struggle in america 54 the latest from america 56 one good turn deserves another 58 "not up to time" 60 lincoln's two difficulties 60 more free than welcome 60 the overdue bill 62 abe lincoln's last card 64 latest from spirit-land 64 scene from the american "tempest" 64 "beware" 66 the great "cannon game" 70 "rowdy" notions of emancipation 72 brutus and cæsar 74 the black conscription 74 john bull's neutrality 76 scylla and charybdis 79 the storm-signal 84 extremes meet 86 "beecher's american soothing syrup" 88 "holding a candle to the ****" 97 neutrality 98 something for paddy 98 very probable 98 mrs. north and her attorney 106 columbia's sewing-machine 106 the black draft 109 the federal ph[oe]nix 109 grand transformation scene 109 the threatening notice 109 vulcan in the sulks 109 the american gladiators--habet! 111 brittania sympathises with columbia 111 peace 112 abraham lincoln and the london punch "tell me what a man laughs at, and i will tell you what he is," was one of goethe's pregnant apothegms. laughter, one of the chief lines of cleavage between man and beast, is one of the chief points of differentiation between man and man. from the good-natured banter which kins all the world to the envenomed sneer that sunders it, laughter runs the whole gamut of human emotions. it is always sincere, even in its own despite. no subterfuge, when subterfuge underlies it, is more easily unmasked. a man may smile and smile and be a villain, but villainy by the seeing eye can be infallibly detected beneath the smile. a counterfeit laugh may be uttered, as counterfeit coin is uttered, but it does not ring true. its baseness reveals itself to more senses than one. now for more than sixty years the recognized organ of british laughter has been the london _punch_. the contemporary mood of john bull towards brother jonathan has always voiced itself through the grinning lips of this chartered jester. it cannot be said that even before the outbreak of the civil war _punch_ had shown itself friendly to america or americans. why should it? the british mob disliked us and flouted us. _punch_ as the mouthpiece of the mob, followed suit. in the original prospectus of that journal, issued in 1845, it was expressly announced that the paper was to be devoted in part to "yankee yarns," to "the naturalization of those alien jonathans whose adherence to the truth has forced them to emigrate from their native land." it would appear from this new crook-backed daniel come to judgment, that ananias and autolycus were models of punctilious honesty and meticulous truthfulness compared with the average american. [illustration: divorce a vinculo. mrs. carolina asserts her right to "larrup" her nigger.] writing from boston to sir edward head, in 1854, george ticknor said: "i am much struck with what you say about the ignorance that prevails in england, concerning this country and its institutions, and the mischief likely to spring from it. from _punch_ up to your leading statesmen, things are constantly said and done out of sheer misapprehension, or ignorance, that have for some time been breeding ill-will here, and are likely to breed more." [illustration: the american difficulty. president abe. "what a nice white house this would be, if it were not for the blacks!"] up to, and even immediately after the war, _punch's_ sympathies professedly leaned towards the north, though it took occasion to lecture both sides from the standpoint of a disinterested and superior friend, who saw that neither side was absolutely and unconditionally right. when the news of the secession of south carolina reached england, in january, 1861, john tenniel contributed a cartoon to the jester's pages entitled: "divorce a vinculo" with the explanatory subtitle "mrs. carolina asserts her rights to 'larrup' her nigger." mrs. carolina was represented as a vulgar virago holding a cat-o-nine tails in her right hand, and shaking her clenched left fist in the face of a serenely defiant youth, clad in a star-spangled shirt, to whom a little brat of a nigger appealed with clasped hands. [illustration: "cæsar imperator!" or, the american gladiators.] in the same number the following poem breathed a similar anti-secession sentiment. secession and slavery secede, ye southern states, secede, no better plan could be, if you of niggers would be freed, to set your niggers free. runaway slaves by federal law at present you reclaim; so from the union straight withdraw and play the free soil game. what, when you've once the knot untied, will bind the northern men? and who'll resign to your cow-hide the fugitives again? absquatulate, then, slick as grease, and break up unity, or take your president in peace and eat your humble pie. but if your stomachs proud disdain that salutary meal and you, in passion worse than vain, must rend the commonweal, then all mankind will jest and scoff at people in the case of him that hastily cut off his nose to spite his face. later, _punch_ applauded that portion of abraham lincoln's first inaugural, which dealt with the question of secession. the comminuted states who can say where secession will stop? that is a question which is raised by mr. lincoln, in a part of his inaugural address, directed to enforce upon fools and madmen the necessity of acquiescence by minorities in the decision of majorities. the president tells the frantic portion of his fellow countrymen that:- "there is no alternative for continuing the government but acquiescence on one side or the other. if a minority in such a case will secede rather than acquiesce, they make a precedent which in turn will ruin and divide them, for a minority of their own will secede from them whenever a majority refuses to be controlled by such a minority. for instance, why may not any portion of a new confederacy, a year or two hence, arbitrarily secede again, precisely as portions of the present union now claim to secede from it? all who cherish disunion sentiments are now being educated to the exact temper of doing this." the force of this simple reasoning will be seen by the lunatics to whom it is addressed, during their lucid intervals, if they have any. it may even be hoped that some of them may recover the use of their reflecting faculties so far as to be enabled to follow out president lincoln's argument, and their own folly, into ultimate consequences and conclusions. then they will see what is likely to be the end of secession, for it is not quite true that there is no end to secession, and the end of secession will be for the secessionists an end of everything. seceders will go on seceding and subseceding, until at last every citizen will secede from every other citizen, and each individual will be a sovereign state in himself, self-government personified, a walking autonomy, a lone star, doing business and supporting itself off its own hook. [illustration: naughty jonathan. "you shan't interfere, mother--and you ought to be on my side--and it's a great shame--and i don't care--and you shall interfere--and i won't have it."] when the seceding states were in search of a name, _punch_ suggested that of slaveownia, and when at the convention held february 9, 1861, at montgomery, alabama, they adopted the title of the confederate states of america, _punch_ reopened his battery in this fashion: [illustration: how they went to take canada. "for the outrage offered in the queen's proclamation, the united states will possess itself of canada,"--new york herald.] "the southern secessionists must be admitted to be blessed with at least the philosophical virtue of self-knowledge. they term this new league the 'confederate states of america'; thus they call themselves by what they doubtless feel to be their right name. they are confederates in the crime of upholding slavery. a correct estimate of their moral position is manifest in that distinctive denomination of theirs, 'confederate states.' this title is a beautiful antithesis to that of the united states of america. the more doggedly confederate slave mongers combine, the more firmly good republicans should unite." [illustration: september 28, 1861. a family quarrel] once more when reviewing jefferson davis' message to the confederate congress, _punch_ recognized that slavery was really the bone of contention between the two sections: the just and holy cause of slavery "we feel," says president jefferson davis, in his message to the secessional congress, "that our cause is just and holy." could not the negroes of the southern states, if they rose against their masters, say just as much, with at least equal justice, for their own insurrection? the less mr davis says about justice and holiness the better, if he does not want to preach a dangerous doctrine, besides being considered a humbug. "dash holiness, and justice be blanked!" is the consistent language for mr. jefferson davis. "might is right; we expect to thrash the northerners; and the institution of slavery for ever!" again, when general beauregard declared in a proclamation to the south that "unborn generations would arise and call them blessed," _punch_ declared that the reporters, with their proverbial inaccuracy, had omitted the concluding word "rascals." [illustration: king cotton bound; or, the modern prometheus.] yet even now, it appealed to both sections to restrain their hands from flying at each other's throats: ode to the north and south o jonathan and jefferson, come listen to my song; i can't decide, my word upon, which of you is most wrong. i do declare i am afraid to say which worse behaves, the north, imposing bonds on trade, or south, that man enslaves. and here you are about to fight, and wage intestine war, not either of you in the right: what simpletons you are! too late your madness you will see, and when your passion cools, "snakes!" you will bellow, "how could we have been such 'tarnal fools!" one thing is certain; that if you blow out each other's brains, 'twill be apparent what a few each blockhead's skull contains. you'll have just nothing for your cost, to show, when all is done. greatness and glory you'll have lost; and not a dollar won. oh, joined to us by blood, and by the bond of kindred speech, and further, by the special tie of slang, bound each to each, all-fired gonies, softhorn'd pair, each other will you lick? you everlastin' dolts, forbear! throw down your arms right slick. you'll chaw each other up, you two, like those kilkenny cats, when they had better things to do, improvin' off the rats. now come, shake hands, together jog on friendly yet once more; whip one another not: and flog creation, as before! still again, _punch_ showed good feeling in admonishing lord palmerston, after firing on sumter, to keep great britain neutral. [illustration: the genu-ine othello. othello. "keep up your bright swords, for de dew will rust dem. · · · · both you ob my inclining, and de rest."] "well pam," says mr. punch to his workman, "of course i shall keep you on, but you must stick to peace-work." nor could the north object to the cartoon, in may, 1861, in which lincoln made his first appearance in _punch_. the face, faithfully limned from the early beardless photographs, represented him as a man of clean-cut intelligent features,--in marked contrast to the bearded ruffian, a repulsive compound of malice, vulgarity and cunning which john tenniel's pencil subsequently delighted to give to the world as a counterfeit presentment of the president of the united states. in this first picture lincoln is represented as poking the fire and filling the room with particles of soot, saying with downcast look: "what a nice white house it would be, if it were not for the blacks." [illustration: over the way. mr. bull. "oh! if you two like fighting better than business, i shall deal at the other shop."] nevertheless, the poem with which _punch_ greeted the news of the fall of fort sumter was not calculated to arouse kindly sentiments in the north. ink, blood and tears (the taking of fort sumter.) a forty hours' bombardment! great guns throwing their iron hail: shells their mad mines exploding: furnaces lighted: shot at red-heat glowing: shore-battr'ies and fort-armament, firing, loading- war's visible hell let loose for forty hours, and all her devils free to use their powers- and yet not one man hit, her flag when sumter lowers. "oh, here's a theme!" quoth punch, of brag abhorrent, "'twixt promise and performance rare proportion! this show-cloth, of live lions, giving warrant, masking some mangy, stunted, stuffed abortion: these gorgeous covers hiding empty dishes, these whale-like antics among little fishes- here is the very stuff to meet my dearest wishes. what ringing of each change on brag and bluster! these figures huge of speech, summed in a zero: this war-march, ushering in _bombastes'_ muster: this entry of _tom thumb_, armed like a hero. of all great cries e'er raised o'er little wool, of all big bubbles by fools' breath filled full, sure here's the greatest yet, and emptiest, for john bull! john always thought jonathan, his young brother, a little of a bully; said he swaggered: but in all change of chaff with one another, nor john nor jonathan was e'er called 'laggard.' but now, if john mayn't jonathan style 'coward,' he _may_ hint stripes and stars were better lowered from that tall height to which, till now, their flag-staff towered." _punch_ nibbed his pen, all jubilant, for galling- when suddenly a weight weighed down the feather, and a red liquid, drop by drop, slow falling, came from the nib; and the drops rolled together, and steamed and smoked and sung--"not ink, but blood; drops now, but soon to swell into a flood, perchance e'er summer's leaf has burst spring's guarding bud. blood by a brother's hand drawn from a brother- and they by whom 'tis ta'en, by whom 'tis given, are both the children of an english mother; once with that mother, in her wrath, they've striven: was't not enough, that parricidal jar, but they must now meet in fraternal war? if such strife draw no blood shall england scoff therefore? if she will laugh, through thee, her chartered wit, use thou no ink wherewith to pen thy scoff: we'll find a liquor for thy pen more fit- we blood drops--see how smartly thou'lt round off point, pun and paragraph in this new way: till men shall read and laugh, and, laughing, say, 'well thrust! _punch_ is in vein: 'tis his red-letter day.'" the weight sat on my quill: i could not write; the red drops lustered to my pen--in vain; i had my theme--"brothers that meet in fight, yet shed no blood!"--my jesting mood turned pain. i thought of all that civil love endears, that civil strife breaks up and rends and sears, and lo! the blood-drops in my pen were changed to tears! and for the hoarse tongues that those bloody gouts had found, or seemed to find, upon my ears came up a gentle song in linkèd bouts, of long-drawn sweetness--pity breathed through tears. and thus they sang--"'twas not by chance, still less by fraud or fear, that sumter's battle came and closed, nor cost the world a tear." [illustration: the wilful boy. jonathan. "i will fight--i will have a =national debt= like other people"] it was the southern victory of bull run and the northern policy of blockade that finally and definitely changed the attitude of england and of _punch_. the victory gave hopes that the confederates might be successful in overturning a hated and dreaded republic; the blockade aroused fears that the pocket of the british manufacturer might be damaged. all pretence of love for the negro was swallowed up by these more potent and more personal emotions. [illustration: a likely story. captain jonathan, f.n. "jist look'd in to see if thar's any rebels he-arr." mr. bull. "oh, indeed!--john! look after the plate-basket, and then fetch a policeman."] on november 2, 1861, in a cartoon and an accompanying poem _punch_ sought to put its commercial anxiety on an altruistic plane. here is the poem: king cotton bound; or, the new prometheus. far across atlantic waters groans in chains a giant king; like to him, whom ocean's daughters wail around in mournful ring, in the grand old grecian strains of prometheus in his chains! needs but fancy's pencil pliant both to paint till both agree; for king cotton is a giant, as prometheus claimed to be. each gave blessings unto men, each dishonour reaped again. from the gods to sons of clay if prometheus brought the flame, who king cotton can gainsay, should he equal honour claim? fire and life to millions giving, that, without him, had no living. and if they are one in blessing, so in suffering they are one; both, their captive state confessing, freeze in frost and scorch in sun: that, upon his mountain chain, this, upon his parching plain. nor the wild bird's self is wanting- either giant's torment sore; if prometheus writhed, while panting heart and lungs the vulture tore, so columbia's eagle fierce, doth king cotton's vitals pierce. on those wings so widely sweeping in its poise the bird to keep, see, if you can see for weeping. "north" and "south" are branded deep- on the beak all reeking red, on the talons blood-bespread! but 'tis not so much the anguish of the wound that rends his side, makes this fettered giant languish, as the thought how once, in pride, that great eagle took its stand, gently on his giant hand! how to it the meat he'd carry in its mew to feed secure; how he'd fling it on the quarry, how recall it to the lure, make it stoop, to his caresses, hooded neck and jingling jesses. and another thought is pressing, like hot iron on his brain- millions that would fain be blessing, ban, e'en now, king cotton's name. oh, that here those hands are bound, which should scatter wealth around! "not this eagle's screaming smothers that sad sound across the sea- wailing babes and weeping mothers, wailing, weeping, wanting me. hands that i would fain employ, hearts that i would fill with joy! "i must writhe--a giant fettered,- while those millions peak and pine; by my wealth their lot unbettered, and their suffering worse than mine. for they know that i would fain help their need, were't not my chain! "but _i_ know not where to turn me for relief from bonds and woe; frosts may pinch and suns may burn me, but for rescue--none i know, save the millions i have fed, should they rise for lack of bread- "saying, 'we will brook no longer, that king cotton bound should be: be his gaolers strong, _we_'re stronger, in our hunger o'er sea- more for want, than love, uprisen, we are come to break his prison!' "welcome even such releasing, fain my work i'd be about: soon would want and wail be ceasing, were king cotton once let out- though all torn and faint and bleeding, millions still i've strength for feeding." [illustration: look out for squalls. jack bull. "you do what's right, my son, or i'll blow you out of the water."] then came an episode which did for the moment set john bull and _punch_ on a nobler basis. all during the trent affair--when the united states was obviously wrong in arresting the confederate commissioners, mason and slidell, on board an english ship--the tenniel cartoons rose to the higher level of just indignation. [illustration: a bad case of throwing stones. _mr bull._ "now mind you, sir--no shuffling--an ample apology--or i put the matter into the hands of my lawyers, messrs. whitworth and armstrong."] even now, however, _punch_ was unable or unwilling to see the magnanimity of abraham lincoln's apology for an error not his own. [illustration: waiting for an answer.] this was all the more unjust because _punch_ was both able and willing to discriminate between the level-headed men of the north and the jingoes, as this extract will show. [illustration: columbia's fix. columbia. "which answer shall i send?"] our dear brother jonathan this delightful ebullition of fervent brotherly love has most fittingly appeared in a philadelphia paper:- "it may be, in view of all these grave considerations and the sad necessities of the case, that, in order to avoid a war which could only end in our discomfiture, the administration may be compelled to concede the demands of england, and perhaps release messrs. mason and slidell. god forbid!--but in a crisis like this we must adapt ourselves to stern circumstances, and yield every feeling of pride to maintain our existence. if this contingency should ever arise--and i am only speculating upon a disagreeable possibility--then let us swear, not only to ourselves but our children who come after us, to repay this greedy, insolent, and cowardly power with the retribution of a just and fearful vengeance. if england in our time of distress makes herself our foe, and offers to be our assassin, we will treat her as a foe when we can do so untrammeled and unmenaced by another enemy." "greedy, insolent, and cowardly," these are nice fraternal terms; and what a truly loving spirit is evinced by swearing "fearful vengeance" upon the "assassin," and handing to posterity the keeping of the oath! no whit less affectionate in feeling is what follows:- "if we do concede the demands of england, however, it will only be because we desire to crush this rebellion, as a duty we owe to mankind. it will be because we prefer to master the great evil, and do not wish to be alienated from our duty by an international and comparatively unimportant quarrel; it will be because we prefer national salvation to the gratification of any feeling of national pride. it will be a great act of self-denial. but when we come from this rebellion it will be with a magnificent army, educated and organised, and with the sense of this wrong weighing upon them. it will be with a navy competent to meet any navy upon the globe. it will be for us then to remember how england was our enemy in the day of our misfortune, and to make that remembrance a dark and fearful page of her history, and an eternal memory of our own." that these are the opinions of most people in america nobody on this side of the atlantic will believe. but that there are roughs and rowdies in the states, who as they have nothing they can lose by war are always full of bluster and warlike in their talk, this may any one in england very easily conceive. of course it is to please them that such stuff as we have quoted is stuck in yankee newspapers; and our sole surprise is that the journals which admit it find it pays them so to do. the rowdies as a rule are not overflushed with wealth and can ill afford to spend their coppers upon literature, which, the chances are, they scarcely would know how to read. [illustration: boxing day. mr punch. "now then! which end will you have, jonathan?"] for the benefit of the american jingoes _punch_ on december 7th, issued the following warning, with an appropriate cartoon: [illustration: "up a tree." colonel bull and the yankee 'coon. 'coon. "air you in arnest, colonel?" colonel bull. "i am." 'coon. "don't fire--i'll come down."] a warning to jonathan; or, "doth he wag his tail?" jonathan, jonathan, 'ware of the lion: he's patient, he's placable, slow to take fire: there are tricks which in safety a puppy might try on, but from dogs of his _own_ size they waken his ire. with your bounce and your bunkum you've pelted him often, good humoured he laughed as the missiles flew by, hard words you've employed, which he ne'er bid you soften, as knowing your tallest of talk all my eye. when you blustered he still was content with pooh-poohing, when you flared up he just let the shavings burn out: he knew you were fonder of talking than doing, and lions for trifles don't put themselves out. but beware how you tempt even leonine patience, or presume the old strength has forsaken his paw: he's proud to admit you and he are relations, but even relations may take too much law. if there's one thing he values, 'tis right of asylum; safe who rests 'neath the guard of the lion must be: in that shelter the hard-hunted fugitive whilome must be able to sleep the deep sleep of the free. then think twice, and think well, ere from guard of the lion those who seek his protection you try to withdraw: though stowell and wheaten and kent you rely on, there are points on which lions won't listen to jaw. remember in time the old tale of the showman, who his head in the mouth of the lion would sheath, till with lengthened impunity, bold as a roman, he seemed to forget that the lion had teeth. but the time came at last, when all risks madly scorning, he went just too far down that road rough and red, when, with only one wag of his tail for a warning, snap went leo's jaws, and off went barnum's head! [illustration: naughty jonathan. mrs britannia. "there, john! he says he is very sorry, and that he didn't mean to do it--so you can put this back into the pickle-tub."] this was followed up on december 14th, with one of tenniel's finest cartoons, that entitled "waiting for an answer." [illustration: oberon and titania. oberon (mr. president lincoln) "i do but beg a little =nigger= boy, to be my henchman." titania (miss virginia) "set your heart at rest, the =northern= land buys not the child of me."] two amusing bits of doggerel appeared in the same number, one representing the british nation's view of the international episode. mrs. durden on the american difficulty "them there nasty good-for-nothing yankees!" cried old mrs. durden, "worrits me to that degree, it makes my life almost a burden. board our mail and seize our passengers, the ribbles! goodness, gracious! like their imperence to be sure; 'tis that what makes 'em so owdacious. "what next now i wonder, captain?" answer captain skipper made, "well ma'am, our next move, i fancy, will be breaking their blockade." "blockhead! ah!" exclaimed the lady. "truer word was never spoken. drat the blockheads, all says i; may every head on 'em be broken!" the other is a bit of broad fun, in mockery of the profuse volumes of smoke and sound which were emitted by yankee fire-eaters. [illustration: the new orleans plum. big lincoln horner, up in a corner, thinking of humble pie; found under his thumb, a new orleans plum, and said, what a cute yankee am i!] a voice from washington _from our special correspondent_ we yankees ain't given to brag; john bull, we expect, has no notion of going to war; but his flag if he does, we shall sweep from the ocean and when the old vagabond lies in a state of teetotal prostration, old ireland in glory will rise, independence to win as a nation. our breadstuffs from england kept back, the sequel must be destitution. her famishing millions, in lack of food, will force on revolution. victoria will have to retire; aristocracy, friends of secession, will be hurled down, and trod in the mire; no more for to practise oppression. rebellion we'll bring to an end, the slaves 'mongst our heroes dividing, or arms to the niggers we'll lend, to give their darned masters a hiding. work up all our cotton at home, let not one more bale be exported, have the world at our feet, like old rome, by the kings of the airth as was courted. want money? i reckon not we; a national debt we'll create, twice as heavy as yourn, which will be, for samsons like we air, no weight. on government bonds we shall borrow any money in europe with ease. why london and paris, to-morrow will lend us as much as we please. foreign goods we shall purchase with paper, which let foreign usurers hold; the british may swagger and vapour, at home whilst we keep all our gold. as belmont to seward has written, any stock may in europe be "placed," and the chance, if the rothschilds ain't bitten, will be by the barings embraced. we've twice before whipped all creation, we've now got to whip it again. we air a remarkable nation of modest, but resolute men. john bull, then, allow us to kick you, and don't go resenting the act, or into a cocked hat we'll lick you, yes, sir-ree, you old hoss, that's a fact. [illustration: the "sensation" struggle in america.] the manly and tactful apology which represented the feeling of the better sort of folk in america, and which was wrung from a reluctant cabinet by abraham lincoln, softened for a moment the asperity of our old antagonist. the following rather amiable verses were written in anticipation of the amicable settlement which already (january 11, 1862), seemed probable: [illustration: the latest from america; or, the new york "eye-duster," to be taken every day.] a fair offer from john bull to miss columbia shall we kiss and be friends? why not? sister columbia, no more ugly faces let you and me pull; though we both have our tempers, our worries and troubles, let "bygones be bygones" for me, says john bull. you must own that you've given me a deal of bad language, and have been far too free with your bunkum and brag; _that_ i'll pocket, if now, like a sensible woman, you'll disclaim your friend wilkes, and salute the old flag. fools may sneer and call family feelings all humbug, but i feel that one blood in the veins of us flows: our tongues are the same, though i don't like your fashion of talking, (as you'd make _me_ pay) through the nose. we snarled and we scratched, in the days of our folly, when you wanted to leave me and start for yourself; to think of those times makes me quite melancholy--- the blood that we wasted----the temper and pelf! when i vowed that i'd tame you, and make you knock under, and you dared me and bit, like a vixen as well; i did think by this time we had both seen our blunder; meant to live as good friends and in peace buy and sell. but of late i can't think what the deuce has come o'er you: first, you turn your own house out of window, and then, declare that _i_ want to o'erreach you and floor you, stop my ships, seize my passengers, bully my men! i can stand a great deal from my own blood-relations, and i know that your troubles your temper have soured; but i can't take a blow, in the face of all nations, and consent to see law by brute force overpowered. only own your friend wilkes is a blundering bully, and make over mason and slidell to me, and all that is past, i'll condone, fair and fully, kiss you now, and in future, i _do_ hope, agree! [illustration: one good turn deserves another. old abe. "why i du declare it's my dear old friend sambo! course you'll fight for us, sambo. lend us a hand, old hoss, du!"] yet lincoln, the peacemaker of the occasion, got little credit from _punch_, which, indeed, began now to pursue him with unremitting invective. the gorilla-like caricature of lincoln's features makes its first appearance in a cartoon wherein this repulsive face is joined to a raccoon's body. the "coon" is shown up a tree, colonel bull, standing below, has drawn a bead on him with his gun. "air you in earnest, colonel?" asks the coon. "i am," replies the mighty bull. "don't fire," says the coon, "i'll come down." [illustration: "not up to time;" or, interference would be very welcome.] even lincoln's proclamation emancipating the slaves in the seceding states did not soften the asperity of the old-time anti-slavery advocate. _punch_ feigned to see in this message only the ruse of a wily combatant driven to a last resource. this idea is put into a quatrain, as follows: the american chess-players although of conquest yankee north despairs, his brain for some expedient wild he racks, and thinks that having failed on the white squares, he can't do worse by moving on the blacks. [illustration: lincoln's two difficulties. lin. "what? no money! no men!"] under the heading "one good turn deserves another," old abe is shown extending musket, sword and knapsack to a negro who refuses to be cajoled by his honeyed words. [illustration: more free than welcome--a prospective fix. _nigger._ "now den, massa jonathan, what you goin' to do wid dis child? eh?"] "why i do declare," says abe, "it's my dear old friend, sambo! course you'll fight for us, sambo. lend us a hand, old hoss, do." [illustration: the overdue bill. mr. south to mr. north. "your 'ninety days' promissory note isn't taken up yet, sirree!"] the same jibe finds vent in the following poems: abe's last card; or, rouge-et-noir brag's our game: and awful losers we've been on the _red_. under and above the table, awfully we've bled. ne'er a stake have we adventured, but we've lost it still, from bull's run and mad manassas, down to sharpsburg hill. when luck's desperate, desperate venture still may bring it back: so i'll chance it--neck or nothing- here i lead the black! if i win, the south must pay for't, pay in fire and gore: if i lose, i'm ne'er a dollar worse off than before. from the slaves of southern rebels thus i strike the chain: but the slaves of loyal owners still shall slaves remain. if their owners like to wop 'em, they to wop are masters; or if they prefer to swop 'em, here are our shin-plasters! there! if that 'ere proclamation does its holy work, rebeldom's annihilation it did oughter work: back to union, and you're welcome each to wop his nigger: if not, at white let slip darky- guess i call that vigour! [illustration: abe lincoln's last card; or, rouge-et-noir.] in september, 1862, the two combatants are represented as sinking exhausted into the arms of negro backers, who are vainly attempting to put them on their feet. in the background stands a self-important eagle arrayed in the napoleonic uniform and a biped lion dressed in a sack coat and an air of conscious superiority. [illustration: latest from spirit-land. ghost of king george iii. "well, mr. washington, what do you think of your fine republic now, eh?--what d'ye think? what d'ye think, eh?" ghost of mr. washington. "humph!"] says the eagle to the lion, "don't you think we ought to fetch the police?" the legend under the cartoon runs, "not up to time, or interference would be very welcome." [illustration: scene from the american "tempest." caliban (sambo). "_you_ beat him 'nough, massa! berry little time, i'll _beat him too_."--shakspeare. (_nigger translation._)] in the following january comes a well imagined cartoon entitled "the latest from spirit land," showing the bluff and kindly ghost of george iii trying to enter into conversation with the stiffly stupid ghost of mr. washington. "well, mr. washington," says george, "what do you think of your fine republic now, eh? what d'ye think? what d'ye think, eh?" to which mr. washington retorts with an inarticulate "humph!" in may of 1863 a cartoon entitled "the great cannon game" shows abe lincoln playing billiards with jeff davis. it is the latter's shot. "hurrah for charleston!" he cries; "that's another to me." abe lincoln mutters in an aside, "darned if he ain't scored ag'in! i wish i could make a few winning hazards for a change." [illustration: "beware!" keeper. "he ain't asleep, young jonathan, so you'd best not irritate him".] an accompanying article entitled "the great american billiard match" is amusing enough when read to-day in the light of the great "winning hazards" that were to be made by abe within less than sixty days. "considerable excitement," it runs, "has been caused in sporting circles by this long protracted match, which, owing to the style of play adopted by the parties, appears to make but very little progress toward a finish. the largeness of the stakes depending on the contest might be supposed to make the players careful in their strokes, but few expected that the game would last so long as it has done, and no one now dare prophesy when it will be finished. it having been resolved to play the cannon game, some anxiety at first was not unreasonably felt among the backers of jeff davis, the crack player for the south; but the knowing ones, who knew their man, made no attempt to hedge, notwithstanding what was said about his being out of play and, in the cannon game especially, somewhat overmatched. it is needless to remark here that the first strokes which he made quite justified their confidence, and, indeed, throughout the game he has done nothing yet to shake it, so that if he have but a fair amount of luck, his backers feel assured that he won't easily be beaten, and an extra fluke or two might make him win the match. "as for old abe lincoln, the champion player of the north, his backers, we believe, are as confident as ever that he is the best man, although at times his play has not appeared to prove it. there is no doubt that he has more strength at his command, but strength is of small use without knowing how to use it. abe lincoln may have skill, but he has not yet shown much of it; and certainly he more than once has shown himself outgeneralled. his backers say he purposely is playing a slow game, just to draw out his opponent and see what he can do. in ninety days, they say, he is cocksure of a victory, but this is an old boast, and nobody except themselves now places any faith in it. abe's famous bull run stroke was a bad start to begin with, and his charleston break has ended in his having to screw back, and thus slip into balk to save himself from mischief. how the game will end we won't pretend to prophesy. there are plenty of good judges, who still appear inclined to bet in favor of the south and longish odds are offered that the game will be a drawn one. abe's attempt to pot the niggers some put down as a foul stroke, but whether foul or not, it added little to his score. upon the whole we think his play has not been much admired, although his backers have been vehement in superlatively praising it. there is more sympathy for the south, as being the weaker side--a fact which jeff's supporters indignantly deny, and which certainly the north has not done much as yet toward proving. without ourselves inclining one way or the other, we may express a neutral hope that the best player may win; and we certainly shall echo the desire of all who watch the game if we add that the sooner it is now played out the better." [illustration: the great "cannon game." abe lincoln (aside). "darn'd if he ain't scored ag'in!--wish i could make a few _winning_ hazards for a change."] the boasted "neutrality" was put to a rather severe test when, in less than "ninety days," the victory of which abe's backers were "cock sure" proved a double barrelled one at vicksburg, in mississippi, and at gettysburg, in pennsylvania. the news of these tremendous events set all the federal states of america shouting with triumph on the succeeding fourth of july. there were no international cables in those days. consequently it was not until two weeks later that the news reached england. in the interim, on that very july 4, certain northern americans in london, all unconscious of what had happened, celebrated their national anniversary almost in earshot of the _punch_ office to the great disgust of the gentlemen on its staff. [illustration: "rowdy" notions of emancipation. "the mob on the corner, below my house, had hung up a negro to the lamp-post. in mockery, a cigar was placed in his mouth. * * * for hours these scared negroes poured up twenty-seventh street, passing my house. * * * one old negro, 70 years old, blind as a bat, and such a cripple that he could hardly move, was led along by his equally aged wife with a few rags they had saved, trembling with fright, and not knowing where to go."--manhattan's _letter in the standard, july 30th._] "there is something peculiarly graceful," [snarls punch in the issue for july 18th], "in celebrating independence day in london. 'the britishers whipped all the world and we whipped the britishers,' used to be the established formula of yankee self-glorification. it is the yankees' belief that they accomplished their secession from england by simple conquest; triumphant superiority in arms. to hold the anniversary of successful insurrection, not to say rebellion, in the very den of the british lion, treading on his tail and gently poking him with a playful boot tip, is to compliment that noble animal with credit for some magnanimity. the british residents in paris would hardly have the confiding generosity and the taste in like manner to celebrate the return day of the battle of waterloo in the french capital. "we pause here to ask whether the confederates do not, as they reasonably may, repeat the yankee boast above quoted with brag additional? have they not begun to say, 'the britishers whipped all the world, the yankees whipped the britishers and we whipped the yankees'? not yet, perhaps. averse to indulgence in premature exultation, they may reserve that saying for independence day no. 2." in conclusion _punch_ makes this comment on the fact that in honor of the anniversary the flag of the united states had been hoisted on the summit of certain buildings, "shouldn't it have been hoisted halfmast high?" the answer came in the form of a thunderous negative with the next mail from america. [illustration: brutus and cæsar. (from the american edition of shakspeare.) _the tent of_ brutus (lincoln). _night. enter the ghost of_ cæsar. _brutus._ wall, now! do tell! who's you? _cæsar._ i am dy ebil genus, massa linking. dis child am awful inimpressional.] thereafter _punch_ lost his supreme interest in the great civil war. he made no allusions to gettysburg or to vicksburg. the "neutral hope" was painfully dampened by northern triumphs. his commercial sympathy was all with the losing side. the wish was father to the not very neutral thought that the negro might prove the undoing of his northern allies. on august 15 appeared a cartoon entitled "brutus and cæsar, from the american edition of shakespeare." to the tent of brutus (lincoln) enters at night the ghost of cæsar, a black spectre. this colloquy occurs:- brutus--wall, now, do tell! who's you? cæsar--i am dy ebil genius, massa linking. dis child am awful inimpressional. [illustration: the black conscription. "when black meets black then comes the end (?) of war."] in october appeared a cartoon headed with unconscious satire, "john bull's neutrality." john bull standing with his arms akimbo in the doorway of his shop is glaring defiantly at two bad boys, clad respectively in federal and in confederate uniforms, who slink away before his glance and drop the stones they were preparing to hurl at his windows. [illustration: john bull's neutrality. "look here, boys, i don't care twopence for your noise, but if you throw stones at my windows, i must _thrash you both_."] "look here, boys," says john, "i don't care twopence for your noise, but if you throw stones at my windows i must thrash you both." the same moral is enforced in the following poem:- mr. bull to his american bullies hoy, i say you two there, kicking up that row before my shop! do you want a good sound licking both? if not, you'd better stop. peg away at one another, if you choose such fools to be: but leave me alone; don't bother, bullyrag and worry me! into your confounded quarrel! let myself be dragged i'll not by you, fighting for a merrill tariff; or your slavery lot. what i want to do with either is impartially to trade: nonsense i will stand from neither past the bounds of gasconade. you north, roaring, raving, yelling, hold your jaw, you booby, do; what, d'ye threaten me for selling arms to south, as well as you? south, at me don't bawl and bellow, that won't make me take your part; so you just be off, young fellow: now, you noisy chap, too, start! to be called names 'tis unpleasant; words, however, break no bones: i control myself at present; but beware of throwing stones! i won't have my windows broken, mind, you brawlers, what i say, see this stick, a striking token; cut your own, or civil stay. in a succeeding cartoon _punch_ called for a separation between the fighters, for now, said he, "dis-union is strength." another cartoon hails the fraternization--reported to have taken place between negroes bearing the flags of the rival armies--with the epigram "when black meets black then comes the end of war." [illustration: scylla and charybdis, or the modern ulysses.] henry ward beecher's visit to england, in the autumn of 1863, is celebrated by a cartoon and by a poem in which due praise is given to the vigor of his oratory and to the excellence of his intentions. britisher to beecher alas! what a pity it is, parson beecher, that you came not at once when secession broke out, as abraham lincoln's apostle, a preacher of the union; a gospel which englishmen doubt; for that union, you see, was a limb of our tree: its own branches to break themselves off are as free. still, beecher, if you had been only sent hither, when at first the palmetto flag flouted the sky, commissioned foul slavery's faction to wither, and this nation invoke to be freedom's ally, with your eloquent art you had won england's heart; we were fully disposed towards taking your part. instead of a reverend beecher, appealing to our conscience, in liberty's name, for the right, we heard a cool scoundrel advise in the stealing of britannia's domains, north and south to unite; and your papers were full of abuse of john bull; whilst he bore the blockade which withheld cotton wool. malevolence, taking our ill-will for granted, has reviled us, pursued us with bluster and threat, supposing itself the remembrance had planted in our bosom of wrongs which we couldn't forget, and should take, in its case of misfortune, as base a revenge as itself would have ta'en in our place. tirades against england, with menace of slaughter, never yet have your sumners, and such, ceased to pour, your bards talk of blowing us out of the water, and threaten to "punish john bull at his door." now this isn't the way to make englishmen pray that the yankees may finish by gaining the day. an afterthought only is "justice to niggers;" 'tis a cry which those yankees raised not till they found that they for a long time had been pulling triggers, at their slaveholding brothers, and gained little ground. first abe lincoln gave out that he'd fain bring about, the re-union with slavery too, or without. so don't waste your words in attempts at persuasion, which impose on no britain alive but a fool, but husband your breath for another occasion, that is, beecher, keep it your porridge to cool. "strictly neutral will i still remain standing by." says britannia: "d'ye see any green in my eye?" [illustration: the storm-signal. we know not whence the storm may come, but its coming's in the air, and this is the warning of the drum, against the storm, prepare!] later, _punch_ published this: adieu to mr. beecher mr. beecher has left us; he has sailed for america, where he can tell his congregation just what he likes, but where he will, we are sure, tell messrs. lincoln and seward the exact truth, namely that large numbers of the uneducated classes crowded to hear a celebrated orator, and that the press has been very good-natured to him. also, we hope he will say, because he knows it, that the educated classes are at the present date just as neutral in the matter of the american quarrel as they were before the reverend gentleman's arrival. having duly stated these facts to the president and the minister, mr. beecher may put them in any form he pleases before the delightful congregation, whose members pay £40 a-year, each, for pews. and to show that we part with him in all good nature, we immortalise his witty allusion to ourselves in his farewell speech:- "i know my friend _punch_ thinks i have been serving out 'soothing syrup' to the british lion. (_laughter._) very properly the picture represents me as putting a spoon into the lion's ear instead of his mouth; and i don't wonder that the great brute turns away very sternly from that plan of feeding." (_renewed laughter._) a gentler criticism upon us could not be, and we scorn to retort that, having a respect for anatomy, we did not make the lion's ear large enough to hold the other spoon depicted in that magnificent engraving. for the reverend beecher is not a spoon, whatever we may think of his audiences in england. and so we wish him good-bye, and plenty of greenbacks and green believers. [illustration: extremes meet. _abe._ imperial son of nicholas the great, we air in the same fix, i calculate, you with your poles, with southern rebels i, who spurn my rule and my revenge defy. _alex._ vengeance is mine, old man; see where it falls, behold yon hearths laid waste, and ruined walls, yon gibbets, where the struggling patriot hangs, whilst my brave myrmidons enjoy his pangs.] the re-election of abraham lincoln, in november, 1864, called forth a grotesque and unpleasant caricature of lincoln as the "federal ph[oe]nix." it was accompanied by these verses: the federal ph[oe]nix when herodotus, surnamed "the father of history" (we are not informed who was history's mother), went a travelling to egypt, that region of mystery, where each step presented some marvel or other, in a great city there, called (in greek) heliopolis, the priests put him up to a strange story--rather- of a bird, who came up to that priestly metropolis, once in five hundred years, to inter its own father. when to filial feeling apparently callous, not a plume ruffled (as _we_ should say, not a hair rent), in a _pot-pourri_ made of sweet-spice, myrrh, and aloes, he flagrantly, burnt, after burying, his parent. but pomponius mela has managed to gather of this curious story a modified version, in which the bird burns up itself, not its father, and soars to new life from its fiery immersion. this bird has oft figured in emblems and prophecies- and though snyders ne'er painted its picture, nor weenix its portraits on plates of a well-known fire-office is, which, after this bird's name, is christened the ph[oe]nix. henceforth a new ph[oe]nix, from o'er the atlantic, our old fire-office friend from his brass-plate displaces; with a plumage of greenbacks, all ruffled, and antic in old abe's rueful phiz and old abe's shambling graces. as the bird of arabia wrought resurrection by a flame all whose virtues grew out of what fed it, so the federal ph[oe]nix has earned re-election by a holocaust huge of rights, commerce, and credit. [illustration: "beecher's american soothing syrup." "if i have said anything against england, i'll stick to it. * * * when i look not to the sentiments of popular assemblies, but to such significant acts as the detention of those rams at liverpool (_cheers_); when i look to such weighty words as those spoken by earl russell at glasgow, and by the attorney general at richmond * * * i feel that the two nations are still one in the cause of civilisation, of religion, and i trust we shall continue to be one in international policy, and one in every enterprise."--_rev. ward beecher at exeter hall._] on december 10th, _punch_ published this brutal burlesque anticipation of that noble speech made by president lincoln at his second inauguration, which has now taken its due rank among the great masterpieces of forensic english: president lincoln's inaugural speech _(by ultramarine telegraph)_ well, we've done it, gentlemen. bully for us. cowhided the copperheads considerable. _non nobis_, of course, but still i reckon we have had a hand in the glory, some. that reminds me of the old world story about the hand of glory, which i take to have been the limb of a gentleman who had been justified on the gallows, and which the witches turned into a patent moderator lamp, as would lead a burglar safe into any domicile which he might wish to plunder. we ain't burglars, quite t'other, but i fancy that if uly grant could get hold of that kind and description of thing to help him into richmond, he'd not be so un-christian proud as to refuse the hand of a malefactor. (_right, right!_) well, right or left hand, that's no odds, gentlemen. (_laughter._) now i am sovereign of the sovereign people of this great and united republic for four years next ensuing the date hereof, as i used to say when i was a lawyer. (_you are! bully for you!_) yes, gentlemen, but you must do something more than bully for me, you must fight for me, if you please, and whether you please or not. as the old joke says, there's no compulsion, only you must. must is for the king, they say in the rotten old world. well, i'm king, and you shall be viceroys over me. but i tell you again, and in fact i repeat it, that there's man's work to do to beat these rebels. they _may_ run away, no doubt. as the irishman says, pigs may fly, but they're darned onlikely birds to do it. they must be well whipped, gentlemen, and i must trouble you for the whipcord. (_you shall have it!_) rebellion is a wicked thing, gentlemen, an awful wicked thing, and the mere nomenclating thereof would make my hair stand on end, if it could be more standonender than it is. (_laughter._) truly awful, that is when it is performed against mild, free, constitutional sway like that of the white house, but of course right and glorious when perpetrated against ferocious, cruel, bloodthirsty old tyrants like george the third. we must punish these rebels for their own good, and to teach them the blessings of this mighty and transcendental union. (_we will, we will!_) all very tall talking, gentlemen, but talking won't take richmond. if it would, and there had been six richmonds in the field, we should long since have took them all. if richmond would fall like jericho, by every man blowing of his own trumpet, we've brass enough in our band for that little feat in acoustics. but when a cow sticks, as grant does, in the mud, how then? (_great laughter._) incontestably, gentlemen, this great and mighty nation must give her a shove on. shove for richmond, gentlemen. (_that's the talk!_) now about these eternal blacks, you expect me to say something touching them, though i suppose we're none of us too fond of touching them, for reasons in that case made and provided, as i used to say. well, listen. we've got them on our hands, that's a fact, and it reminds me of a nigger story. two of these blacks met, and one had a fine new hat. "where you got dat hat, sambo?" says t'other. "out ob a shop, nigger," says sambo. "'spex so," says t'other, "and what might be the price ob dat hat?" "can't say, zactly, nigger, the shopkeeper didn't happen to be on the premises." (_laughter._) well, we've got the niggers, and i can't exactly say--or at least i don't think you'd like to hear--what might be the price of those articles. but we must utilise our hats, gentlemen. we must make them dig and fight, that's a fact. there's no shame in digging, i suppose. adam digged, and he is a gentleman of older line than any of the bloated and slavish aristocracies of europe. and as for fighting, they must feel honoured at doing that for the glorious old flag that has braved for eighty-nine years and a-half, be the same little more or less, the battle and the breeze. (_cheers._) yes, and when the rebellion's put down, we'll see what's to be done with them. perhaps if the naughty boys down south get uncommon contrite hearts, we may make them a little present of the blacks, not as slaves, of course, but as legal apprentices with undefined salaries determinable on misconduct. (_cheers._) meantime, gentlemen, i won't deny that the niggers are useful in the way of moral support. they give this here war a holy character, and we can call it a crusade for freedom. a man may call his house an island if he likes, as has been said by one of those fiendish british writers who abuse our hospitality by not cracking us up. (_war with england!_) well, all in good time, gentlemen. let our generals learn their business first. i don't blame them, mind you, that they haven't learned it yet, for when a man has kept a whiskey-store, or a bar, or an oyster-cellar, or an old-clothes' shop for years, he can't be expected, merely because he puts on a uniform, to become a hannibal or a napoleon, or even a marlborough or a wellington. likewise, they must learn to keep reasonable sober. friends at a distance will please accept this intimation. (_roars of laughter._) when that's done, and the rebels are whipped, and we are in want of more fighting, we'll see whether richmond in england, where the queen's palace of windsor castle is situate lying and being, is a harder nut to crack than richmond nearer us. (_cheers._) gentlemen, one thing more. did you ever hear the story of the farmer who had been insulted by an exciseman? "he wur so rude," said the farmer, "that i wur obliged to remonstrate with him." "and to what effect did you remonstrate?" asked a friend. "well i don't know about effect, but i bent the poker so that i was obliged to get a hammer to straighten it." gentlemen, we must straighten this glorious union, and the hammer is taxes. (_laughter._) you may laugh, but you must pay. i don't mean to be hard upon this mighty nation, and our friend mr. cobden (_cheers_) has already indirectly informed the besotted masses of british slaves that we intend to repudiate our greenbacks, except to the amount they may be worth in the market when redeemed. but the poker wants a deal of hammering, nevertheless, and you must pay up. you'll hear more about this from a friend of mine in the government, so i only give you the hint, as the man said when he kicked his uncle down-stairs. (_laughter._) i believe that's about all i had to say, and this almighty union will be conserved to shine through the countless ages an ineffable beacon and symbol of blessed and everlasting light and glory if you will only mind the proverb of sancho panza, which says, "pray to god devoutly, and hammer on stoutly." (_laughter, cheers, and cries of "bully for you!"_) [illustration: "holding a candle to the *****" (much the same thing.]) on april 15, 1865, came a cartoon, a really superb one, which is sometimes reckoned tenniel's masterpiece, entitled "habet!" it represents the combatants as gladiators before the enthroned and imperial negroes ("ave cæsar!"). [illustration: neutrality. mrs. north. "how about the _alabama_ you wicked old man?" mrs. south. "where's my rams? take back your precious consuls--there!!!"] but in sentiment at least a nobler was to come, the affecting picture of britannia's tribute and _punch's_ amende, called simply "abraham lincoln, foully assassinated april 14, 1865." [illustration: something for paddy. o'connell's statue (loq). "it's a _repaler_ ye call yourself, ye spalpeen, and you're goin' to die for the _union_."] the accompanying verses, by tom taylor, not, as has sometimes been asserted, by shirley brooks, were a complete recantation for former misunderstanding and wrongdoing. they will bear quoting again:-[illustration: very probable. lord punch. "that was jeff davis, pam! don't you recognise him?" lord pam. "hm! well, not exactly--may have to do so some of these days."] abraham lincoln _foully assassinated april, 14, 1865_ you lay a wreath on murdered lincoln's bier, you, who with mocking pencil wont to trace broad for the self-complacent british sneer his length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, his gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair, his garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease; his lack of all we prize as debonair, of power or will to shine, of art to please. you, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, judging each step, as though the way were plain; reckless, so it could point its paragraph of chief's perplexity or people's pain. beside this corps, that beats for winding sheet the stars and stripes he lived to rear anew, between the mourners at his head and feet, say, scurril-jester, is there room for you? yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer, to lame my pencil, and confute my pen- to make me own this hind of princes peer, this rail-splitter a true-born king of men. my shallow judgment i had learnt to rue, noting how to occasion's height he rose, how his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true, how, iron-like, his temper grew by blows. how humble yet how hopeful he could be; how in good fortune and in ill the same; nor bitter in success, nor boastful he, thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. he went about his work--such work as few ever had laid on head and heart and hand- as one who knows where there's a task to do man's honest will must heaven's good grace command: who trusts the strength will with the burden grow, that god makes instruments to work his will, if but that will we can arrive to know, nor tamper with the weights of good and ill. so he went forth to battle on the side that he felt clear was liberty's and right's, as in his peasant boyhood he had plied his warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights- the uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, the iron back, that turns the lumberer's axe; the rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil, the prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks, the ambushed indian, and the prowling bear- such were the needs that helped his youth to train: rough culture--but such trees large fruit may bear if but their stocks be of right girth and grain. so he grew up, a destined work to do, and lived to do it; four long-suffering years' ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report lived through, and then he heard the hisses change to cheers, the taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise, and took both with the same unwavering mood: till, as he came on light from darkling days and seemed to touch the goal from where he stood, a felon hand, between the goal and him, reached from behind his back, a trigger prest- and those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest. the words of mercy were upon his lips, forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, when this vile murderer brought swift eclipse to thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men. the old world and the new, from sea to sea, utter one voice of sympathy and shame! sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high, sad life, cut short just as its triumph came. a deed accurst! strokes have been struck before by the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt if more of horror or disgrace they bore; but thy foul crime, like cain's, stands darkly out. vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife, whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven; and with the martyr's crown crownest a life with much to praise, little to be forgiven! [illustration: mrs. north and her attorney. mrs. north. "you see, mr. lincoln, we have failed utterly in our course of action; i want peace, and so, if you cannot effect an amicable arrangement, i must put the case into other hands."] from that time forward _punch_ took seriously to heart the lesson he had taught himself, and his relations with brother jonathan were thereafter of a very different and a far more cordial kind. [illustration: columbia's sewing-machine. mrs. britannia. "ah, my dear columbia, it's all very well; but i'm afraid you'll find it difficult to join _that_ neatly."] that these verses made a profound impression in the united states is undoubted. it has even been opined that they were largely instrumental in preventing an imminent war between great britain and the united states. [illustration: the black draft.] perhaps the effect would have been less if we on this side had known how grudgingly the amende was offered. mr. a. h. layard in his recent "life of shirley brooks" has invited us to take a peep behind the _punch_ curtain. he shows that the editorial staff of the paper was divided in the matter, shirley brooks leading the opposition against the publication of the poem. in brooks' diary mr. layard discovered the following entry:-"dined _punch_. all there. let out my views against some verses on lincoln in which t. t. (tom taylor) had not only made p. eat humble pie, but swallow dish and all." [illustration: the federal ph[oe]nix.] [illustration: grand transformation scene for the end of the year 1864.] [illustration: the threatening notice. attorney lincoln. "now uncle sam, you're in a darned hurry to serve this here notice on john bull. now, it's my duty, as your attorney, to tell you that you _may_ drive him to go over to that cuss, davis----" (_uncle sam considers._)] [illustration: vulcan in the sulks. britannia. "if you turn sulky, and won't make my armour, how shall i be able to resist mars?"] [illustration: the american gladiators--habet!] [illustration: britannia sympathises with columbia.] [illustration: peace. mr. punch's design for a colossal statue, which ought to have been placed in the international exhibition]. * * * * * * transcriber's note: (1) spelling, punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected, with the exception of those which occur in the illustrations and text copied directly from "punch". (2) the cartoons have been left in chronological order, ignoring their possible relevance to surrounding text. (3) to avoid irritating breaks for the reader, illustrations have been moved to the nearest end of a paragraph, poem or quotation. the page numbers in the list of illustrations have been adjusted accordingly, as far as page 100. the remaining illustrations, being beyond the end of the text, have been given arbitrary page numbers to assist any reader trying to locate them. http://www.archive.org/details/ourbattalionbein00rave our battalion [illustration] by l. raven-hill. "punch" office 10, bouverie street london e.c. our battalion. [illustration] [illustration: the whitefriars press.] bradbury, agnew & co., ltd., printers, london and tonbridge. [illustration: 3 a.m. _sentry_: "sunrises are all bloomin' fine in their way, but i'd rather be in bed."] our battalion being some slight impressions of his majesty's auxiliary forces, in camp and elsewhere. by l. raven-hill. _"an' you're sent to penny-fights an' aldershot it."_ rudyard kipling. london: "punch" office, 10, bouverie st., e.c. 1902. [_all rights reserved._] contents. page recruits 9 on instructin' 14 the system 19 on the g.o.c. 28 the seven ages of the volunteer 32 what might happen 34 the lost patrol 47 camp diaries: no. 1. lt.-col. sir digby sandilands, m.p. 59 no. 2. capt. and adjt. "jerry" benson 66 no. 3. 2nd lieutenant fitzgerald lawless 78 no. 4. pte. timothy simmons 93 blank cartridges 102 illustrations. page 3 a.m. _frontispiece._ the "manual" 13 not to be trifled with 17 flag-wagging 18 our first puttie parade 24-25 field training 27 the firing exercise 35 our review 40-41 army orders 43 patrols 46 a fair samaritan 51 our n.c.o.'s (no. 1) 52 our n.c.o.'s (no. 2) 53 hints for patrols 54 the best laid schemes, etc. 56-57 a conundrum 65 studies 70 ambushed 72-73 field-day reflections 75 tactics 76 field-day tragedies 77 philosophies 85 m.g. 86 more army reforms 88-89 on guard 91 a misunderstanding 92 outposts 101 at last! 104-105 off duty 108 trouble in the band 109 [illustration] [illustration] our battalion. recruits. the boy hesitated as he looked down the wet street of the little country town. "i've 'arf a mind not to go," he said, "blessed if i ain't----;" then, after a pause, with hands in pockets and coat collar turned up, he lounged off, muttering, "i'll see what bill ses." bill was waiting at the corner, looking somewhat sheepishly at the miscellaneous display in a "general" shop window. "goin'?" he said, as the other came up. "don't think i shall--at any rate not to-night." a depressing silence ensued, until a smart lad, with belt and bayonet, came by whistling and hailed them. "wot o! bill; you ought to be down at the ord'ly room by now, the sergeant's bin there ever so long. i told 'im i'd bring you two along to-night. wot are you scared about?" he continued, eyeing them critically. "ain't scared about nothing; we was only waiting till the rain cleared off." "well, 'urry up, i've got to go to the arm'ry." "all right," said the first boy. "come on, bill." the boys stared furtively round the orderly-room, a little box partitioned off from the disused malt-house that served as drill shed. on the walls were highly-coloured posters, setting forth the various advantages of his majesty's services, while in the corner a jumble of arms and equipment and a half-opened case of rifles caused them to nudge each other. a huge sergeant was writing at a table covered with army forms, drill books, and parade registers, amongst which a couple of cartridges attracted their attention. "ball cartridge, mark four," whispered the leading lad carelessly to the others. "ullo, what's this?" said the sergeant. "recruits? that's right. shut the door be'ind you, an' keep out the cold. i'm glad to see the lads about here is waking up, an' i wish more 'ud copy their example! them cripples in the next village ain't got enough spirit to get up a dog-fight, let alone learn 'ow to 'andle a rifle; all they're fit for is funerals. now let's look at you," he continued, and the deep-set grey eyes ran swiftly over the lads. "you'll do all right. now, listen to me; afore ye signs on, i've got to read over a lot o' reg'lashuns to ye, so as you'll clearly understand what ye're promisin' to do. now reg'lashuns is like acts of parlyment, no two persons can agree as to what they mean, so you won't understand them, probably; but that's not important, as my experience of the ways o' gov'mint teaches me that they'll be altered shortly, so there's no need for ye to worry. but the _one_ thing ye have to do is, to do as ye're told; attend to that now. it's the blessid privilege of the volunteer to endeavour to make himself a soldier in spite of all obstacles, an' what the reg'lar takes months to learn, an' the militia weeks, 'e 'as to try and do in _days_, so 'tis no picnic if 'e's goin' to do 'is duty. an' duty don't mean church parades, an' the annual dinner, an' as little else as you can; duty means everything you can possibly do, an' it's the pride of a good lad, that if there's an extry job o' work to be done, e's the lad that'll do it; for there's none better than a keen volunteer, an' no one worse than a slack one, that'll turn up smart when the drinks is free, but is most unduly anxious about 'is master's business on other occasions, a nuisince to 'is sergeant, 'is captin', 'is colonel, an' 'is country; an' if i thought you were that sort i'd send ye to the right-about now, but i think, by yer looks, ye have the makings o' soldiers. now, if there's anything ye want to know, now's the time to ask. what's that? ye don't know if ye're up to standard? fancy a lad 'avin' the face to ask me that! why, when i was a boy, with a couple o' corks in me heels, an' a wisp o' straw under me waistcut, i'd a' passed for a giant. when you've learnt to throw a chest and hold yer heads up, yer own mothers won't know yer. now, after i've read over these 'ere reg'lashuns, ye'll sign these papers, an' when the doctor's passed you, go an' tell yer best girls that ye'll 'ave yer futtygraphs took d'rectly yer uniforms is ready. you will p'rade at seven o'clock, sharp, mind ye, nex' monday." [illustration: "tiny"] * * * * * "recruitin's a funny business!" muttered the sergeant; officially colour-sergeant instructor of e company 1st downshire volunteer rifles, a battalion scattered over half a county, unofficially "tiny," for the most obvious reasons. "'tis a funny business, at least in these parts; p'raps it's different in london and them 'ere big towns, but if we told 'em all we was supposed to tell 'em, as it's laid down, 'twould frighten 'arf of 'em off the job; while if yer tell 'em in their own way, yer can get 'em to do anything. they say ye must _lead_ a volunteer, not _drive_ 'im, but 'pon me soul i think a judicious push is what 'e wants mostly." [illustration] [illustration: the "manual." _instructor:_ "now the hobject of these 'ere hexercises is to haccustom the recruit to 'is rifle so as 'e can 'andle it in a light an' heasy manner, same as i do this 'ere cane."] [illustration] on instructin'. "tiny" was in a shocking temper. "no one thinks 'igher of the volunteers than i do," he said to the junior subaltern. "but now an' then they gives me the fair 'ump. look at this 'ere las' business. fust of all they 'olds out as they ought to be considered part of the country's forces, instead of being shoved out of the way, so to speak. quite right. bimeby along comes a reg'lashun as they don't like. wot do they do then? take it quiet like the harmy does, an' do the best they can? no, they writes to the papers and gets up in the 'ouse and kicks up a row till it's knocked off. a reg'lashun _hain't_ a reg'lashun when it applies to volunteers. if that's their notion o' discipline, no wonder the reg'lars looks down on 'em. what if it did send their numbers down a bit; the rest 'ud be all the better for it: some good men would 'ave to go, but you take it from me, sir, the best of 'em would manage to stay. if a lad ain't fond enough of it to give up enough time to make a soldier of 'isself, 'e oughtn't to join, an' if there ain't enough of 'em who do it, the sooner they're made to the better; there's plenty as can find time enough for football or anything o' that sort, but duty don't suit them. 'it's a free country,' ses they. it is, sir. it's a good deal too free in more ways than one. "not but what you wants tact, sir, in dealin' with volunteers. for instance, you comes down to drill the recruits, an' instead of a crowd of intelligent lads, all anxious for to learn the rudiments o' squad drill, you find a lonely and depressed lookin' lad, that would 'ave recollected an engagement connected with a drink in about two minutes. now, what are you to do? you can't call it a drill, and it'll take the heart out of 'im if you send 'im off. an' mind you, often it's none so easy in a country battalion, with one company 'ere an' another there, an' a detachment in the nex' village, for the best of lads to put his drills in. there aint no drill 'alls with canteen attachments, and sergeants' mess, an' readin' rooms, so as a chap can pass a pleasant evening any time 'e likes; that's doin' it in style, sir. but what are you goin' to do? 'fall in,' ses you, 'an' dress by the right. stop that talkin' in the ranks,' ses you. 'i'm glad to see there's _one_ recruit at least as is fond of 'is duty, tho' 'e'd look better,' ses you, 'if 'e'd 'old 'is 'ead up. now actin',' ses you, 'as a rear rank, the front rank not being in their places, and 'aving been numbered off from the right which you 'aven't, and supposin' the first two men is elsewhere, what would you do on the command "form fours?" it's not a guessin' competition,' ses you. 'don't know,' ses 'e. 'well, you'll learn in time,' ses you. 'we will now proceed to something which is not laid down in the drill book, an' on which the reg'lashuns,' ses you, 'is discreetly silent. whenever you 'appen to be on sentry go an' the 'armless passer by that 'as been celebratin' 'is birthday won't listen to yer words o' wisdom, but wants to 'ug you round the neck, don't bring yer baynit down to the charge, or any foolishness of that sort, although you've bin expressly told to do it, but gently but firmly drop the butt on 'is toes, an' you'll experience all the delight o' hurtin' a fellow creature, without,' ses you, 'any unpleasantness at the inquiry afterwards. right turn. dismiss,' ses you. 'return the arms to the racks quietly an' without noise, an' tell the rest of the squad when you see 'em that you know a bit more than they do.'" [illustration] [illustration: not to be trifled with. _sentry:_ "'alt! who goes there?" _private:_ "whoy, jarge! don't 'ee know i?" _sentry:_ "'corse i do; but where be goin'?"] [illustration: flag-wagging. _newly-enlisted yeoman:_ "somebody--tell--those--silly--idiots- to stop--frightenin'--my--horse!"] [illustration] the system. "i don't know whether you've observed it or not, sir," said "tiny" to the junior subaltern, "but in this great an' glorious country no one ever starts on a job without providing 'imself with something to throw the blame on in case 'e loses the trick. sometimes they blame procedure an' sometimes the constitution; in our case 'tis the system. what that system is no one even pretends to know. in one respect it's like the reg'lashuns; everybody starts off in the same way when discussing of 'em. you never yet met anyone that didn't preface 'is remarks on the subject with 'as far as i can understand,' an' that's about as far as 'e _can_. "the ord'nary man that runs a bank, or a railway, or a hire-purchase pianner works, would think to 'isself, ''ere's the old country, bless 'er, an 'ere's the boys to defend 'er. now, if the brutil an' licentious foe is dumped down on these 'ere shores, 'e won't go c'lectin' seaweed, neither will 'e pause for to admire the landscape, but, d'rectly the pistol's fired, 'e'll get off the mark, an' make a bee line for the winning post. now the question is, can these boys stop 'im or can they not? if they can, they must be got ready for the job, an' if they can't, we ain't running a charity bazaar, and i ain't going to pay anything for what's worth nothing, so we'll 'ave to think up something else.' but that haint the way they looks at it, bless yer 'eart. 'why, you've forgotten the votes,' ses the gov'mint. 'what in the name o' goodness 'as that got to do with it?' ses the plain man. 'poor hinnocent creature!' ses the gov'mint, an' turns an' addresses the deputation:-"'friends! fellow citizens! gallant an' patriotic defenders of our island 'ome! you are unique in the history of this terrestral sphere. there is not another country,' ses he, 'as would treat you as you're treated here. yer self-sacrificin' spirit is the joy o' me heart, an' if there's not enough troops to go round i will allow you to line the back streets when processions is on, but yer "present arms" is a disgrace an' yer marchin' past makes me cold down the spine. yer shooting--well, we will pass that. but for your sense o' duty the curse of conscription would be weighin' on us, so let me point out the necessity of keeping your numbers up.' "but to answer the question of me noble friend, we 'ave not forgotten the great object for which you exist. in the disastrous an' unparalleled catastrophe of foreign invasion, which we 'ope will never come to pass, but which, if it does, we trust will happen when the opposition is in power--if, i say, at that momentuous time, you should be found unequal to the task, our plans is made. if our opponents is in, we shall demand a general election an' promptly proceed to throw them out; but, if by some mistake _we_ should be managing the vessel o' state at the time, we shall throw the blame on our predecessors for neglecting to train you properly. so our minds is easy as to the future. 'there's some guns we don't want in the corner, an' you can wear putties if you pay for them yourselves,' ses the gov'mint, 'an' we trust to you to vote straight at the nex' election.' "then the volunteer off'cer, being by nature contrary, wants to know something about 'is duties an' ses to the gov'mint, 'yer remarks is excellent an' to the point, but what can i do to correct me errors?' 'anything you like,' ses the gov'mint, cheerfully, 'that's not agin the reg'lashuns.' 'i give up my time,' ses the volunteer, 'an' pay for nearly everything out of my own pocket, an' i'm anxious for to learn, but i ain't a prophet,' ses 'e. 'give me someone to teach me.' 'i'll do anything you like in reason,' ses the gov'mint, 'but i will not train you.' 'tell me how to teach myself, then,' ses the volunteer. 'i don't know an' i don't care,' ses the gov'mint, 'but i'll spare the time to examine you if you pay yer expenses. an' meanwhile i will regard you in the light of a nuisance.' an' so matters 'ave stood, the volunteer trying to do 'is best an' the gov'mint doin' its level to stop 'im at it. [illustration: "very," ses the general.] "but now, along comes the general. 'th' army's not big enough,' 'e ses. 'we must 'ave more men or i won't be responsible for breakages,' 'e ses. 'serious?' ses the gov'mint. 'very,' ses the general. 'what am i to do?' ses the gov'mint. 'conscrip,' ses the general. 'i daren't,' ses the gov'mint in a whisper; 'the opposition 'ud get in at the next election.' 'the country requires it,' ses the general. '_does_ it?' ses the gov'mint. 'it requires _us_ more; it would be as much as my place is worth to ask every man to do his duty, an' besides, there's me brave and devoted volunteers.' 'they'll never be any real good till they have the m'litia ballot be'ind 'em,' ses the general. 'they're asking for it themselves,' ses he. 'never will i consent to force any one,' ses the gov'mint, 'in this land of freedom.' 'something must be done,' ses the general. 'ah,' ses the gov'mint, 'i have it! crowd them--i mean the volunteers--for all you're worth, an' if anything busts, we can throw the blame on them. increase the work an' cut down the pay, 'tis a sound business principle. now to turn to more important questions. is the new cap to have a peak, or is it not? an' who is it to be named after?'" [illustration] [illustration: our first puttie parade.] [illustration: field training. _captain of cadet corps:_ "i've come over to ask you if you would mind my cadets running over your land for once, mr. stubbles. i want to give them a little field work." _stubbles:_ "wull i dunno as i've got any objection, 's long as they don't do no damage; but whatever kind o' dog be they now? i know o' 'arriers an' beagles, but i never 'eard tell o' that sort afore."] [illustration] on the g.o.c. "the junior off'cers," said "tiny" to the youngest subaltern, "is on the whole as smart an' efficient a lot of young gents as i'd wish to see, fond o' their work, eager to learn, an' ready to take suggestions from their comp'ny instructors, but if you listen to them you'd think they was generals. they may not know 'ow to c'mmand a comp'ny as they should, but there never was one of 'em who, after being a week at aldershot, but what could have devised an' carried out a course of trainin' that would have been twice as good an' ten times more suitable to the requiremints of _their_ battalion at any rate. "it's true they don't go into details, but they're sure of the results. 'but,' i ses, 'think of the poor man that's in charge of all these 'ere auxiliary forces, d'you think 'e got the billet for 'is looks?' i ses. 'the general,' ses you, 'can't know the volunteer like the volunteer 'isself does.' 'now, put yerself in his place,' ses i, 'an' let's work the sum out to four places o' decimals. to commence with,' ses i, 'the first thing 'e does on being appointed to the job is to go an' 'ave a chat with the gov'mint on the subjec'. ses he, 'i've bin studyin' the thing.' 'i know ye 'ave,' ses the gov'mint; 'that's why you've got the place. we want a man as understan's the machine; it wants over'aulin' before we goes on tour with it. not simply washin' out the bearin's an' replatin' the 'andle bars, but takin' to bits, an' shovin' together agin. yer predecessor, poor man, did 'is best, but----, well, _de mortuis_, you know, _de mortuis_.' a sweet sentimint, sir, but one tendin' to untruthfulness. 'so,' ses the gov'mint, 'you see 'ow the matter stands. 'ere is the great mass of patriotic defenders of this glorious country, ready to be trained into a force that shall be the envy an' hatred of every foreign power. 'tis a noble an' inspirin' prospec' that unrolls itself before you, an' one that should stimulate yer vital energies to their utmost; the 'arder the work to you, the greater the glory to us. you 'ave a free 'and in the matter.' "'well,' ses the general, 'takin' into consideration that, if the volunteers is ever wanted, they'll be wanted in a hurry, i should suggest that they might be advantageously employed in fitting themselves for the task.' 'excellent,' ses the gov'mint; 'why ever wasn't it thought of before? go on,' ses he. 'they should be trained,' ses the general, 'to the use of the most modern weapons, an' practised in the lessons which we 'ave learned by bitter experience, to the end that, in the event of an invasion, threatened or actual, every unit shall be able to take the field without delay, sufficiently organised an' equipped to carry it through a short campaign.' 'marvellous!' ses the gov'mint. 'it's my dream realised. i will be interviewed on the matter to-morrow.' 'of course,' ses the general, 'this will undoubtedly entail a certain amount of hextra expense.' 'not another word!' ses the gov'mint. 'all bets is off! train 'em, give 'em transport, stand 'em on their 'eads, or teach 'em to sing; anything you like as long as it don't cost anything. take a fresh start,' ses 'e. "so the general sits down with 'is staff an' 'ammers away at it, an' cuts down the bills till 'e ain't givin' more than fifteen pence for 'arf-a-crown's worth of stuff, an' by an' by, round comes the gov'mint. 'i've dropped in to see 'ow we're getting on,' ses 'e. 'some of the corps,' ses the general, 'wants training in one way, i find, an' some in others, so i propose that the commanding off'cers of the various districts should adapt the training to the requirements of the troops under their command, an' should carry it out wherever we consider it would be most advantageous.' 'splendid,' ses the gov'mint. 'speak it into the funnygraph that i may listen to it by nights. we'll do it,' ses 'e, 'at some future date. just now i want ye to get 'em all together in one spot where the correspondents of the daily press can see an' realize from their own personal observation what a mighty weapon we are creatin'. the spectacle of tens of thousands of our brave defenders practisin' together the evolutions of war will be amazin' to them. never again will they dare assert that we are neglectin' the defences of the country. the next three elections,' ses the gov'mint, 'ought to be certs.' "'but,' ses the g.o.c., 'there won't be space to train quarter of them properly.' 'oh, never mind,' ses the gov'mint, 'give 'em enough room to turn round, an' stick a sintry on every telegraph pole, an' tell 'em it's all practice; they won't know any better. hevins an' earth! i ought to be playin' bridge with lady betty by now! tar-tar,' ses 'e; 'be good.' "'well,' ses the g.o.c., goin' to the sideboard an' mixing a couple o' stiff ones, 'wash it down with that,' 'e ses, givin' one to 'is staff. 'well, of all the dam nonsense!' 'e ses, fallin' into a chair. ''twas ever thus,' ses the staff, bein' by nature poetic. "an' now, sir," said "tiny" to the junior subaltern, "things bein' like this, what would _you_ do under the circumstances?" [illustration] the seven ages of the volunteer. [illustration: (1)] [illustration: (2)] at first the raw recruit, unused to arms and awkward at his drill, thinking the "manual" the very deuce. then the bold "lance," quick to salute, and glad to have escaped his turn as orderly. and then the sergeant, full of wrath because his section, squad, or what you will, misunderstand him, and do fail to grasp the thing he drives at. then he's a "sub," and cannot for the world imagine how on earth they ever did without him, don't you know. [illustration: (3)] [illustration: (4)] [illustration: (5)] [illustration: (6)] and after that he's captain, and at first wakes up his company, but as the years go on he slackens, and betimes he wonders if it is not time to chuck it, as it were. a major then, and now bestrides a "gee," thanking his lucky stars the "double" does no longer make him gasp. lastly, the colonel, sporting the bold v.d., wishing to goodness he had not to put his hand to pocket to such great extent; but dreading, all the same, the time when he must, in the course of things, retire. [illustration: (7)] [illustration] what might happen. "i would like to get 'old of some of the gentry as writes to the papers on warlike topics," said "tiny" to the world at large, "more especially them that takes the volunteers under their special care. i would unfold me mind to them. now 'ere's one of 'em as 'olds the opinion that shootin's _everything_, an' 'e quotes the opinion of a furriner who 'as bin through the war an' ses the first thing a soldier needs is to shoot well, an' the next thing is to shoot well, an' the last thing is to shoot well. now that's all right, but me worthy friend misses the first point, which is that it refers to a _soldier_, an' not a civilian. so 'e jumps off from the wrong place to start with. 'then,' ses 'e, 'teach 'em to shoot, an' take 'em down to the carefully selected position an' 'ave the distances marked off, an' the boers 'ave taught us that under these circumstances good rifle shots is a match for trained troops.' now there's where 'e run's the wrong side of the post. in the fust place this 'ere country ain't the transvaal, an' what 'ud be first rate out there 'ud be all wrong 'ere; an' in the nex' place, _is_ it just by good shootin' the boers 'ave done what they 'ave? don't think i despise shootin', but drivin' comfortable to the range an' gettin' up to the firin' line is two different things. [illustration: the firing exercise. our own thoughtful subaltern has carefully studied the new firing positions, and has also read that "methods must be improvised for utilizing the fire of two or even more ranks," and, by the above arrangement, he hopes to fulfil both conditions.] "i will ask you one question: 'if the king's prize man can only walk ten miles, an' 'e 'as to march twenty, how many bullseyes is 'e likely to make when 'e's fallen out an' lying in the ambulance? for there'll be no goin' down comfortable to a camp that's bin arranged an' catered for months before, an' finding yer tent up an' the tea ready. there'll be no breaking you in soft an' easy, so that at the end of the week too many of you won't fall out on a twenty-five mile field day. the bloomin' foe won't study yer convenience, an' you'll get no notice before'and of the picnic. the foreign power that 'as made up its mind for a slap at us will not advertize that it'll 'old a remnant sale in the metropolis on the first of nex' month. our relations will be most friendly with 'im 'till all of a sudden 'e ses, ''ere goes for london.' there'll be a navy fight first, an' twill be no ordinary one, for 'e'll lose two ships to our one, cheerfully, if 'e can clear the channel for a week. "we 'ope 'e won't manage it, and we don't think 'e will, but _if_ 'e does, it'll be no week's camp then. the orders one day, the assembly nex' mornin' an' the trains waitin'. 'arf the camp kettles ain't 'ere, sir.' 'can't be helped, you'll have to manage as best you can.' 'no room for that baggage. chuck it out, anywhere.' 'all in? right away!' heaven help the man that 'as forgot to stuff his haversack with a ration! twenty-four hours they'll be before they have a chance of a meal, an' then, heaven help the corps twice over as 'asn't been used to feeding itself, or that 'asn't give a thought to how to meet an emergency like this! quartermaster, captain, or corporal, anyone as knows his job at the camp kitchen, will be worth his weight in gold then, an' that's only the start. * * * * * "tired an' stale, the lads 'll work like niggers at the trenches, but before they're finished the order will come to get to somewhere without delay, the enemy not 'aving been kind enough to fall in with our plans. no trains this time, the lines being blocked. twenty miles before nex' mornin', an' all baggage to be left be'ind. the boys will stay in the ranks till they drop, an' where they drop they will stay. the ambulance? that's for the fighting line. 'ave ye ever seen a stiff field day? an' that's child's play. lucky the battalion that can feed its men that night. [illustration] * * * * * "'we're in reserve, thank god!' they'll cry, though every mother's son is only wishful to fight, an' they'll fall asleep by companies till the section commanders kick 'em to wake up. 'battalion will advance!' 'halt!' 'lie down!' 'advance!' 'halt!' 'lie down!' 'retire!' 'halt!' 'you've had an easy day, colonel. hold your men in readiness to attack at nightfall.' * * * * * "mile after mile through the mud. 'what are we going to do, dick?' 'spoil their beauty sleep; they've been kept at it two days, and if we----.' 'stop that talking in the ranks! close up there! what's that?' 'one of their patrols, sir.' 'push on, boys, push on! it's come at last.' * * * * * "'men, their picquets are on that hill, ready for us. we are going to take it, and hold it to the last man. the battalion will form for attack.' * * * * * "you'll want _soldiers_ then, gents; an' you must 'ave 'em ready before'and." [illustration] [illustration: our review] [illustration: army orders. great care should be exercised in reconnoitring woods.] [illustration: (1) the simple mudcrusher thought it would be rather sporting to entrap the mounted scout and laid his plans accordingly.] [illustration: (2) and the scout thought it was only his duty to bag the mudcrusher, so, disregarding his enemy's fire, he started to round him up.] [illustration: (3) _scout_: "halt! you're my----"] [illustration: (4) "---my prisoner, i think!"] [illustration: patrols. _scout:_ "there's a pub down there right enough, but there's an officer coming up the hill." _corporal:_ "over the bank, boys; an' take cover behind those ricks!"] [illustration] the lost patrol. by the junior subaltern. wonder what we shall do to-day? it seems as if we'd been here for weeks, although this is only the third day; but i suppose one's first camp always seems like that. it _is_ different from anything else; the drill i've done before don't help me a little bit. it's all very well to pass exams an' get _p.s._ after your name in the army list, but that don't do much good out on a field day, as far as i can see. here comes my noble captain. he's a bit of a slacker, i fancy. wish he'd buck the men up more in their drill. they were simply awful yesterday, _i_ thought, but he didn't seem to notice it; in fact, i rather imagined he didn't approve of my goin' for 'em in the way i did. by jove, if i said "wake up those men," once, i must have said it a hundred times. "what's that? i'm attached to x company to-day, as young jackson is on the sick list? what beastly rot! why, they're the worst company we've got. chance for me to wake 'em up? that's all bally fine, but----all right, i'm off." this is a lively look-out. my goodness, they _are_ a lot! and their captain don't seem up to much either----"yes, sir. very good, sir. take no. 1 section and join the advanced party?" "but--er--i've never----" "hurry up, for goodness sake, the adjutant's looking as black as thunder." "oh, _let_ him." "what _am_ i to do? straight along till i come to the cross roads, take the n.e. one, and keep on till i come in touch with the enemy? but----" "just ready, sir. i am only asking for final instruc----" "oh, no. 1 section, right turn, quick march." oh, bother, i've forgotten to slope the arms. "slope arms, there!" by gad, that's a pretty poor start. what _is_ the adjutant howling about? "that isn't the way to march an advanced guard. where are my flankers?" "just going to send them out, sir." "where's the section commander? on the sick list? who is in charge then? oh, you, corporal. have you ever been in an advanced guard before? no? why--oh, it's your first camp, is it? any of the men been used to this sort of thing? you don't fancy so. well, we must do the best we can. take two men and examine that little wood on the right. i will halt the section at the corner till you rejoin." ullo, what does this cyclist want? "captain jones says, will i push on at once, as i'm stopping the whole column." "oh! forward." hang me if i see the good of sending out flankers if you can't wait for them to examine anything. "step out there, men, we're blocking the column." well, here are the cross roads. oh, my sainted aunt, _five_, an' not a blessed sign-post! "any of you men know which is the way to muddiford? no?" i wonder which _is_ the n.e. road. i thought it was all bally rot getting maps and compasses, but i wish to goodness i had now. if there was only a gleam of sunshine it would help, but you can't even guess where the sun is through these clouds. oh, damn that cyclist! oh, the adjutant's swearing like old boots? well, here goes. "take the turning down the hill, boys, and push ahead as hard as you can." thank goodness we seem to have got clear of 'em now, and by the powers, here's a villager. "i say, is this right for muddiford?" why, we are coming away from it! what the dickens am i to do? "is there a short cut from here?" "yes! yes! down that lane, across the common to the wood, straight on till you get to the path, and that will take us right on to the main road long before the rest of the column can get there." cheap at half-a-crown. [illustration] "fall in there. you shall have a rest when we pick the column up, we're a bit off the track. yes, yes, over the fields and straight through the wood. get ahead! what the deuce are you men opening out like that for? you've always been told to spread out when going through a wood? oh, all right." if they lose themselves it's their look-out. where is this beastly path? at last! which way do we go? oh, er--er, curse it, that fellow didn't tell me. let's see, we turned to the left and then again, so i think it must be to the right. well, it can't be helped--here goes. i daren't own up to the men that i haven't a notion where we are, but i haven't, and that's a fact. how this infernal path does wind about! "what's that, corporal? here's a _sort_ of a road? _this_ isn't a main road. well, the men must have a rest, so----where's the rest of the section? there aren't more than half of them here. expect they've gone back the way they came?" i'm beginning to wish _i_ had too. "corporal, there's no doubt that we've lost touch with the column. we must work our way along the road till we come across a house and find out where we are; unfortunately, i forgot to bring my map with me." _at last!_ a cottage. the men had better rest while i make a few inquiries. "oh, you're a stranger in these parts? but, my good woman, is there any place where i can find----the red lion? where's that? just down the road, where those soldiers are running to?" well, i'm----! [illustration:] [illustration: a fair samaritan.] [illustration: our n.c.o.'s (no. 1). _captain:_ "look here, corporal, you know the great object of the new system is to train the n.c.o.'s to act on their own initiative and responsibility. now i want you to take a couple of men--understand? two men, and advance along the main road and select a position commanding a good view of the road, where your sentry can see without being seen--understand? now you should choose if possible a place giving some shelter for your men, as you are to imagine you've got to occupy it for twenty-four hours, and it ought to be so chosen that you could offer a certain amount of resistance if attacked--understand? you're in absolute command, and you are to do whatever you think best under the circumstances, keeping in mind the object for which you were sent out--understand?" _corporal:_ "yessir."] [illustration: our n.c.o.'s (no. 2). the position the corporal selected.] [illustration: hints for patrols. "when reconnoitring a village, one of the inhabitants should be detained and questioned."] [illustration: the best laid schemes, etc. that able and efficient officer, captain smith, had prepared a really beautiful ambush that would have put the opposing force out of action without a doubt, had not this happened just before the psychological moment!] [illustration] camp diaries no. 1. lt.-col. sir digby sandilands, m.p. _saturday._--wretched morning. hunter tells me the barometer is falling again. we really get terribly bad luck with the weather. i know what it will be--we shall get to camp wet through, and find everything absolutely sodden. wish i had sent hunter on yesterday to look after things. lady sandilands says it's perfectly absurd going on a day like this; suggests that i should go later when everything is straight. women take the most extraordinary views of one's duty to the country, but really, under the circumstances, i almost wish it were feasible. williams has just come up to say that brown bess is very lame, shall he get sultan ready? it is really most annoying: he positively hates the band, while old bess is as steady as a rock. sharpe & sharpe write me about those mortgages. i really ought to see them. if i caught the express to town i could settle the matter, and then get to the camp about the time the battalion should arrive. major strahan would take charge of them; he rather likes doing it, i fancy. if there's nothing important to see to i think that's what i must do, but it is extremely annoying after looking forward to the week and making all arrangements. the girls very disappointed; say it's not worth while going to see the battalion start if i'm not there. promise them they shall have a wire letting them know the exact time of our return. they say that's not the same thing, as we invariably come back smothered in dust and looking generally disreputable. they seem to regard the whole thing as a mild form of amusement for them. have arranged everything with the adjutant. capital fellow. really relieves me of no end of little worries. * * * * * _sunday._--arrived rather later than i expected last night. found they had had rather a bad time getting here, but everything seemed all right; hope it is; always like the men to start camp in a good temper. we parade fairly strong, but men not so smart as i should like to see them. i must impress it on the company officers to look after that sort of thing rather more carefully. church parade not improved by slight drizzle; but the chaplain very sensibly shortened the service. quite forgot to provide myself with anything for the collection; asked the adjutant if he could lend me something; he had only half-a-crown and a sovereign; so--well, i suppose it's for a good cause. inspected camp this afternoon, seems fairly comfortable. our mess president tells me he has had a lot of bother with the caterers, but he hopes it will be better in a day or two. i sincerely hope it will. * * * * * _monday._--passed a terribly bad night. camp may be a pleasant change for younger men, but it really is a great trial in many ways for commanding officers. i find one misses what are usually termed, i believe, "home comforts." the work to-day is to be confined to sections and the training of the n.c.o.'s. this new drill reads simple enough in the book, but the men don't seem to catch on to it as quickly as they should; but really everything has so changed of late years that one hardly likes to criticize. spoke to the adjutant about it; he says they're doing quite as well as he expected. very irritating order from headquarters to the effect that as we are a manoeuvres camp, officers will not dine in mess dress. a most senseless order; if they allow us mess tents and board floors, and things of that sort, why on earth can't they allow us to dine as gentlemen? [illustration: reserves.] * * * * * _tuesday._--weather improving, am happy to say. to-day's training, i believe, is to be left in the hands of the company commanders; field officers to exercise general supervision. on the whole, not bad, although i doubt if they will be able to carry out my commands as intelligently as i could wish without a tremendous amount of explanation. i must impress upon them the importance of grasping the idea of the commands, at the same time acting on their own initiative, otherwise we shall have endless confusion. * * * * * _wednesday._--something about living in the open that has a very stimulating effect upon one. made quite an excellent breakfast. the adjutant gave a most interesting lecture on outpost work before we started; he mentioned several points that i don't mind confessing had slipped my memory. i feel sure, with a little careful instruction, the efficiency of the volunteer force would be enormously increased. must refer to it in the house on earliest opportunity. did an attack with the brigade this afternoon; very disappointing. up to certain stage everything went well, but, as attack developed, got in some way mixed up with the blankshires, who were, undoubtedly, far out of their proper line. had slight argument with their c.o. dear old chap, of course, but absolutely pig-headed. would not see my point. g.o.c.'s remarks rather uncalled for, under the circumstances. had to speak to several of the company officers about letting their men get out of hand. the various adjutants seem to regard the matter with an amount of levity which i don't altogether approve of. mess very uproarious to-night; most unnecessarily so in my opinion. heard afterwards one of the subalterns had given a lecture on "tactics, as he understood them." * * * * * _thursday._--inspection to-day. passed off fairly satisfactorily; faults found of course, but that's inevitable. a weary, worrying business. every one seems out of temper. thank goodness, that's over for a year. _friday._--every prospect of a hot day of course, on the one occasion that we should rejoice in a cloudy sky. hope there will be no trouble with the water-cart. got the battalion away early, so could give the men a rest before commencing operations. don't quite know what we're intended to be doing or where we're going. somewhat awkward, as i haven't been able to tell williams where to meet me with spare horse and a sandwich. rather a joke (or the reverse) if i had to patronize the water-cart! did exceedingly well. complimented on the way i handled the battalion in awkward position. very trying march back, but men stuck to it well. will back a country battalion against a town one any time for a stiff day's work, although they may not be so smart. ordered extra ration of beer, or its equivalent, to be issued to each man. capital camp fire at night, and some very good choruses. great pity that just as we have got into our stride, so to speak, we have to break up. nothing like camp for the men. wish we could have more of it. must bring up the question of extended camps in the house. [illustration: a camp fire.] * * * * * _saturday._--brought battalion home. never knew the men march better, and every man looks as hard as nails. the girls say i look years younger. quite sorry to get back. [illustration] [illustration: a conundrum. _1st umpire:_ "i say, jimmy, which would you consider the most sporting thing to do--award both sides the palm of victory, or put 'em both out of action?"] [illustration] no. 2. capt. and adjt. "jerry" benson. _saturday._--i don't think i ever felt less inclined to get up in my life. it is simply dreadful to contemplate the fact that for the next week there won't be a moment's peace for me after 5 a.m. and something horrible is sure to happen--either the sergeant major will go sick, or the colonel's wine will be corked, or i shall be asked to explain things. the station master seems unduly flurried for one of his years--says we shall block the whole line if we don't get away soon. had no idea the railway system of the country was so easily upset. what is the matter with the youth thompson? oh, he is in charge of the baggage for the time being. it seems to excite him very much. fortunately, baggage has a nice little way of turning up in the long run, somehow. i wish they wouldn't ask me what sort of work we shall do in camp; they must think i'm a sort of military encyclopã¦dia. frightful scene detraining, volunteers always remind me of flustered hens on these occasions. * * * * * _sunday._--"oh those dreadful bugles!" usual church parade. the colonel is certain to forget his purse, so i'll take a sovereign for him. his expression when he sees i've nothing less, will be touching. as a spectacle, effect somewhat marred by the presence of a cyclist in violent tweeds. * * * * * _monday._--really a very amusing day. the struggles of the various company officers simply fascinating to watch, they have so many ways of doing the same thing. i have never been able to fathom the mind of the volunteer n.c.o., but i should think he conceives his duty consists of remaining eternally in rear of his men. i asked one what he thought he was placed in charge of a section for, and he answered very truthfully that he didn't know. i think i must get him sent out in charge of a patrol when the brigadier is about, he will be so pleased. someone asked me what i thought of the men's drill. i said it was very interesting, and that i'd seen regulars do it quite as badly. * * * * * _tuesday._--had a most elaborate brigade drill, which i believe we are not supposed to do, but it afforded me great joy. everyone else seemed to loathe it. the colonel got rather worried, which was a nuisance, as i had to keep at his elbow to put him right. i don't think any one really knows what to do, but if you only take long enough about any movement, you generally get a fresh command before you've got absolutely wrong. by some miracle we didn't get quite in a muddle, which was a pity, as the brigadier would have given everybody the most awful "dirt." felt quite sorry when it was over. the colonel uttered a heart-felt "thank god!" * * * * * _wednesday._--a most amusing little field day. i think we did everything we should not have done. not a soul paid the faintest attention to cover, and when we got into the quite open country everyone took the opportunity to reform the lines. i pulled up a subaltern who was doing it in the most barefaced manner; he was very cheerful about it, said it would save no end of confusion, and it was much easier to do "out here" than when you were "bottled up in a bally wood!" i should rather like to know what the men think of field days. the issue of blank ammunition usually keeps them quite cheerful for the first half-hour; then, if they happen to be in reserve they get very sulky and think they're being "done in the eye," and when they eventually get into the firing line, they loose off every round they have as fast as possible, and from that moment take no further interest in the proceedings. * * * * * _thursday._--annual inspection to-day. took every precaution, carefully coached two companies in piquet duties, and put the rest in reserve. told the captains if they had any old soldiers in the ranks to put them in the responsible positions. thank goodness the chief invariably asks the same questions, so hadn't to bother about other things. it would be too dreadful if he started dodging us. i wish officers would _not_ say they've received no instructions about all sorts of things. it may be perfectly true, but you can't get them to see that they ought to say anything but that. had rather a fright when i heard the g.o.c. was paying a surprise visit to the outposts, but something kept him off us. the sergeant major said we should get an awful wigging over the camp, as it wasn't half cleaned up, so had to get the colonel to keep lunch going as long as possible. men turned out for inspection better than i expected, but one wretched youth in no. 1 company got his bayonet jammed. thought we were in for it, but luckily his struggles were so pathetic that the chief had to laugh, and forgot to make any nasty remarks until he'd almost finished the inspection. we might train a humorously-minded boy to do something of the sort every time. * * * * * _friday._--usual wind-up field day. did "pooja" to everything i could think of, in the hope of being placed in reserve, but it didn't come off. had a positively dreadful time. our portion of the firing line seemed to fascinate the g.o.c., nothing would make him go away. gave us frightful "dirt" because the men insisted on standing up to see the commander-in-chief and staff go by, when they were supposed to be under cover and lying down. one of the staff got off rather smart thing--said the volunteers combined the minimum of expense with the maximum of inefficiency. * * * * * _saturday._--broke camp. i don't know which is worse, getting to camp or coming away from it. it doesn't matter what arrangements you make, it always results in hopeless confusion, and everybody goes about cursing somebody or something. i shall keep out of the way as much as possible, and i shall go on leave directly we get back. [illustration: the hired "charger" is not a thing of beauty!] [illustration: studies. _serious major:_ "you ought to look in to-night, youngster, we shall be having a 'kriegspiel' on." _frivolous sub.:_ "what's that, sir?" _major:_ "don't you know? why it's the war game." _sub.:_ "never heard of it! can you make any money at it?"] [illustration: ambushed! _extract from officer's diary._--"had lunch, practically on an unsuspected wasp's nest, and had to clear out, each man collaring whatever he could lay hands on. the colonel was the last to quit the field of battle."] [illustration: field-day reflections. _field officer_ (_a little out of touch for the time being_): "i wish to goodness our corps had stuck to their scarlet instead of goin' into this infernal khaki; you used to be able to spot 'em at any distance, but now i'm hanged if i can tell _where_ they are!"] [illustration: tactics. _slim subaltern:_ "not out of action? i should jolly well think you were, though! why i've been simply pumping lead into you for the last ten minutes!" _captain of opposing force:_ "that's all very fine, but it all depends on the range you were firing at." _slim subaltern:_ "don't you worry about that, cocky; i had one section sightin' at eight hundred, another at nine, 'nother at one thou, an' t'other at 'leven hundred!"] [illustration: field-day tragedies. "ullo, dicky! where's your company? lost?" "no, not lost, but gone before!"] [illustration] no. 3. 2nd lieut. fitzgerald lawless. _saturday._--utter rot limiting a fellow's baggage; i've simply chucked it. if there was any need, i could live in one shirt just as well as the next man, but i expect the sergeant major will think it his duty to point out that two kit bags, a hold-all, plus the regulation tin box, is almost up to field officer form, but i can't do it with less. i'm sure the amount of stuff the sergeants' mess take with 'em is simply appalling. trust our mess president will provide for our carnal appetites by the way, but shall take the precaution of laying in a small stock on my own. had huge jest with young simpkins in the train. rotted him about his new sam browne equipment; told him it wasn't on right, so we had it off him, and regularly trussed him up in it; he got awfully wrathy, so we sat him in a corner while jackson read "hints for young officers" to him. found my tent pitched close to the colonel's; rather a good egg, as they won't be able to try any larks on this time. that young ass blenkinsop, who was baggage officer, has lost one of my kit bags, and pretty well smashed up the other things. had the cheek to say it was lucky the only really efficient sub. in the battalion in charge, or the baggage would never have got here. gathered from the tone of his remarks that he'd had a pretty healthy time of it. * * * * * _sunday._--seems quite good to hear the bugles going once more. church parade. infernal nuisance having to wear busbies--always feel like a bally hungarian bandsman. as usual, forgot about the collection, so had to apply to watney, who, being a parson's son, is up to these moves; result--put in half-a-crown. fancy watney regards it as a little private field day, as he invariably has half-crowns and nothing else. told me afterwards he'd lent five. spent most of this afternoon trying to instil some measure of tidiness into my servant. * * * * * _monday._--on duty. inspected the grub first thing. awfully good chap our quartermaster; tried to show me how to spot bully beef. 'pon my soul i think the real work of a battalion is done off the scenes, as it were. how the deuce they manage to feed nine hundred beggars without a regular fuss, beats me. no complaints about the breakfast. my own a bit off, as i was late. preliminary training and drills. been trying to hammer a little knowledge into our n.c.o.'s. the non-commissioned man may be the backbone of the army, but i'll be hanged if he is of the volunteers. went round lines at dinner. two or three complaints; either too much fat or too little gravy. got rather good wheeze for these occasions; nearly always come from an untidy lot, so invariably say i never take complaints from a dirty tent; makes 'em very sick. turned out the guards; good thing in principle, generally a bally farce in practice. * * * * * _tuesday._--had to dig young brown out of his tent about 2 a.m.; his man hadn't slacked off the tent ropes, and as there was rather a heavy dew, the whole show collapsed. fancy b. thought the camp had been rushed, as we discovered him clutching his sword. his lamp had been knocked over, and he was soaked in paraffin, and smelt vilely. rotted b. about it all day. fooled about in rear of my half company most of the time, as the captain was enjoying himself bossing everything; he might just as well have given me a separate job to do. got rather hauled over the coals for not seeing that the men laid out their bedding properly. asked the sergeant major what the regulation way was. wish he wouldn't _always_ preface his information with "i should have thought, sir, that that was one of the _first_ things an officer should know." rather a lark after mess; got young b. down and christened him "violet de parme," while jackson played "taint all lavender." suspected b. of harbouring thoughts of revenge, so collared a syphon of soda, and after putting out my light crawled outside and waited for him. just as he started letting the tent down, sallied forth and let fly the soda at him. stirred up the colonel, so had to lie awfully doggo. * * * * * _wednesday._--colonel rather grumpy about being disturbed. did a futile brigade attack to-day. got told off as escort to some machine guns. asked the johnnie in command of 'em what he was going to do. said he didn't know, but thought they wanted him to keep out of the way, and interrupt the attack as little as possible. m.g.'s usually looked on as a nuisance, i fancy. i suggested it would be rather sporting if we worked out well to a flank, and then imagined ourselves ambushed, and bolted back on the main body; give 'em awfully great opportunity of showing what they could do in an emergency, but he wouldn't rise to it. simply a lovely chance lost of rotting up the show. think i shall put in for the gun section next year. [illustration: the gun team.] went over to the wildshires in the evening. awfully sporting lot. found 'em having chariot races in armchairs with obstacles. being a guest, was asked to be passenger; nothing broken but the chair. musical lot, too. have great formula when they want a song from anyone, "will you come to the piano, or will you be fetched?" they generally come. rather late before i got back. never knew a camp with so many confounded tent ropes. * * * * * _thursday._--annual inspection. filthy day. inspected every ten minutes, with slight interval for showers. was hurried off to a piquet. rushed out patrols and sentries somewhere. got told to alter 'em. if you wanted to know anything you were told to ask some one else. always the same game. hardly a soul knows what they're supposed to be doing. you're not certain yourself, and if you are, you haven't time to tell your men. so everyone produces little red books, and studies "what to do and how to do it," by "one who thinks he knows." no wonder the regulars jibe at us; it's astonishing we're as good as we are. everybody a bit off to-day. * * * * * _friday._--paraded half an hour earlier, as we had about seven miles to march to the rendezvous. tried to stop my fellows from emptying their water-bottles at the first halt. it would do 'em good if the water-cart got lost for once, and they had to make the contents of their bottles last them the day. find we're to act as rearguard to something. got told off to occupy a bit of a wood right away on the flank. thank goodness they haven't told me what to do or how long to hold on, or anything, so i shall get out of touch as soon as i can and play off my own bat. rather good little wood. men awfully keen on the job. soon after we occupied position, spotted party of the enemy coming through gap in the hills. couldn't see them very well on account of the haze, so waited till they got fairly near, and then gave 'em a volley. they sent an orderly over to know what the deuce i meant by firing on the ambulance. felt rather an ass, but found out afterwards every party they had passed had paid them the same compliment. soon after scout came in with news of enemy. i wanted to ambush 'em, but some silly fool fired without orders, so it became a regular attack. put three companies out of action before we retired, but cut it rather too fine, and a few of my chaps got collared. found the rest of the rearguard had cleared before. some of 'em mistook us for the bally foe, and blazed into us like old boots. rotted 'em no end when we got up to them. everything got in the most awful muddle after a bit; no one knew who was which. after the "cease fire" sounded came across a lot of chaps firing like mad at anybody who came near. told 'em the "cease fire" had gone. "'cease fire' be damned!" said one of them. "we ain't had a look in till now!" rather rough time getting back to camp. thought at one time half my lot were going to fall out, so went for 'em like anything. called 'em a "bally lot of school-girls out for a sunday-school treat," which upset them somewhat, so they bucked up and not one caved in, although we were all pretty well "baked." awfully festive night. the wildshires had a camp fire, nearly all the brigade turned out. any amount of choruses. had fearful "rag" afterwards. scotson got hold of a wheelbarrow, formed a machine-gun detachment, and rushed the southshires' lines. awfully "pi" lot, and got very sick. whenever they started to object charged 'em with the "maxim," and drove 'em to earth. when i got back found my tent struck and a note on it begging me not to disturb the colonel when pitching it. got out my blankets, rolled up in them, and slept outside. * * * * * _saturday._--find i'm stuck in charge of the baggage. must see if i can manage it without the usual row. rather nice fellow is the a.s.c. in charge of transport. told him we'd got it all ready, and he needn't worry. shall just have time for my fellows to get breakfast and then slip into it. everything seems all serene, so i'll get a bite myself. oh, my aunt maria! i wish if they give a fellow a job to do they'd leave him to do it. found everybody pitching the stuff up into the wagons anyhow. how ever it got sorted out, goodness knows. had rather a row with the a.s.c. chap; told him he was muddling everything up. seemed to think a volunteer can't possibly know anything, but considering half my men come from the railway, i'll back them against all comers for loading a truck. started at last, about half an hour late. more trouble at the station; only two trucks there instead of the five indented for. my stock of ornamental profanity barely sufficient for the occasion. finally managed somehow. loaded up passenger coaches, horse boxes, anything; but men awfully sulky. thought they were going to curse the major when he wanted to know why everything wasn't done. got rotted by young blenkinsop for mucking the show up. major awfully good chap on these occasions; told me it's absolutely unavoidable when we have to manage to get a day's work done in about three hours. told ripping good jest against himself when _he_ was on baggage duty years ago. must try it again next year to see if i can do it differently. only one or two things gone wrong after all, by some miracle. home again. feel rather tired. jolly good camp, though. hope next year's will be as good. [illustration: off duty.] [illustration: philosophies. "chargin'," said the junior subaltern, "is all bally rot; and when we carried a beastly sword it was positively dangerous. you blew your whistle, bolted out in front of your men, howled 'char-r-r-ge!' shoved your foot in a hole, or got the scabbard between your legs an' came a regular mucker, and then some idiot behind either jumped on you or tripped over you, an' most likely prodded you with his bally bayonet."] [illustration: m.g. _extract from diary._--"we got our maxim into a capital position on the flank, but before we could fire a shot we were put out of action for some time."] [illustration: more army reforms. _our only sub.:_ "awful tommy rot big battalions, don't you know; ever so much jollier with just the mess an' the band."] [illustration: on guard. _officer of the day_ (_who believes in making sure that every man knows his work_): "ah? what are you?" (_no answer._) "er! what are your orders?" (_no answer._) "what the dooce are you doing here?" _recruit_ (_on sentry go for the first time_): "please, zur, i bz waitin' for they to tell i to come to tay!"] [illustration: a misunderstanding. _colonel_ (_to recruit who has forgotten to salute him_): "what company do you belong to?" _recruit_ (_mindful of his civil occupation_): "th--th--the gas company, please, sir!"] [illustration] no. 4. pte. timothy simmons. _saturday._--'ad a bit of a row with the old man afore starting; 'e wants me to give mother 'arf my camp pay, same as if it were wages. told 'im i would if i could, so i expect there'll be more rows when we gets back. said good-bye to mary, an' told her if i 'eard of any goings on with bill jenkins, as could go to camp if 'e wanted to right enough, i'd spoil 'is face for 'im. she said i ought to be walkin' 'er out instead o' wastin' my time playin' at soldiers, an' that bill's a very sensible chap. i ses as 'e's a waster an' a perfect bloomin' idjet at drill, always a throwin' us out. jawin' with 'er made me a bit late for parade, but our leftenant didn't seem to mind for a wonder. usually 'is temper's awful if things don't go as he likes. he cocked 'is bloomin' eye-glass at me, tho', in a way as made me think 'e was going to start cussin'. twasn't bad with all the village looking on, an' we marched off in style. got told off to the baggage guard at the station. blessed if i don't think it was for being late for p'rade. warn't sorry when the train started, as one of the chaps 'ad got hold of four bottles of beer as was all right. just before the train stops our serjint, 'e ses, "look after our own company's baggage, an' never mind what anybody ses." but we 'adn't more than about started when a off'cer on a horse comes along an' wants to know who's in charge an' where is 'e. i tells 'im, an' then he ses we can't be all day over the job, an' we're to put all this lot into that truck. we ses we was told to put it in t'other. "put it where _i_ tell you," 'e ses. bimeby along comes our off'cer, an' just takes one look at us, an' then started fairly in. as our corp'ril said afterwards, it were a treat. i'd 'ave given the price of a pint to 'ave been able to sit still an' listen to 'im, an' yet to look at 'im in the ordinary way you'd think he couldn't get further than "dash it all!" then up comes the off'cer on the 'orse. "are you in charge of this guard?" ses 'e. "yes," ses our off'cer. "well, you'll never get away at this rate, an' there's three more battalions to detrain after you, an' i must 'ave those trucks back from the camp by six o'clock." "very good; they will be here," ses our man. "not at this rate," ses t'other. "my dear fellow," ses our off'cer, "my men aint regulars, but they can manage it all right in their own way if you'll leave 'em alone; but you're simply muddlin' us up now." "can't help that," ses t'other. "i'm only responsible for the trucks, and they must be got away at once." "i'm responsible for the baggage," ses our man. "either leave the job to me or take the whole thing over." "oh, do as you like. i don't care a damn," ses the one on the 'orse. "no more do i," ses our off'cer. so we gets it together somehow an' marches off, the bloomin' traction-engine a-goin' about five miles an 'our an' we tryin' to keep up, all of us cussin' at everything. don't catch me on a baggage guard again in a 'urry. * * * * * _sunday._--bit tired to-day. couldn't get much sleep las' night; some of the chaps 'adn't been to camp afore, an' wouldn't shake down quiet. kep' growlin' at everything. off'cer comes round wantin' to know what the noise were about. i tells 'im as george hitchins 'udn't shut up, an' let us get to sleep. "'it 'im on the 'ed with a boot," ses the off'cer, an' i 'ad a bloomin' good mind to. church p'rade in the mornin'. never 'eard a blessed word till we got to the hymns. dinner pretty right, but could 'ave done with more of it. beer at the canteen not 'arf as good as we gets at the old "king's arms." went out with some of our chaps in the afternoon an' 'ad a sleep in a wood. not 'arf a bad day. if t'were goin' to be all same as this, i wouldn't mind. * * * * * _monday._--jack houghton, as was tent orderly to-day, goes an' trips over one of the tent ropes when he were bringing the coffee, an' spilt most of it. tried to get some more, but couldn't, so docked 'im of 'is share; even then we was precious short. section drill all the morning. never saw the off'cers so savage--nothing would please them; they're fairly easy all the year, but they makes up for it in camp. not but what some of the chaps want it--lots of 'em goes on enough to break a feller's 'eart, an' then we all gets the blame. that there houghton got hold of the wrong kettle at dinner an' come back with no. 5's grub, which, as they're only seven in their tent to our eight, warn't good enough. complained to the off'cer as come round. 'e said if we couldn't look after ourselves better than that, we must take the consequences. that's all very fine, but it don't feed us. made houghton stand 'arf a gallon to the tent. 'e ses camp's a bloomin' swindle. if there's one thing i 'ates it is cleaning up the camp; the other companies chucks their rubbish into our lines, but t'aint no use to say so, you only gets shut up. [illustration: on the range.] got jawed at for a bit o' dirt in my rifle as you couldn't see. "clean it again," ses our leftenant. "i've cleaned the thing forty times," i ses. "forty-one's your lucky number," 'e ses; "try again." went for a stroll in the evenin', but these 'ere camps is too far away from anything to please me. * * * * * _tuesday._--my day as tent orderly. i never see such a lot of chaps to grumble as our tent. fust of all the bread warn't right, then i 'adn't got enough coffee, an' the bacon was done too much--why 'adn't i kicked up a row? "look 'ere," i ses, "you bloomin' well take wot you gets, an' if you aint satisfied you complain to the off'cer of the day; _'e_ won't stand much of yer lip. i know my work," i ses, "an' i done it." had to peel a reg'lar pile of taters, twice as many as they ought to want. "there," i ses to our company cook, "'ow's that?" "why, you've bin an' wasted nigh on 'arf of 'em," 'e ses. "an' then yer tent will be hollerin' out as i cheats 'em. _i_ know 'em," 'e ses. an' sure enough they did, only it were the gravy as they didn't like this time. i shall be bloomin' glad when i'm a sergint, an' 'as a mess to ourselves. 'ad narrow shave of being late for p'rade. you aint got no time to spare when you're orderly. thought nothing would satisfy our off'cers to-day. we was trying all sorts of things like they does 'em at the war, an' we was fairly sick of it, but the colonel 'e rides by an' sings out as we was the best company 'e'd seen that morning, so that was all right, an' we didn't mind being shoved about. * * * * * _wednesday._--we was practised in advanced guard the first thing this morning, all the companies working separate. after a bit, i'm blowed if yer could tell what any of 'em was at, they was so mixed up. afore we starts, our captain 'e explains to us what we was supposed to do; _'e_ may 'ave understood what 'e was drivin' at, but i'm blest if any of us did. 'owever, after a bit i begins to see what we was meant to be doin', an' bimeby the captain 'e tells me to take two men as a patrol to examine a wood as was near by. d'rectly we was out of sight one of 'em starts playin' the goat, till i gives 'im a shove in the back wi' the butt just to remind 'im as i was in command. the major come along jist then an' asks me what we was? i tells 'im as we were a patrol, an' 'e tells me the proper way to do it, an' what to report to the captain. after breakfast we was out again doin' outposts. wish they wouldn't 'ave so much make believe about it. supposin' now they puts yer in a group as sentries. "the henemy," they ses, "is somewhere over there, an' you've to watch that bit o' country in front of you; the countersign's 'bunkum,' an' you've to keep under cover." well, there aint no henemy, an' nothin' aint goin' to 'appen, an' yer wouldn't know wot to do if it did, so you just lies down an' smokes till the "assembly" goes, an' then you comes back. it may teach officers something, but it don't teach us much. as we was out for the day only 'ad a sort o' bread an' water picnic instead of dinner, which we 'as when we gets back to camp. we was put through what they calls an attack drill after, but i didn't think much of it; started off with about twenty yards between you an' the next man, an' then as we advanced, they comes crowdin' up from be'ind till the firin' line were like a bloomin' football scrimmage, with about four different battalions all atop o' one another, an' loosin' off right an' left whether they was in front or be'ind. "'ere," i ses to ted parminter, "this aint no place for us, it's too bloomin' dangerous. i'm going to be a casualty." an' we drops be'ind. "wot bally rot!" i 'eard one off'cer say, an' i quite agreed with 'im. * * * * * _thursday._--everyone 'ad to clean the bloomin' camp twice over to-day, as we was to be inspected. i niver seen such a place for getting dirty; you brushes yerself down an' blacks yer boots an' polishes up yer rifle, an' in ten minutes you are that covered in dust as you look as if you 'adn't washed for a week. got sent out with a patrol again. saw a general ridin' along our way, so we got be'ind an 'edge till 'e'd gone by. just after we got back to the picket another general comes along an' asks all sorts of questions, an' didn't seem to think much of the answers 'e got. we was all 'oping it were over for the day, when along comes a whole lot o' generals all together, and one of 'em calls out to us to fall in. we gets up an' begins dusting ourselves down a bit, when 'e yells at us for not being in our places at once, an' goes for us 'ot an' strong; then 'e starts asking questions as made me shiver. all of a sudden 'e ses: "who was in charge of the last patrol as went out?" the captain calls me up, and the general ses, "where did you go?" i tells 'im i went as far as the wood. "see anything of the enemy?" 'e ses. "there weren't none there," i ses. "how do you know?" ses 'e; "you ar'n't allowed to enter the woods about here." "well, sir," i ses, "we didn't go in, but there's only two places where anybody could get in without doing damage, and there weren't no footmarks there." "what forage can i get down there?" 'e ses. "there's about three ton o' bad 'ay, sir, at one of the cottages, but it aint worth 'aulin'," i ses, an' 'e tells me to fall back in the ranks, which i was precious glad to do. our captain said, when they was gone, as 'ow i'd answered very well, an' 'ow i ought to go for a stripe. i said as i should like to. paraded in the afternoon for the reg'lar inspection; was kept out in the burnin' sun standing still for about two hours while another general walked round an' looked at our buttons an' boots, an' found fault with every blessed thing. they seems to think yer kit is made to look at, not to use. as i ses to ted in the canteen after, "we comes to camp for trainin', an' this 'ere's nothing but wastin' time, as could be done at 'ome anywhere." * * * * * _friday._--revelly 'arf 'our earlier this morning, as we 'ad a longish march to do. precious 'ot it were, too, an' we were main glad to get a rest before beginning operations. don't know what we was supposed to be doin', but we got posted on the side of an 'ill where we could 'ave seen everything as was goin' on, but d'rectly you gets up to 'ave a look some one starts bellerin', "lie down there!" till we all got the bloomin' 'ump. after a bit they takes us back the way we come and we lay down again, then they advances us up the 'ill again; then they shifts us about all over the shop, backerds an' forrards, till we didn't know where we was. at last a off'cer comes galloping over to our colonel and they seemed to be 'avin' a few words, and we advances an' 'alts, advances an' 'alts, for about a hour an' a 'arf, an' then just as we was getting up to the firing line an' thinkin' this was a bit of all right at last, the bugles go, "cease fire." "taint fair," ses dick jennings; "let's shoot the bloomin' humpire." getting back to camp were a bit thick, 'ow we did it without fallin' out i don't know. no one who aint done it theirselves knows wot marchin' ten mile in fours on a road two inches deep in dust is like; yer rifle weighs about a ton, an' yer water's gone at the first 'alt. the bloomin' band as ought to 'ave met us an' played us 'ome, went an' lost itself, an' never showed up till we was almost back to camp. colonel 'e's give out as every man is to 'ave a hextra pint issued to 'im. i 'ad three more on my own; 'ad a bit of a sing-song in the evenin', but we was too tired to do much. * * * * * _saturday._--regular scrimmage striking tents an' getting blankets an' baggage together, but got it done some'ow--a regular nigger drivin' sort of job. felt quite sorry when we fell in on p'rade for the last time. camp's stiffish work an' everybody grumbles, but it aint bad fun on the whole; an' after all a chap as 'as been to camp is worth half-a-dozen as 'asn't, you learns things there that you can't learn nohow else, no matter 'ow clever you are. [illustration] [illustration: outposts. both the sentry and the group indulge in a little "nap."] [illustration: blank cartridges] what the service would be without the junior subaltern the junior subaltern cannot imagine. * * * * * do not anathematize the genius who formulates the regulations. he is quite right, if you could but understand him. * * * * * gun practice with obsolete weapons is instructive. one cannot know too much of the history of one's country. * * * * * a sealed pattern at the war office is something different from the kit you have just purchased. [illustration: at last! private jones having contrived to sit upon his bayonet, the various ambulances and bearer sections get a look in.] the expenses of the officer's dress should be reduced whenever possible. abolish ten shillings worth of lace, and substitute three buttons at three-and-sixpence apiece. there is only a slight difference, but every little helps. [illustration] rifles should be cleaned very carefully: one man should hold the rifle, and the other should manipulate the "pull-through." [illustration] the difference between field service kit and parade dress is very marked. you wear out the one and grow out of the other. [illustration: off duty. that enthusiastic volunteer, jack rackett, holds that, while in camp, you should consider yourself a soldier for the time being; but, he says, tommy has a "deuced good time, don't you know!"] [illustration: trouble in the band. _bugler:_ "'ere, if you go on increasin' at this rate, fatty, you'll 'ave to send in your resignation. you won't be able to reach the middle o' the drum soon!"] you may be traffic manager of a railway, but you cannot know as much about a baggage train as a second lieutenant in the army service corps who has been at it for a week. * * * * * now this is the creed of the subaltern.- the subaltern knows everything and does everything. the captain knows (?) everything and does nothing. the major knows nothing and does nothing. * * * * * [illustration] there is such a thing as too much enthusiasm, and when, after joining the signalling section, edwin's fond epistles took the above form, angelina decided that it was time to break off the engagement. * * * * * if you want to know anything always ask the adjutant; recollect that he has nothing to do but to attend to _you_. * * * * * no water-cart is perfect. you may abuse it without incurring rebuke. * * * * * when in doubt say you have received no instructions. * * * * * many rules apply equally well in civil and military life. if you are in a responsible position, never do anything till you are absolutely pushed. presenting arms never killed the enemy, neither has physical drill, but each helps to make a soldier. * * * * * it is curious how an indifferent shot always gets a badly sighted rifle issued to him. * * * * * "intelligence in the obeyin' of commands," said "tiny," "is of the utmost importance. if you are with an off'cer as knows 'is work you may close yer eyes and rest in peace, an' just do as you're told without worryin'. but they differ. there's that little devil with the eyeglass now, if 'e's takin' you an' you see me convenient to 'is elbow you can be easy in your minds an' jump to the word, but if, by misfortune, 'e's out there alone, keep yer wits about yer an' step off slow, for 'as you were' an' 'mark time' is favourite commands with 'im.'" * * * * * "discipline is a good word; it fills the mouth and makes the chest swell with the sound, but it's easier to spell than to explain," said "tiny." "i have not my patent-instalment-plan dictionary with me, but 'tis in the nature of obedience, only more so. any fool can do as 'e's told, but the disciplined man will do it even when 'e thinks it's wrong--not, i want ye to understand, just because it's an order, but because 'e ses to 'imself: this is for a reason as i don't know on. f'rinstance, when the father told the boy to slip into the orchard an' shin up a tree an' collar all the apples 'e could, that boy didn't hesitate, but started 'tooty sweet,' as the french say. now, thinks 'e as 'e goes along, 'wot's the little game? the apples is rotten, the dawg's about, an' the farmer 'll catch me for sure. it can't be for the sake of getting me a lammin', cos,' says he, 'the ole man likes doin' that 'isself. i don't 'arf like the looks of it,' 'e says, 'but i'll take me precautions:' with that he shoves a bone in 'is pocket to amuse the tripe hound if he gets too pressing, an' takes a stone or two for the farmer, an' by the end of the campaign comes back to find that the enemy's attention 'aving been diverted to the orchard, the ole man 'as cleaned out the hen roost, an' there's a hot supper an' general rejoicings." [illustration: "all exercises should generally conclude with a conference, at which officers and non-commissioned officers should be encouraged to explain any action they may have taken." _vide_ army orders, 1901.] [illustration] [illustration] * * * * * transcriber's note: the original hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved. page 21, "reglashuns" changed to "reg'lashuns" [ed. for consistency] page 99, 'anywhere.' changed to 'anywhere."' page 111, "isself" changed to "'isself" transcriber's note: italics are rendered with underscores, e.g. _italics_. small caps are rendered with all-caps. the oe ligature is rendered [oe], e.g. man[oe]uvres. raemaekers' cartoon history of the war [illustration: (signed) louis raemaekers] raemaekers' cartoon history of the war compiled by j. murray allison editor of _raemaekers' cartoons_, _kultur in cartoons_, _the century edition de luxe raemaekers' cartoons_, _etc._ volume two the second twelve months of war new york the century co. 1919 copyright, 1919, by the century co. foreword the second year of the war opened in the west with the enemy, although superior in man power and munitionment, pinned down to a defensive line from belfort to the sea. the new armies of the british empire were still being raised and trained, and neither england nor france had reached their zenith in the production of guns and munitions. the western front was to remain for a time comparatively inactive. in the east the great teutonic drive through poland was still in progress, although the russian armies had everywhere escaped envelopment, and their retreat was nearly at an end. warsaw was occupied by the germans early in august. it was a moment chosen by germany to make an offer of separate peace to russia. the enemy sought to gain by bribery what his armies had failed to accomplish in the field. the offer was rejected by russia. by october germany's greatest military effort so far had failed and the russian armies stood intact from the bukovina to riga. the next great development in the history of the war was the entry of bulgaria in october on the side of the central powers. whilst great german and austro-hungarian forces crossed the danube in the north the bulgarians attacked serbia on the flank. in a few weeks serbia and montenegro suffered the fate of belgium and luxemburg, the british and french troops not having arrived in time to render material aid to the serbians. greece, failing to live up to her treaty with serbia, contributed to the defeat of that country and was for many months to form a menace to the allied troops who were making the port of salonika their base in the balkans. in the meantime the western allies had taken the offensive in september, the french attacking in champagne and the british in flanders. the attack was not driven home and no further offensive upon a large scale was to take place until july in the following year. january saw gallipoli evacuated by the allies, releasing turkish troops for service in mesopotamia which was doubtless to have its effect in the fall of kut and the capture of the garrison later on. late in february the great german offensive began at verdun, an offensive which was to prove the most costly defeat of the german arms during the war. the battle of verdun continued for months and may be said to have been definitely lost by the germans by the 1st of july. meanwhile the russian armies in the caucasus and armenia had beaten the turks in many engagements, taking amongst other towns the fortress of erzerum with great numbers of prisoners and military stores. the other russian armies in the north, reorganized and thoroughly equipped with munitionment, began in june their magnificent advance all along their line from riga to the carpathians. the last month of the second year of the war witnessed the beginning of the "big push" in the west, the russian advance in the east, the retreat of the austrians in the trentino, and the beginning of the italians' successful thrust upon the isonzo. it is with these major military operations of the year with which raemaekers' cartoons on the following pages deal. he did not neglect to record, however, many of the minor happenings. the various and devious peace moves of the enemy did not escape his comment nor did the cold blooded murders of nurse cavell and captain fryatt. he has recorded also many examples of german zeppelin ruthlessness and german piracy on the sea. notable amongst the latter is the _sussex_ crime and its subsequent diplomatic developments, which were to play such an important part in america's entry into the war. j. m. a. volume two _the anniversary, august, 1915_ _bernhardi_: "_have we not surpassed your most sanguine expectations?_" * * * * * total losses amongst all belligerents during first year of war: _killed_ _wounded_ _missing and_ _total_ _prisoners_ 3,026,713 5,768,994 2,673,188 11,528,895 _nineteenth century and after._ [illustration] _king albert's answer to the pope_ "_with him who broke his word, devastated my country, burned my villages, destroyed my towns, desecrated my churches, and murdered my people, i will not make peace before he is expelled from my country and punished for his crimes._" * * * * * today, on the sad anniversary of the terrible conflict, our heart gives forth the wish that the war will soon end. we raise again our voice to utter a fatherly cry for peace. may this cry, dominating the frightful noise of arms, reach the warring peoples and their chiefs and induce kindly and more serene intentions. _from the papal peace appeal, august 1, 1916._ [illustration] _a stable peace_ _the kaiser_: "_and remember, if they do not accept it, i deny it altogether_" * * * * * that the dardanelles and galicia had been offered by berlin to petrograd; that egypt was asked for turkey, and that the mediation of the pope was desired on the basis of the restitution of belgium, were some of the reports which gained currency between aug. 5, the date of the fall of warsaw, and aug. 12, when the novoe vremya of petrograd confirmed the rumors of german overtures for a separate peace with russia. almost simultaneously from petrograd and from milan announcements that, after the capture of warsaw, germany was seriously engaged in preliminary negotiations for the establishment of a peace were published. besides galicia and the dardanelles, the novoe vremya said, germany would guarantee the integrity of the russian frontiers, at the same time stipulating for egypt on the pretext of ceding that country to turkey, and for a free hand to deal with russia's allies. the report declared that these offers were rejected by the czar's government. "_current history_," _new york._ [illustration] _thrown to the swine_ * * * * * on august 5, 1915, miss cavell, an english woman, directress of a large nursing home at brussels, was quietly arrested by the german authorities and confined in the prison of st. gilles on the charge that she had aided stragglers from the allied armies to escape across the frontier from belgium to holland, furnishing them with money, clothing and information concerning the route to be followed. * * * * * we reminded him (baron von der lancken) of the burning of louvain and the sinking of the _lusitania_, and told him that this murder would stir all civilized countries with horror and disgust. count harrach broke in at this with the rather irrelevant remark that he would rather see miss cavell shot than have harm come to one of the humblest german soldiers, and his only regret was that they had not "three or four english old women to shoot." * * * * * the day brought forth another loathsome fact in connection with the case. it seems the sentence of miss cavell was not pronounced in open court. her executioners, apparently in hope of concealing their intentions from us, went into her cell and there behind locked doors pronounced sentence upon her. it is all a piece with the other things they have done. hugh gibson, _first secretary of the american legation at brussels._ [illustration] _the martyred nurse_ _william_: "_now you can bring me the american protest_" * * * * * even when i was ready to abandon all hope, leval was unable to believe that the german authorities would persist in their decision, and appealed most touchingly and feelingly to the sense of pity for which we looked in vain. hugh gibson, _first secretary american legation at brussels_. to condemn any human being, even if he were the vilest criminal, at 5 o'clock in the afternoon and execute him at 2 a. m. was an act of barbarism for which no possible condemnation is adequate. under these circumstances, it would be incredible, if the facts were not beyond dispute, that the request of the united states for a little delay was not only brutally refused, _but that our legation was deliberately misled and deceived until the death sentence had been inflicted_. james m. beck _in_ "_new york times_." [illustration] _the yellow book_ "_unmasked_" * * * * * the publication of the french government yellow book in august dealing with the diplomatic events which led up to the war proved that whilst germany was assuring the nations of her peaceful intentions she was secretly preparing for war. [illustration] _u's_ _his majesty_: "_well, tirpitz, you've sunk a great many?_" _tirpitz_: "_yes, sire, here is another u coming down._" * * * * * on august 26, 1915, squadron-commander a. w. bigsworth destroyed single-handed, a german submarine by bombs from his aeroplane off ostend on the coast of belgium. the british admiralty said in reference to this episode: "it is not the practice of the admiralty to publish statements regarding the losses of german submarines, important though they have been, in cases where the enemy have no other sources of information as to the time and place at which these losses have occurred. in the case referred to above, however, the brilliant feat of squadron-commander bigsworth was performed in the immediate neighbourhood of the coast in occupation of the enemy, and the position of the sunken submarine has been located by a german destroyer." [illustration] _pallas athene: "has it come to this?"_ * * * * * when, on sept. 21, after the bulgarian mobilization had begun, m. venizelos, who was then prime minister of greece, asked france and ourselves for 150,000 men, it was on the express understanding that greece would mobilize also. greece did, in fact, mobilize under his direction on sept. 24, but it was not until oct. 2 that m. venizelos found himself able to agree to the landing of british and french troops under the formal protest, a merely formal protest, which he had already made to the french government. on oct. 4--i wish these dates to be borne in mind--m. venizelos announced what had happened to the greek chamber, and at the same time declared that greece must abide by her treaty with serbia. the next day the king repudiated the declaration and then m. venizelos resigned. the new government which succeeded declined to recognize that a casus foederis had arisen between greece and serbia, in spite of our constant insistence that greece should make common cause with serbia, and the new greek government, while declaring their desire to remain on friendly terms with the allies, declined to depart from their attitude of neutrality. h. h. asquith, _house of commons_, _november 2, 1915_. [illustration] _the next to be kicked out_ _dumba's master_ * * * * * by reason of the admitted purpose and intent of mr. dumba to conspire to cripple legitimate industries of the people of the united states and to interrupt their legitimate trade and by reason of the flagrant violation of diplomatic propriety in employing an american citizen protected by an american passport as a secret bearer of official dispatches through the lines of the enemy of austria-hungary, the president directs me to inform your excellency that mr. dumba is no longer acceptable to the government of the united states as the ambassador of his imperial majesty at washington. _official american note requesting the recall of_ mr. dumba, _the austro-hungarian ambassador._ _september, 1916._ [illustration] _september, 1914, and september, 1915_ _the crown prince, 1914_: "_now the war begins as we like it._" _the crown prince, 1915_: "_but this is not as i wished it to continue._" * * * * * towards the end of september, 1916, the british and french armies began an attack upon the german forces at loos and in the champagne. during five days' fighting, over 25,000 prisoners and 125 guns were captured by the allies. [illustration] _idyllic neutrality_ _a daily smuggling scene on the dutch frontier_ * * * * * neutral countries whose frontiers march with those of germany have rendered enormous aid to the central powers by the supply of materials and food. the general practice of evasion has been to smuggle home produce of all sorts for which high prices were forthcoming and use for local consumption similar products imported from other countries over seas. the imports of many lines of merchandise into holland alone are known to have increased from fifty to one hundred per cent. compared with pre-war figures. [illustration] _what should we do without michael?_ _michael_: "_for my 100 marks i obtained a receipt. i gave this for second 100 marks and i received a second receipt. for the third loan i gave the second receipt. have i invested 300 marks and has the government got 300, or have both of us got nothing?_" * * * * * if we desire the possibility of shaping a peace in accordance with our needs and our vital requirements, we must not forget the question of cost. we must see to it that the whole future livelihood of our people shall, so far as is in any way possible, be relieved of the burden. the leaden weight of thousands of millions is due to the people who got up this war. they, not we, shall drag it along with them. of course, we know that this is a matter of peculiar difficulty, but everything that can be done in this direction shall be done. we are paying the money almost exclusively to ourselves, whilst the enemy is paying its loans abroad, a guarantee that in the future we shall maintain the advantage. dr. helfferich, _reichstag, september, 1915._ [illustration] _we don't understand this loan game_ _(in germany there is a game by which children passing a coin from one to another are supposed to, but do not, get richer.)_ * * * * * german statesmen and editors make a boast of the fact that so far they have not raised any war funds by taxation. that is true, but they are pursuing the far less commendable course of raising the money by loans and by "hanky-panky" manipulations of currency paper. dr. helfferich, the imperial minister of finance, recently admitted that he dared not impose further taxation, and it is a fair inference that he knew any such proposals would be futile--that the burdens of the german taxpayers are already as heavy as they can bear. _the nineteenth century and after._ [illustration] _the german loan_ "_don't breathe on the bubble or the whole will collapse_" * * * * * the german war loans have been subscribed mainly by the great companies of germany; by the savings banks, the banks, the life and fire insurance and accident insurance companies, etc. furthermore, these loans have been pyramided; that is to say, a man who subscribed and paid for one hundred thousand marks of loan number one could, when loan number two was called for, take the bonds he had bought of loan number one to his bank and on his agreement to spend the proceeds in subscribing to loan number two, borrow from the bank eighty thousand marks on the security of his first loan bonds, and so on. james w. gerard _in_ "_my four years in germany._" [illustration] "_wounded first_" * * * * * the allan liner _hesperian_ was torpedoed by a german submarine in the english channel on the 4th september, 1915; on board were a number of invalided canadian troops. british admiralty patrol boats were quickly on the spot and succeeded in saving all the passengers and crew with the exception of eight souls. [illustration] _the morning paper_:--"_great news_" * * * * * the press bureau of the war office announces that a fleet of hostile airships visited the eastern counties and a portion of the london area last night and dropped bombs. the following military casualties, in addition to the one announced last night, have been reported: fourteen killed and thirteen wounded. the home office announces the following casualties other than the military casualties reported above: killed--men, 27; women, 9; children, 5; total, 41. injured--men, 64; women, 30; children, 7; total, 101. of these casualties 32 killed and 95 injured were in the london area, and these figures include those announced last night. _london, october, 1915._ [illustration] _van tromp and de reuter_ "_so long as you permit zeppelins to cross our land you surely should cease to boast of our deeds._ _(whenever a dutchman wishes to speak of the great past of his country he calls to mind the names of these heroes.)_ * * * * * many of the zeppelins that raided english towns and villages crossed over holland leaving and returning to their bases in germany. this was held to be a violation of the neutrality of holland and "pro-ally" dutchmen endeavored to make the question an international one. [illustration] _the marshes of pinsk_ _the kaiser_: "_when the leaves fall you'll have peace._"--_they have._ * * * * * the last of the great austro-german strokes had failed, and before the beginning of october, 1915, the line of the enemy in the east was established precisely where it was to be found unchanged until the great offensive delivered upon its southern part by the russians in the beginning of june, 1916. lord kitchener put the matter simply and in words the accuracy of which could be gauged by the exasperation they caused at berlin, when he said that the enemy had now in the east "shot his bolt." it was a phrase exactly true. the expense in men, the difficulty of bringing up munitionment; the entry into territories with worse roads and less opportunities of supply; the fact that the line now reached was cut by the great belt of marshes in the centre--all these things between them brought the great adventure to a stand. hilaire belloc. _in land and water._ [illustration] "_cheer up, austria, you have germans and bulgarians to help you this time_" * * * * * until october, 1915, the austro-hungarian forces entrusted with the invasion and subjection of serbia had failed in their objectives. after an initial success the armies of the dual empire met with several defeats and were finally driven across the danube. at the beginning of the year the serbian campaign was abandoned and field marshal pottionek in command of the austrian armies was removed from his post. [illustration] _ferdinand, the chameleon_ "_i was a catholic, but needing russian help, i became a greek orthodox. now i need the austrians i again become catholic. should things turn out badly i can again revert to greek orthodoxy._" * * * * * bulgaria must fight at the victor's side. the germans and austro-hungarians are victorious on all fronts. russia soon will have collapsed entirely. then will come the turn of france, italy, and serbia. bulgaria would commit suicide if she did not fight on the side of the central powers, which offer the only possibility of realizing her desire for union of all bulgarian peoples. in the beginning none could foresee how events would develop and which side would be victorious. if the government had resolved to participate in the great war it might have committed the fault of joining the side that would have been beaten, and thus jeopardize the existence of the present bulgarian empire. _from bulgarian manifesto. october, 1915._ [illustration] _serbia. autumn, 1915_ "_now we can make an end of him_" * * * * * the balkan campaign is the easiest task ever intrusted to an army leader. if the present plan is carried out it will be impossible for the allies to escape capture or disaster, and the only real military task is to accomplish all this with the smallest possible loss to ourselves. even with the greatest force the anglo-french governments can muster the germanic armies will outnumber them two to one, while the austro-german artillery is in the proportion of five to one. _the azest, budapest, october, 1915._ [illustration] _october in serbia_ _(october in holland is called the "butcher's month," as the flocks are then killed preparatory to the winter.)_ * * * * * on october 7th, 1915, an army of 400,000 austrians, hungarians and germans forced the danube and commenced the great drive on serbia; by the 10th the invaders had captured belgrade. at the same moment the bulgarians in great force attacked the serbians on their right flank and by the 28th joined forces with the teutonic troops. [illustration] _the kaiser counts the bag_ * * * * * on october 13, 1915, about 9:30 at night, fire opened from the skies on the centre of london. that same evening parts of the eastern counties were attacked. in london alone 32 were killed and 95 injured, and the total casualties for the whole area of the raid that night were 56 killed and 113 wounded. a number of houses were damaged, and several fires started. most of the victims were ordinary working folk, doing their ordinary work. motor omnibus conductors died in the street, a messenger boy was killed when delivering a message, a potman died at his work, a caterer was killed while returning from a masonic lodge, a carman's daughter was injured in the legs and lingered until the next morning, a waitress was done to death while returning from a young women's guild, and so on. _times history of the war._ [illustration] "_the entry into constantinople_" _the kaiser_: "_who is this man?_" * * * * * the german emperor will spend christmas in constantinople at the head of his victorious troops. _the pesti-napols, budapest. october, 1915._ [illustration] _go to your hereditary enemy, bulgaria_ * * * * * it must not be forgotten that greece is an independent nation that disposes of its fate in full sovereignty. the austro-german attack on serbia releases greece at least from the obligation of armed intervention, and independent of that attack it is materially impossible for serbia to give greece the support of 150,000 men stipulated in the treaty in case of war with bulgaria, the entente powers have not furnished a contingent equivalent. _grecian note of october 26, 1915._ i deplored the fact that serbia is being left to be crushed by bulgaria, greece's hereditary enemy, who will not scruple later to fall on greece herself. _from speech of_ venizelos _before dissolution of his government._ _november 3, 1915._ [illustration] "_they bowed the knee before him_" _the extermination of armenian christians, autumn of 1915_ * * * * * these atrocities had as their deliberate object the extermination of the armenian race, and it is not difficult to assess the guilt. the guilt lay with the young turkish government at constantinople and with the local officials who acted in collusion with them. but there was a greater criminal even than the young turkish government, for behind turkey stood the country that was turkey's ally and the dominant partner in the policy she pursued. there was a considerable variation in the conduct of individual germans in turkey. the german missionaries seem to have stood laudably by their principles, and the german vice-consul at erzerum is said to have sent the exiles relief. but in the aleppo province and cilicia the german officials, both military and civil, threw themselves actively into the young turks' scheme; at moush and van german officers are believed to have participated directly in the slaughter, and at erzerum they are reported to have taken their share of the armenian girls. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _driven from the temple of humanity_ * * * * * if the porte considers it necessary that armenian insurrections can either go on or should be crushed so as to exclude all possibility of their repetition, then there is no murder and no atrocity, but simply measures of a justifiable and a necessary kind. count von reventlow. i was asked last night to define german militarism, and there is the definition (above) in the devilish spirit of such a judgment and excuse for the cowardly massacre of 800,000 human beings, not all men, but thousands of women and children. t. p. o'connor, m.p. _house of commons, london, november 16, 1915._ [illustration] _the old serb_ "_fighting with the bulgarians against the turk i lost my brothers, my sons fell fighting with the greeks against bulgaria, but only when the germans came were my wife and children killed._" * * * * * in the three districts of polzerie, matchva, and yadar, the various kinds of death and torture inflicted were apportioned as follows: _males_ _females_ victims shot 345 64 victims killed with knives 113 27 victims hanged 7 6 victims massacred and clubbed to death with sticks and 48 26 butt-ends of rifles victims disemboweled 2 4 victims burned alive 35 96 victims pinioned and robbed 52 12 victims whose arms were cut off, torn off, or broken 5 1 victims whose legs were cut off or broken 3 0 victims whose noses were cut off 28 6 victims whose ears were cut off 31 7 victims whose eyes were put out 30 38 victims whose genital organs were mutilated 3 3 victims whose skin was cut in strips, or portions of 15 3 their face detached victims stoned 12 1 victims whose breasts were cut off 0 2 victims cut in pieces 17 16 victims beheaded 1 0 little girl thrown to the pigs 0 1 victims killed without the manner of their deaths 240 5 being specified _serbian government report_, professor r. a. reiss, _university of lausanne, switzerland_. [illustration] _new peace offers_ _von bethmann-hollweg_: "_the worst of it is, i must always deny having been there._" * * * * * in reality none of our enemies has approached us with suggestions of peace. our enemies have rather considered it to their interest to attribute to us falsely offers of peace. both facts have the same explanation--self-deception beyond compare, which we would only make worse if we approached them with peace proposals, instead of waiting for them to come to us. von bethmann-hollweg. _reichstag, december 5, 1915._ [illustration] _ferdinand s'en va t'en guerre ne sait s'il reviendra_ * * * * * in true comradeship the glorious triumphal march of your majesty's nation in arms began, which, under the guidance of its illustrious war lord, has added one sublime leaf of glory to another in the history of bulgaria. in order to give visible expression to my feelings for such deeds, and to the feelings of all germany, i have begged your majesty to accept the dignity of prussian field marshal, and i am, with my army, happy that you, by accepting it, also in this sense _have become one of us_. _the_ german emperor _to_ king ferdinand _of bulgaria at nish, serbia, december, 1916._ [illustration] _the voice of the people_ _the kaiser_: "_don't bother about your people, 'tino. they must do what we say._" * * * * * the venizelist "patris" took another view of the situation on the same date: only those who are unable to foresee things, or who are panic-stricken, would be unable to foretell the evolution of the events immediately following the austro-german attack on serbia. the central empires, not disposing enough troops for this campaign, needed the bulgars, with whom they associated; but they also needed the neutrality of greece, because without it bulgaria would be unable to cooperate with them, as she would have to defend herself against greece. in order to secure bulgar help, the austro-germans used the method of compensation. the whole of serbian macedonia, a part of old serbia, an exit on the adriatic sea, concessions at the expense of turkey--all this was a part of the national problem of the bulgarian lust of conquest. it was in this way that the bulgarians undertook the assassin's job of striking serbia from behind. in order to secure the neutrality of greece, the austro-germans resorted to the prussian method of terrorism, inasmuch as no other concessions and compensations were at hand. both methods have been equally successful. _the athens "patris" current history. special staff correspondence. december, 1915._ [illustration] _truth_ _as painted by the german chancellor_ * * * * * it is well known that france granted loans to russia only under the condition that it develop its polish fortresses and railroads against us; also that england and france regarded belgium as their route of advance against us. we must protect ourselves politically and militarily against this, and also insure our economic development. as i said on aug. 19, we are not the ones who are threatening the small nations. we are battling in this struggle, forced upon us, not to subjugate foreign nations, but to protect our life and freedom. this war remains for the german government what it was in the beginning and what has been maintained in every pronunciamento--a defensive war of the german nation for its future. von bethmann-hollweg. _reichstag, december 9, 1915._ [illustration] _the evacuation of gallipoli_ "_what are you firing at? the british left twenty-four hours ago!_" "_sorry, sir--and what a glorious victory._" * * * * * the enemy were completely deceived. on the afternoon of december 20, 1915, a vigorous attack was begun in the cape helles area against some trenches at the head of the krithia ravine. with the help of fire from warships, the trenches were taken with small loss, and held against counter-attacks delivered that night. this operation helped to divert the enemy's attention. at 3.30 a. m. on the morning of december 21 a huge mine was exploded by the anzacs near russell's top. the turks thought the anzacs were about to attack, and for forty minutes they blazed away furiously with their rifles at the empty trenches. the australians left many letters of farewell to the turks, assuring them that they were clean fighters and that the australians hoped to meet them again. _times history of the war._ the retirement from gallipoli was one of the finest operations in military or naval history. it will take an imperishable place in our national history. h. h. asquith, _prime minister, house of commons, january 10, 1916_. [illustration] _christmas, 1916_ "_the holy war is at the door_" [illustration] _new year's feast of kultur_ * * * * * the british liner _persia_ was sunk by a german submarine on december 30, 1915, southeast of crete, while on her way to the orient. american consul mcneeley, on his way to his post at arden, was among the 335 persons who lost their lives, of which two or more were americans. [illustration] _the poilu_ * * * * * we are not going to grow weary. france has confidence because you are there. how often have i heard your officers say: "never, in any age, have we had a finer army. never have men been better trained, braver, more heroic than ours!" everywhere that i have seen you i have felt myself tremble with admiration and hope. you will conquer. the year now opening will bring you, my friends, the pride of finishing the defeat of the enemy, the joy of returning to your homes, and the sweetness of celebrating the victory there amid those you love. _the president of france to french troops, january, 1916._ [illustration] _the trials of a court painter_ "_i commenced this as the entry into paris, but i must finish it as the entry into nish_" * * * * * hail emperor, cã¦sar and king! thou art victor and glorious. in ancient nish all the peoples of the east salute thee, the redeemer, bringing to the oppressed prosperity and salvation. king ferdinand of bulgaria to the german emperor _on the occasion of the triumphal entry of the two monarchs into nish. january, 1916._ [illustration] _von der goltz goes to the promised land_ * * * * * in january, 1916, field marshal baron von der goltz was appointed commander in chief of the turkish armies in the caucasus. the serious nature of the turkish situation in the caucasus seems to have been realised in berlin but the veteran german general was unable to stem the advance of the victorious russians who were shortly afterwards to capture the great fortress of erzerum with its entire garrison, guns and supplies. [illustration] _the burial of private walker_ * * * * * on september 9, 1914, joseph walker enlisted for the duration of the war; on january 11, 1916, the sea bore his dead body to the dyke at west capelle. this afternoon, at 1 p.m., while the northwest wind whistled over walcheren, the english soldier was buried in the churchyard of west capelle. first the vice-consul in the name of england spread the british flag over him who for england had sacrificed his young life. four men of west capelle carried the coffin outside and placed it at the foot of the tower, that old gray giant, which has witnessed so much world's woe, here opposite the sea. it was a simple, but touching ceremony. "man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live.... he cometh forth like a flower and is cut down." thus spoke the voice of the minister and the wind carried his words, and the wind played with the flag of england, the flag that flies over all seas, in flanders, in france, in the balkans, in egypt, as the symbol of threatened freedom--the flag whose folds here covered a fallen warrior. and in the roaring storm we went our way. there was he carried, the soldier come to rest, and the flag fluttered in the wind and wrapped itself round that son of england. then the coffin sank into the ground and the hearts of us, the departing witnesses, were sore. earth fell on it, and the preacher said: "earth to earth, dust to dust." _from the amsterdam telegraaf, january, 1916._ [illustration] _"come and be happy at potsdam"_ * * * * * the little kingdom of montenegro was conquered by the austrians in january, 1916. although the austrians were present in overwhelming force, a substantial part of the montenegrin army were able to escape and join the serbs who were in albania. upon the fall of montenegro, the kaiser invited the king to accept german hospitality in berlin. the king refused and escaped to france, taking up his residence at lyon. [illustration] _tom thumb and the giant_ "_come and save me, you know i am fond of children_" * * * * * on february 1, 1916, the small fishing trawler _king stephen_ from grimsby found the german zeppelin l 19 floating in the north sea with her crew clinging to her. the captain of the trawler refused to take the crew of the zeppelin on board his boat, fearing he would be overpowered and captured. his action caused a great outcry in germany, notwithstanding the fact that the zeppelin was doubtless responsible for the death of many women and children in england and had actually dropped a bomb on a steamer during the previous night and left the crew to perish. [illustration] _on the way to bagdad_ "_halt_" * * * * * the assault on the forts (erzerum) and the principal position lasted from february 11 till february 15 inclusive. after we had taken the forts on the left flank of the principal turkish line of defense, extending about 27 miles, the fate of the forts in the centre and on the right flank, and, after them, of the second line forts and the principal defensive position, was decided on february 16 after short attacks. these fortifications, which were full of turkish dead, remained in our possession. during the assault on the fortress several turkish regiments were annihilated or made prisoners with all their officers. on the line of forts alone we took 197 pieces of artillery of various calibres in good condition. in the defence works of the central fortress we took another 126 pieces of artillery. in the fortified region of erzerum we took a large number of depã´ts of various kinds, which have already been mentioned by the headquarter staff. the exact number of turkish prisoners is 235 officers and 12,753 men. _russian official report on the capture of erzerum._ [illustration] _the holy war_ _the turk_: "_but he is so great._" _william_: "_no one is great save allah and i am his prophet._" * * * * * about the time turkey became involved in the war a telegram was published as having been sent from kaiser wilhelm to the crown prince announcing with evident satisfaction that the supreme moslem authorities at constantinople had given their sanction to the declaration of a holy war against russia, england, and france "as oppressors of the moslems." at one time it looked as though the aspirations implied by this message might be carried out. there was a mutiny at singapore in which moslem troops were implicated; there were outbreaks in the italian tripolitana and among the senoussi tribesmen on the western border of egypt; there was at least a threat against the suez canal, from the direction of beersheba, and there was, or seemed to be, the possibility of a pro-german uprising in persia. the advance of the russians from the caspian has dissipated this last possibility; the suez canal is no longer even threatened; the senoussi have given their submission. finally, from india, from sultan mohammed aga khan, who is the spiritual head of the many million moslems in india, comes a declaration which shows that the hopes of a holy war, as it seems to have been expected in germany, were never anything more than a myth. "_current history_," _new york._ [illustration] _the kaiser_: "_your ruthlessness has failed, tirpitz; i must pin my faith to count zeppelin._" * * * * * the ruthless submarine policy introduced by von tirpitz earlier in the war and which was guaranteed to "bring proud albion to her knees" had completely failed in its object by spring, 1916. after a bitter fight between von tirpitz and his opponents of whom the chief was the chancellor himself, the admiral on march 16, 1916, resigned his office of secretary of state for the imperial navy. [illustration] _gott strafe england_ _"father says i must do the same with france"_ * * * * * we have seen that corps were specially called back to the interior of germany for reposing, training and even feeding calculated towards the end in view. light railways were built upon every side. heavy artillery was concentrated to the number of over one thousand pieces--all that could be spared--and slowly massed in the woods by spincourt, and an immense head of shell accumulated during the four winter months. the unfit were thoroughly combed out and every possible man taken to swell the german effectives. class 1916 after some four months' training was sent forward to the local depots behind the front with the object of throwing it into the fighting the moment the losses should become serious. class 1917 began to be called out (in the month of december). on the 19th of february, 1916, the first shots of the intensive bombardment against the verdun sector were fired, and on monday the 21st of february the great german offensive was launched. hilaire belloc. _in land and water._ [illustration] _william_: "_you lead new regiments upon verdun, whilst i weep over the losses of the old ones._" * * * * * of the german corps known to have been engaged the 3rd and 18th corps have been entirely used up, or "spent," as the military phrase goes. the 7th reserve corps has lost half, and the 15th corps three-quarters, of its available strengths. the german forces had by the evening of march 3 "used up," in addition to those already mentioned, a part of the 113th division, the 5th reserve corps, and the bavarian ersatz division, without taking into account the losses of other reinforcements, whose presence on the battlefield has not yet been definitely ascertained. none of the prisoners questioned estimated the losses suffered by their companies at less than one-third of the total effectives. taking into account all available indications, it may safely be assumed that, during the fighting of the last 13 days, the germans have lost in killed, wounded, and prisoners at least 100,000 men. lord northcliffe's _despatch from verdun, march 4, 1916_ [illustration] "_nobody sees me, so i can always deny it._" * * * * * in march, 1916, a great neutral passenger ship, the dutch liner _tubantia_, was sunk in the north sea. all the passengers and crew were saved with one exception. the dutch government protested to the german government which disclaimed all responsibility, stating that the explosion which sunk the vessel must have been due to a british mine. during the dutch government's investigation members of the crew testified to having seen the wake of a torpedo although no submarine was observed. evidence was produced which indicated that the _tubantia_ was the victim of a submarine attack. [illustration] _pan germanicus as peace maker_ _the dove_: "_they say they do not want peace as they have time enough._" _the eagle_: "_alas! that is just what we haven't got._" * * * * * gentlemen, i have spoken candidly. i have been able to say openly that we desire peace, because the german nation is sufficiently strong, and because it is resolved to continue the fight in defense of home and country should its enemies not wish for peace. the imperial chancellor knows that the whole world is waiting in breathless expectation his reply to our interpellation. i trust that he will find the redeeming words, and that he will express his readiness to enter into peace negotiations. philip scheidemann, _chairman german socialist party, reichstag, march, 1916._ [illustration] "_we have only come to see that the english don't threaten you._" * * * * * the germans left no stones unturned to influence the dutch in their favor. they deluged the newspaper offices with free propaganda, telegraphed at great expense from berlin, and supplied free copies of the berlin journals. everything possible was to spread distrust of the english, who were constantly accused of having designs on the integrity of holland and of desiring to take possession of the scheldt. this was carried so far that a panic was created on march 31, 1916, by the report of landing of the entente forces in zeeland. the report, which was without any foundation, was circulated by the germans and spread like wild fire around the country. _the times history of the war._ [illustration] _hohenzollern madness_ _the storming of dead man's hill_ * * * * * we figure that the attempt to rush this important position (their object was to capture le mort homme, in order to render untenable the key sector of pepper hill and douaumont) cost the germans fully 30,000 men, of whom an unusually high proportion were killed, owing to their inability to succor and save the slightly wounded. perhaps now the enemy will realize that he has reached a stalemate, for the abrupt breakdown of yesterday's attempt against vaux and douaumont proves once more it is impossible to advance there while we hold le mort homme, and the latter must seem to be impregnable. _french official eyewitness. march 26, 1916._ [illustration] _"my son lies here, where are yours?"_ [illustration] the old poilu * * * * * soldiers of the army of verdun! for three weeks you have been exposed to the most formidable assaults yet attempted against us by the enemy. germany counted upon the success of this effort, which she believed to be irresistible, and to which she has devoted her best troops and her most powerful artillery. she hoped that the capture of verdun would revive the courage of her allies and would convince neutral countries of german superiority. she had reckoned without you. night and day, despite a bombardment without precedent, you have resisted all attacks and maintained our positions. the struggle is not yet at an end, for the germans require a victory. you will succeed in wresting it from them. we have munitions and reserves in abundance; but, above all, you have indomitable courage and faith in the destinies of the republic. the eyes of the country are upon you. you will be among those of whom it will be said: they barred the road to verdun to the germans. general joffre _to the french army at verdun, march, 1916._ [illustration] _"german chivalry on the sea"_ * * * * * the british submarine _e13_ ran aground on the danish island of saltholm within the three mile limit. whilst in this helpless position, unable to attack or to defend herself she was shelled by a large german destroyer. of her crew of thirty, fifteen were killed. [illustration] _the eternal barrage_ * * * * * the british official press bureau reports the german casualties during february, 1916, at 35,198, of whom 10,211 were killed or died either of wounds or sickness; 2,017 missing, 5,217 severely wounded, 1,340 prisoners, 11,865 slightly wounded. the german casualties during march, including the slaughter at verdun and the sanguinary struggles in the eastern theatre, are estimated at 175,000. this estimate, added to the previous reports, swell the german losses since the beginning of the war--including all german nationalities: prussians, bavarians, saxons, and wã¼rttembergers, but excluding naval and colonial casualties--to the grand total of 2,842,372, of which number about 660,000 were killed and died of wounds, 40,000 died of sickness, 120,000 are prisoners, 220,000 are missing, 365,000 are severely wounded, 265,000 wounded, about 1,050,000 slightly wounded, 140,000 wounded remaining with units. the number killed in action, estimating one-half the missing as killed, is over 25 per cent. of the total. [illustration] _von bethmann-hollweg's peace song_ * * * * * this new europe in many respects cannot resemble the past. the blood which has been shed will never be repaid, and the wealth which has been destroyed can only slowly be replaced. but, whatever else this europe may be, it must be for the nations that inhabit it a land of peaceful labor. the peace which shall end this war shall be a lasting peace. it must not bear the germ of new wars, but must provide for a peaceful arrangement of european questions. von bethmann-hollweg. _reichstag, april 5, 1916._ [illustration] "_why, i have killed you twice and you dare to come back again!_" * * * * * the capture of trebizond, the most important turkish city on the black sea, marks another important step in russia's historic campaign in asia minor. after a sanguinary battle at kara dera on april 14 the grand duke's troops broke through the fierce resistance of the turks and, with the cooperation of the russian black sea fleet, fought their way three days later into the fortified city of trebizond. with this strongest point on the anatolian coast in russian hands, the menace to the back door of constantinople becomes imminent. _current history, new york._ [illustration] "_mais quand la voix de dieu l'appela il se voyait seul sur la terre au milieu de fantomes tristes et sans nombre._" * * * * * the latest estimate of german losses at verdun is 200,000! does the kaiser, at safe distance, still "look on"? what blessing has this monarch of a great and productive realm brought upon his people? mourning, desolation, and irremediable misery! no triumph, no victory can atone for such a deluge of blood and tears! that capricious personage "somewhere in heaven," whom wilhelm calls "unser gott," may possibly resent the deliberate casting away of golden opportunities on the part of his crowned earthly "familiar," to whom a peaceful world was offered, only to be kicked aside for a battered helmet and broken sword! "thrust in thy sickle and reap!" o emperor of a brief and bitter day! the harvest of death, not life!--the harvest of curses, not blessings! the thousands of dead men--dead in the very strength of manhood--sacrificed in a holocaust on the flaming altar of the wickedest war the world has ever seen, may have their own story to tell to "unser gott"; so may the bereaved and wretched women whose husbands and sons have been torn from their arms forever. marie corelli _in the sunday times, london, april, 1916._ [illustration] _the deportations from lille_ * * * * * the attitude of england renders it increasingly difficult to feed the population. to lessen misery, the german authority has recently asked volunteers to work in the country. this offer has not had the success which was expected. consequently the inhabitants will be removed by compulsion and transported to the country. those removed will be sent in the interior of french occupied territory far behind the front, where they will be employed in agriculture and in no way in military work. _german proclamation. lille, april, 1916._ upon the order of general von graevenitz and with the assistance of infantry regiment 64, sent by the german general headquarters, about 25,000 french, young girls from 16 to 20 years old, young women and men up to the age of 55 years, without distinction of social condition, were torn from their homes at roubaix, tourcoing, and lille, pitilessly separated from their families, and forced to do agricultural work in the departments of the aisne and ardennes. _french official report._ [illustration] _the last throw_ * * * * * these are not, as our enemies are pretending to believe, the last exertions of an exhausted nation, but the hammer blows of a strong, invincible people which commands sufficient reserves in men and all other means for the continuation of the hammer blows. _the prussian war minister_, general wild von hohenborn, _the reichstag, april 11, 1916._ [illustration] _russia to france_ * * * * * on the 20th of april, 1916, a number of transports arrived at marseilles carrying a large number of russian troops for the support of france. the troops had come by water through the east. russian troops continued to arrive in france for some time afterwards. [illustration] _the death's head hussar at verdun_ * * * * * in short, with ever-ebbing vigor, the german army is smashing its head against the walls of verdun. the weight and vigor of the blows decrease, but the suicidal mania continues. two months have passed since the early success of the german attack ended with the capture of vaux village. each resumption of the attempt to take verdun since that time has been a cause for increasing wonder. what is there about this enterprise that has turned it into a fatal obsession, from which the german high command cannot escape, however great the cost of continuance? _from the paris figaro. april, 1915._ [illustration] _sir judas casement_ * * * * * on april 24 sir roger casement, a former consul general, was captured in the act of trying to land german arms on the west coast of ireland. he had been conveyed thither in a german submarine, with two irish soldiers from german prisons. a german auxiliary cruiser loaded with 20,000 rifles and ammunition was taken and sunk at the same time. the vessel was sunk by its own men, and the twenty-two german bluejackets on board were made prisoners.... casement had last been heard of in germany, where he had attempted to induce irish prisoners of war to join an anti-british expedition to ireland. testimony at his preliminary trial in london subsequently showed that on good friday he had landed near tralee from the german submarine u-19 with a soldier named bailey and another named monteith. in "mckinna's fort" he was seen to drop a paper containing a code and the words: "await further instructions. have decided to stay. further ammunition and rifles are needed. send another ship." the small collapsible boat in which he and his companions had landed also helped to betray them, and casement and bailey were arrested before they could get away in the automobile which was waiting for them. _current history, new york._ [illustration] _great britain and ireland_ * * * * * the manifesto of the provisional government of the irish republic did not secure the support or signature of a single elected representative of any section of the irish people, or of any man who had won influence by public services for ireland. its signatories were a convicted dynamiter, a handful of minor poets, journalists and schoolmasters, a junior corporation official, and a syndicalist leader. the movement, wrote mr. redmond, was insane and anti-patriotic: "germany plotted it, germany organized it, germany paid for it. so far as germany's share in it is concerned, it is a german invasion of ireland, as brutal, as selfish, as cynical as germany's invasion of belgium." _the times history of the war._ [illustration] _the graves of all his hopes_ [illustration] "_the sussex_" "_you need cooling, my friend_" * * * * * i have deemed it my duty, therefore, to say to the imperial german government that if it is still its purpose to prosecute relentless and indiscriminate warfare against vessels of commerce by the use of submarines, notwithstanding the now demonstrated impossibility of conducting that warfare in accordance with what the government of the united states must consider the sacred and undisputable rules of international law and the universally recognized dictates of humanity, the government of the united states is at last forced to the conclusion that there is but one course it can pursue and that unless the german imperial government should now declare and effect the abandonment of its present methods of warfare against passenger and freight-carrying vessels, this government can have no choice but to sever diplomatic relations with the government of the german empire altogether. president wilson's _address to congress, april 19, 1916._ [illustration] "_i thought you said you were too proud to fight!_" * * * * * this decision i have arrived at, to break off diplomatic relations with germany unless her methods of submarine warfare were abandoned, with the keenest regret; the possibility of the action contemplated i am sure all thoughtful americans will look forward to with unaffected reluctance. but we cannot forget that we are in some sort and by the force of circumstances the responsible spokesmen of the rights of humanity, and that we cannot remain silent while those rights seem in process of being swept utterly away in the maelstrom of this terrible war. we owe it to a due regard for our own rights as a nation, to our sense of duty as a representative of the rights of neutrals the world over, and to a just conception of the rights of mankind to take this stand now with the utmost solemnity and firmness. president wilson's _address to congress. april 19th, 1916._ [illustration] "_indeed, i am the most humane fellow in the world._" * * * * * the german government attaches no less importance to the sacred principles of humanity than the government of the united states. it again fully takes into account that both governments for many years cooperated in developing international law in conformity with these principles, the ultimate object of which has always been to confine warfare on sea and land to armed forces of belligerents and safeguard as far as possible noncombatants against the horrors of war. _german gov't. reply to u. s. government in sussex case. may, 1916._ [illustration] _von tirpitz_: "_well, my dears, i'm afraid you will have to improve your manners--for a while at least._" * * * * * the german government notifies the government of the united states that german naval forces have received the following order: in accordance with the general principles of visit and search and the destruction of merchant vessels, recognized by international law, such vessels, both within and without the area declared a naval war zone, shall not be sunk without warning and without saving human lives unless the ship attempt to escape or offer resistance. _imperial german government to united states government. may 4, 1916._ [illustration] "_well, mr. president, if you insist, we shall try to behave like gentlemen._" * * * * * in view of the circumstances the german government frankly admits that the assurance given to the american government, in accordance with which passenger vessels were not to be attacked without warning, has not been adhered to in the present case. as was intimated by the undersigned in the note of the 4th instant, the german government does not hesitate to draw from this resultant consequences. it therefore expresses to the american government its sincere regret regarding the deplorable incident and declares its readiness to pay an adequate indemnity to the injured american citizens. it also disapproved of the conduct of the commander, who has been appropriately punished. von jagow, _german foreign secretary to united states government, 8th may, 1916._ [illustration] _gott strafe verdun_ "_i wish i knew whether it is wiser to retreat or to advance_" verdun * * * * * for more than two months the battle of verdun has raged almost ceaselessly day and night. it is conceded that germany has concentrated picked troops and heavy guns in quantities never before seen in war. yet, apart from the first withdrawal of general petain's army from outlying positions to definite lines of defense, the two months fighting has not given the attacking forces a gain of two miles. _current history, new york._ [illustration] _german militarism on the allies' operating table_ "_for the sake of the world's future we must first use the knife_" * * * * * the germans have come with floating mines in the open seas, threatening belligerents and neutrals equally. they have come with the undiscriminating and murderous zeppelin, which does military damage only by accident. they have come with the submarine, which destroys neutral and belligerent ships and crews, in scorn alike of law and mercy. they have come upon blameless nations with invasion, incendiarism, and confiscation. they have come with poisonous gases and liquid fire. all their scientific genius has been dedicated to wiping out human life. they have forced these things into general use in the war. the prussian authorities apparently have but one idea of peace--an iron peace imposed on other nations by german supremacy. they do not understand that free men and free nations will rather die than submit to that ambition, and that there can be no end to the war till that aim is defeated and renounced. _from an interview with_ sir edward grey, _in the chicago news, may, 1916._ [illustration] _empire day, 1916_ * * * * * when germany challenged us nearly two years ago to uphold with our lives the ideals by which we professed to live, we accepted the challenge, not out of madness, nor for glory or for gain, but to make good those professions. since then the allies and our empire have fought that they may be free and all earth may be free from the intolerable domination of german ideals. we did not foresee the size of the task when it opened. we do not flinch from it now that the long months have schooled us to full knowledge and have tempered us nationally and individually to meet it. the nations within the empire have created, maintained, and reinforced from their best the great armies they devote without question to this issue. they have emerged, one by one, as powers clothed with power through discipline and sacrifice, strong for good by their bitter knowledge of the evil they are meeting, and wise in the unpurchasable wisdom of actual achievement. knowing as nations what it is we fight for, realizing as men and women the resolve that has been added to us by what each has endured, we go forward now under the proud banner of our griefs and losses to greater effort, greater endurance, and, if need be, heavier sacrifice, equal sponsors for the deliverance of mankind. rudyard kipling, _on empire day, may 24, 1916._ [illustration] _the spring song_ [illustration] _the german_: "_if you will let me keep what i have i will let you go_" * * * * * i have twice publicly stated that germany has been and is prepared to discuss the termination of the war upon a basis that offers guarantee against further attack from a coalition of her enemies and insures peace to europe. you have read president poincarã©'s answer to that. one thing i do know--only when statesmen of the warring nations come down to a basis of real facts, when they take the war situation as every war map shows it to be, when, with honest and sincere will they are prepared to terminate this terrible bloodshed and are ready to discuss the war and peace problems with one another in a practical manner, only then will we be nearing peace. whoever is not prepared to do that has the responsibility for it if europe continues to bleed and tear itself to pieces. i cast that responsibility far from myself. von bethmann-hollweg _to berlin correspondent of new york world. may 22, 1916._ [illustration] _the wandering jew_ "_once i turned the christ from my door; now i must wander from the northern to the southern seas--from eastern to the western shores ... asking for peace, but never finding it._" [illustration] _gratitude of the women of france to the king of spain for the tracing of the missing_ * * * * * the soul of the royal work for the discovery of the missing is don emilio-maria de torres, minister plenipotentiary and private secretary to his majesty. it is in the offices of his secretariat, in the palacio real, that this work is installed; it was soon so crowded there that it became necessary to give up to it four halls, and then eight, in order that the collaborators, becoming more and more numerous, might work comfortably. in may, 1916, the work of the king, already a year old, occupied at madrid twenty-eight persons, who began their day at eight in the morning and sometimes worked far into the night. mme. gabrielle reval _in la revue des deux mondes._ [illustration] _the bill_ * * * * * it is proved that from may 20 to may 25 (1916) seven different divisions were flung into the battle on both sides of the meuse. four of these were brought from other points of the western front--two from flanders, two from the somme. on the left bank alone four divisions were employed in the last week-end fighting. without a thought of the enormous losses caused by our curtain fire and machine guns, the german command threw them one after the other into the boiling pot east and west of mort homme. on may 22 alone, before the capture of cumiã¨res village, which has now been retaken, the enemy made no fewer than 16 attacks upon the front from the avocourt wood to the meuse. over 50,000 men sought that day to climb the slopes of mort homme and the plateau of hill 304. the great charnel heap had 15,000 fresh corpses flung upon it without the french lines having yielded. _official despatch from verdun front._ [illustration] _the last ride_ [illustration] _caged_ * * * * * during an enterprise directed to the northward our high sea fleet on may 31 encountered the main part of the english fighting fleet, which was considerably superior to our forces. during the afternoon, between skagerrak and horn reef, a heavy engagement developed, which was successful to us, and which continued during the whole night.... _the high sea fleet returned today (thursday) into our port._ _german admiralty report. berlin, june 1, 1916._ on the afternoon of wednesday, the 31st of may, a naval engagement took place off the coast of jutland. the british ships on which the brunt of the fighting fell were the battle cruiser fleet and some cruisers and light cruisers, supported by four fast battleships. among these the losses were heavy. the german battle fleet, aided by low visibility, avoided a prolonged action with our main forces. as soon as these appeared on the scene _the enemy returned to port_, though not before receiving severe damage from our battleships. _british admiralty report. london, june 2, 1916._ [illustration] _the battle of jutland_ _william falstaff_: "_i know not what you call all, but if i fought not with the whole british fleet, then i am a bunch of radish._" * * * * * our high sea fleet on may 31 encountered _the main part of the english fleet_. on our side the small cruiser _wiesbaden_, by hostile gunfire during the day engagement, and his majesty's ship _pommern_, during the night, as the result of a torpedo, were sunk. the fate of his majesty's ship _frauenlob_, which is missing, and of some torpedo boats, which have not returned yet, is unknown. _german admiralty report. june 1, 1916._ * * * * * in order to prevent fabulous reports, it is again stated that in the battle off skagerrak on may 31 the german high sea forces were in battle with _the entire modern english fleet_. we were obliged to blow up the small cruiser _elbing_, which, on the night of may 31-june 1, owing to a collision with other german war vessels, was heavily damaged. _german admiralty report. june 3, 1916._ we state that the total loss of the german high sea forces during the battle of may 31-june 1 and the following time are: one battle cruiser, one ship of the line of older construction, four small cruisers, and five torpedo boats. of these losses, the _pommern_, launched in 1905; the _wiesbaden_, _elbing_, _frauenlob_, and five torpedo boats already have been reported in official statements. for military reasons, we refrained until now from making public the losses of the vessels _lã¼tzow_ and _rostock_. _german admiralty report. june 8, 1916._ [illustration] "_at last, tirpitz, i may tender my imperial thanks publicly._" * * * * * after visiting my fleet, which returned victoriously from a heavy battle, i feel i must again declare to you my imperial thanks for what you have performed in my service in the technical domain and the domain of organization. our ships and weapons upheld themselves brilliantly in the battle in the north sea. it is also for you a day of glory. the german emperor _to_ grand admiral von tirpitz. _june, 1916._ before the battle of jutland von tirpitz retired from his post as minister of the navy on the ground of ill health. he is credited with being responsible for the submarine policy of ruthlessness which the german government were forced to moderate on account of president wilson's firm attitude in the sussex episode. [illustration] "_we had almost beaten the boy when his father arrived and then we had to run for our lives._" * * * * * the germans were driven back into their ports without so much as making an effort to grapple with the main body of our grand fleet, and had the temerity to claim what really was a rout as a complete victory. a couple more such victories and there will be nothing left of the german navy worth speaking about. the truth is slowly leaking out, and its full extent is not yet realized or appreciated. our command of the seas, so far from being impaired, has been more firmly and unshakably established. h. h. asquith, _british prime minister._ [illustration] _der tag_ _thank god, "the day" is over_ * * * * * first--it was admitted that "the small cruiser _wiesbaden_ was sunk" and that the _pommern_--the character of that ship not being mentioned--had also been destroyed; the light cruiser _frauenlob_ was "missing," with "some torpedo boats." the rest of the high seas fleet, it was declared, "had returned to our harbors." second--it had to be confessed that the light cruiser _elbing_ had been sunk. third--a statement was issued to the effect that "one battle cruiser, (the _lã¼tzow_,) one ship of the line of older construction, (the _pommern_,) four smaller cruisers," (the _wiesbaden_, _elbing_, _frauenlob_, and _rostock_,) and "five torpedo boats" (really destroyers) represented "the total loss." fourth--it is now known that the battle cruiser _seydlitz_ was run ashore to save her from sinking. it is asserted by travelers who have returned to amsterdam that the battle cruiser _derfflinger_ sank "on being towed into wilhelmshaven," and it is reported from copenhagen that the _pommern_ was not the battleship which was torpedoed in the baltic by a british submarine in july last, but a new battle cruiser which was named after the german state, thus perpetuating its association with the navy. the story of the sinking of the dreadnought battleship _ostfriesland_ awaits confirmation. archibald hurd _in the london daily telegraph._ [illustration] _german admiral_: _how quiet it must be in those english harbors blockaded by our fleet._ [illustration] _the death of kitchener_ * * * * * field marshal lord horatio herbert kitchener, the british secretary of state for war, perished with his staff off the west orkney islands on june 5 by the sinking of the british cruiser _hampshire_, which struck a mine and went down fifteen minutes later. "o death, where is thy sting? o grave, where is thy victory?" formerly they had sounded in our ears as chords of solemn music, breathing consolation; now that we see them clearly to be triumphant verities, living and everlasting truths, they ring out like a trumpet call, summoning and inspiring the living to stronger action. the work continues though the hand that moulded it perishes; the body dies, but the soul lives on. there is no sting in the grave when on either side men press forward to one immortal goal and when living and dead battle together for incorruptible principles. whether individually we live or die signifies nothing, if that high cause for which we fight wins. lord kitchener's death will not interfere with the work he had undertaken, nor shall his passing delay, but rather shall it hasten the victory to which he looked forward. _land and water, london, june 8, 1916._ [illustration] _crown prince_: "_we must have a higher pile to see verdun, father._" * * * * * the crown prince, after the gigantic effort of his armies, was confronted with problems more vast, with a resistance more confident and more efficient, than those which he had had to face in the opening days of the verdun offensive. in three days the french had been driven off their first positions along a large portion of the verdun front; over a month later they were still defending with increasing vigour their second line. behind that line lay yet another, and the prospect of the fall of verdun was but faint upon the german horizon. the french could already count upon victory, the price of verdun having already been exacted in the enemy's blood, without the position having been captured. that price, it was said, had been fixed by the imperial general staff at 200,000 casualties. _the times history of the war._ [illustration] _this will make william jealous; it beats his nurse cavell._ * * * * * signor baltisti, before the war, was deputy for trent in the austrian parliament, and in that position was a strong advocate of irredentist claims in the trentino. when war broke out he joined a trentino regiment under the italian flag. he was captured by the austrians in june, 1916, and executed, although he wore an italian uniform. his corpse was publicly hanged on a gibbet in the city of trent. [illustration] _summer time, 1916--five on a bench_ * * * * * the summer of 1916 saw the germans defeated at verdun on the somme and at riga. the austrians were defeated in the trentino and the bukovina. the turks continued their retreat in asia minor and the caucasus, while the entente allies advanced upon the bulgarians from saloniki. [illustration] _civilisation_: "_what is the verdict._" * * * * * the government has carried on the war in accordance with methods which are even incompatible with everything which has been done hitherto--the violation of belgium and luxemburg; the use of poison gases, which were subsequently used by the other belligerents; there were zeppelin bombs which killed both combatants and noncombatants, a submarine war on commerce, the torpedoing of the _lusitania_, etc.; pillage and extortion of tribute, beginning with belgium; the internment and imprisonment of the population of the eastern provinces; various devices for forcing prisoners to work against their own country, by spying for the central powers, thereby committing an act of high treason; contracts arranged between zimmermann and sir roger casement in december, 1915, for the formation of armed units of english prisoners of war, for the purpose of forming the irish brigade. besides these, other attempts must be mentioned, which were made among the foreigners in concentration camps in germany, threatening them with internment unless they betrayed their own countries and placed themselves at germany's disposal. karl liebknecht. _june, 1916_. [illustration] _to the end_ _war and hunger_: "_now you must accompany us to the end._" _the kaiser_: "_yes, to my end._" [illustration] _the confederates_ "_did they believe that peace story in the reichstag, bethmann?_" "_yes, but the allies didn't._" * * * * * germany, using in turn force when she believes herself strongest and craft when she feels herself growing feebler, is today resorting to craft. she is spreading abroad the illusive word "peace." where does this word come from? to whom has it been spoken? and on what conditions? and to what end? by her ambiguous man[oe]uvres germany reckons on dividing the allied countries. no one among us will fall into such a trap. i have said, and i repeat, that when blood flows in streams, when our troops with so much self-sacrifice are giving up their lives, the word "peace" is a sacrilege if it means that the aggressor will not be punished and if tomorrow europe runs the risk of again being delivered up to the despotism, fantasy, and caprice of a military caste athirst for pride and domination. it would be the dishonor of the allies! what should our reply be if tomorrow, after having concluded such a peace, our countries were dragged anew into the frenzy of armaments? what would future generations say if we committed such an act of folly and if we missed the opportunity which is offered us of establishing on solid foundations a lasting peace? aristide briand, _premier of france. june, 1916._ [illustration] "_bunkered_" * * * * * it is one of the greatest sources of pride for the verdun army to have earned the testimony of the great assembly which incarnates and immortalizes the genius of the french tongue and the french race. the army of verdun has had the good fortune to answer to the appeal addressed to it by the country. thanks to its heroic tenacity the offensive of the allies has already made brilliant progress ... and the germans are not at verdun. general nivelle _to the french army at verdun, june, 1916._ [illustration] "_we have finished off the russians._" "_wait a moment_" * * * * * russian offensive, june, 1916 the blow which the russians have delivered to the teutons has been one of the hardest given to any belligerent during the entire war. not even the great german drive of last year has had the effect of the russian offense of the past six weeks. in this case it is much more than a loss of territory; it is almost the destruction of an army. russia had vast reserves on which to fall back. austria apparently has none. austria alone of all the belligerents is practically exhausted. only a week ago the austrian department of war endeavored to get the consent of the government to call into the military service all men between the ages of 56 and 60. nothing could show more eloquently the very dire straits into which the austrian army has fallen. j. b. w. gardiner. _current history._ [illustration] _the cossacks' song of victory_ * * * * * the petrograd official _communiquã©_ of june 27, 1916, stated that the prisoners and trophies captured by the armies of general brusiloff between june 4-23 amounted to 4,031 officers, 194,041 men, 219 guns, besides 644 machine-guns, 196 bomb mortars, 146 artillery ammunition wagons and 38 searchlights. the enormous importance of the russian victories of june, 1916, as a step in the attrition of the enemy forces was patent; the losses suffered by the enemy on the eastern front during those three weeks were about equal to those he had suffered at verdun in 130 days of fighting. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _captain fryatt_ * * * * * captain charles fryatt, master of the great eastern railway's steamer _brussels_, which was captured by german warships on june 23, 1916, and taken to zeebrugge, was tried by german courtmartial at bruges, july 27, condemned to death by shooting, and executed immediately. the charge against him was that of attempting to ram the german submarine u-33. his majesty's government find it difficult to believe that a master of a merchant vessel who, after german submarines adopted the practice of sinking merchant vessels without warning and without regard for the lives of passengers or crew, took a step which appeared to afford the only chance of saving not only his vessel, but the lives of all on board, can have been deliberately shot in cold blood for this action. _british foreign office._ [illustration] _before the somme_ _william_: "_why are you so heavily bombarding the remains of that 'contemptible little british army?_" _prince of bavaria_: "_i am afraid the remains are bombarding us._" * * * * * the german view of the situation at the end of june was well shown in a typical article by the military correspondent of the "berliner tageblatt," major moraht, actually published on july 1. the writer began by declaring that "all the belligerent armies were now at a critical stage." the allies had undoubtedly increased the energy and the uniformity of their conduct of war, and their great resources in money and men and their command of the sea would enable them to do everything possible "to hamper germany's final victory." the british offensive was about to begin, and "without a serious settlement of accounts with england on the battlefields in the west the germans would not come a step nearer to peace." major moraht and the other german writers betrayed no sense of the immensity of the coming events, and it was clear that the germans had not begun to dream of the defeats that were about to be inflicted upon them. _the times history of the war._ [illustration] _the german tango_ "_from east to west, and west to east, i dance with thee_" [illustration] _the wolf_: "_is it not time to stop all further bloodshed?_" * * * * * during the early days of july, 1916, a general offensive on the part of the allies began. the french and british armies attacked on the somme, taking many towns and villages and thousands of prisoners. the russians continued their victorious advance in the bukowina and began a tremendous offensive far north on the riga front. the italian troops attacked in the trentino and captured important fortified austrian positions. [illustration] _the deutschland dispatch_ "_never mind, mr. wilson; it is only a little lusitania blood on the envelope_" * * * * * on july 9th the german merchant submarine _deutschland_ arrived at baltimore carrying a cargo of 1,000 tons of merchandise, principally dye stuffs. according to a statement by captain koenig, commander of the _deutschland_, she was the first of a number of similar vessels which were being built for the purpose of breaking the british blockade of germany. it was stated at the time that the captain of the submarine brought a personal letter from the german emperor to president wilson. [illustration] _balaam and his ass_ * * * * * what, german people, is your duty in this hour? the army wants no exhortations. it has fought superhumanly. it will fight until final victory. but the people at home--this is their duty: to suffer in silence, to bear their renunciations with dignity. the kaiser, _july, 1916_. [illustration] _team work_ * * * * * the great armies recruited and trained by lord kitchener, with the mountains of munitions piled up by lloyd george, have become a tremendous weapon in the skilled hands of general sir douglas haig; and they are supported on the right by a french army under general foch that has shown itself more than able to keep pace with them. it must not be forgotten that the battle of the somme is a joint enterprise of close teamwork under the supreme direction of general joffre. thus far we have heard less of the french than of the english wing, but its achievement has been equally brilliant. the germans caught between these frenchmen and peronne, like those caught between the british and bapaume, have resisted to the limit of human endurance, but nothing human could survive the awful blasting of high explosives to which their first and second trench lines were subjected; and the allies now have the shells and the men to keep up the pressure indefinitely. _current history, new york, july, 1916._ [illustration] "_i hope, my dear friends and allies, that i have been able to make you feel happy and confident again._" * * * * * the battle is raging, huge beyond all previous imagination. rejuvenated, perfectly equipped with all they want, russia's armies again have broken against our bulwarks in the east. france has experienced a regeneration in this war of which she hardly believed herself capable. she has dragged her dilatory english ally into joining the offensive on the somme, and whatever inward worth the british army has it now has an abundance of artillery. the kaiser, _july, 1916_. [illustration] _another nail in hindenburg_ (_in 1915 a gigantic statue of wood was erected in berlin to hindenburg_) * * * * * the problem implied in the second phase of the great russian offensive of 1916 had been solved completely in favour of our allies. the enemy had abandoned his entire front south of the marshes, having lost in ten weeks' fighting (may, june, july) in prisoners alone well over 300,000 men. the total casualties suffered by him in that campaign almost equalled the original strength of his armies between the pripet marshes and the carpathian mountains. _the times history of the war._ [illustration] "_seems to be neutral: sink him!_" * * * * * the freedom of the sea means to germany that the german navy is to behave at sea as the german army behaves on land. it means that neither enemy civilians nor neutrals may possess rights against militant germany; that those who do not resist will be drowned, and those who do will be shot. already 244 neutral merchantmen have been sunk in defiance of law and humanity, and the number daily grows. mankind, with the experience of two years of war behind it, has made up its mind about german culture. it is not, i think, without material for forming a judgment about german freedom. a. j. balfour, _first lord of the admiralty. july, 1916._ [illustration] _now also the axe is laid unto the root of the tree_ * * * * * as the second year of the war drew to its close important gains were made by the allied armies on all fronts. on the somme the british occupied mameton wood, trones wood, and the villages of ovillers-la-boiselle, longueval, podiã¨res. the french advanced on a front of 10-1/2 miles and captured the german positions from estrã©es to vermando-villers. on the eastern front, the russians crossed the carpathians in the south and pierced hindenburg's riga line at several points. on the isonzo the italians began a great drive towards gorizia. [illustration] _the spirit of france_ "_france is dying._"--_hindenburg_ * * * * * this year has been so full of a glory so pure that it will forever illumine the human race. it has been a year in which france, the france of joan of arc and valmy, has risen, if possible, to even greater heights. be the war of short or long duration, france accepts it. the country is summoning its genius and changing its methods. each french soldier before the enemy repeats the words of joan of arc, "you can enchain me, but you cannot enchain the fortunes of france." paul deschanel, _president of french chamber of deputies._ [illustration] "_before the fall_" [illustration] _europe_: "_am i not yet sufficiently civilised?_" * * * * * _direct losses of human life during two years of war_ dead wounded dead and invalids wounded austria-h'gry 718,000 1,777,000 2,495,000 533,000 belgium 50,000 110,000 160,000 33,000 bulgaria 25,000 60,000 85,000 18,000 england 205,000 512,000 717,000 154,300 france 885,000 2,115,000 3,000,000 634,000 germany 885,500 2,116,300 3,001,800 634,900 italy 105,000 245,000 350,000 73,500 russia 1,498,000 3,820,000 5,318,000 1,146,000 serbia 110,000 140,000 250,000 42,000 turkey 150,000 350,000 500,000 105,000 -------------------------- -------- total 4,631,500 11,245,300 15,876,800 3,373,700 _from a danish estimate published by the war study society of copenhagen._ [illustration] sketches by seymour part 5. andrew mullins.--an autobiography. chapter i.--introductory. "let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for once." there is certainly no style of writing requiring so much modest assurance as autobiography; a position which, i am confident, neither lord cherbury, nor vidocq, or any other mortal blessed with an equal developement of the organ of self-esteem, can or could deny. home, ("sweet home,")--in his douglas--gives, perhaps, one of the most concise and concentrated specimens extant, of this species of composition. with what an imposing air does his youthful hero blow his own trumpet in those well-known lines, commencing, "my name is norval." although a mere cock-boat in comparison with these first-rates, i think i may safely follow in their wake. should the critics, however, condescend to carp at me for likening myself to a cock-boat, i have no objection, if by a twist of their ingenuity, they can prove me to be a little funny! economy was one of the most prominent characteristics of the family from which i sprang. now, some authors would weary their indulgent readers with a flatulent chapter upon the moral beauty of this virtue; but as my first wish is to win favor by my candor, i must honestly confess, that necessity was the parent of this lean attenuated offspring!--for, alas! my 'angel mother,' (as anna maria phrases it,) was a woman of ten thousand, for she dwelt in one of the most populous districts of london! my sire, was of the most noble order of st. crispin; and though he had many faults, was continually mending--being the most eminent cobbler in the neighbourhood. even in the outset of their connubial partnership, they started under the most favorable auspices--for, whereas other couples marry for love or money, they got married for 'nothing' taking advantage of the annual gratuitous splicings performed at shoreditch church on one sunshiny easter monday. in less than three years my amiable mother presented her lord and master with as many interesting pledges of their affection--i was the cobbler's last--and 'though last, not least, in their dear love.' chapter ii.--our lodging. our precarious means were too small to permit us to rent a house, we therefore rented one large room, which served us for-"parlor and kitchen and all!" in the uppermost story of a house, containing about a dozen families. this 'airy' apartment was situated in a narrow alley of great thoroughfare, in the heart of the great metropolis. the lower part of this domicile was occupied by one james, who did 'porter's work,' while his wife superintended the trade of a miscellaneous store, called a green-grocer's; although the stock comprised, besides a respectable skew of cabbages, carrots, lettuces, and other things in season, a barrel of small beer, a side of bacon, a few red herrings, a black looking can of 'new milk,' and those less perishable articles, warren's blacking, and flanders' bricks; while the window was graced with a few samples of common confectionary, celebrated under the sweet names of lollypops, buonaparte's ribs, and bulls'-eyes. in one pane, by permission, was placed the sign board of my honored parent, informing the reading public, that 'repairs were neatly executed!' in my mind's eye how distinctly do i behold that humble shop in all the greenness and beauty of its saturday morning's display. nor can i ever forget the kind dumpy motherly mrs. james, who so often patted my curly head, and presented me with a welcome slice of bread and butter and a drink of milk, invariably repeating in her homely phrase, "a child and a chicken is al'ays a pickin'"--and declaring her belief, that the 'brat' got scarcely enough to "keep life and soul together"--the real truth of which my craving stomach inwardly testified. talk of the charities of the wealthy, they are as 'airy nothings' in the scale, compared with the unostentatious sympathy of the poor! the former only give a portion of their excess, while the latter willingly divide their humble crust with a fellow sufferer. the agreeable routine of breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper, was unknown in our frugal establishment; if we obtained one good meal a day, under any name, we were truly thankful. to give some idea of our straitened circumstances, i must relate one solitary instance of display on the maternal side. it was on a saturday night, the air and our appetites were equally keen, when my sire, having unexpectedly touched a small sum, brought home a couple of pound of real epping. a scream of delight welcomed the savory morsel. a fire was kindled, and the meat was presently hissing in the borrowed frying-pan of our landlady. i was already in bed, when the unusual sound and savor awoke me. i rolled out in a twinkling, and squatting on the floor, watched the culinary operations with greedy eyes. "tom," said my mother, addressing her spouse, "set open the door and vinder, and let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for once." chapter. iii.--on temperance. "i wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but i've a blessed mind to turn her out!" armed with the authority and example of loyalty, for even that renowned monarch--old king cole--was diurnally want to call for "his pipe and his glass" and induced by the poetical strains of many a bard, from the classic anacreon to those of more modern times, who have celebrated the virtue of "wine, mighty wine!" it is not to be marvelled at, that men's minds have fallen victims to the fascinations of the juice of the purple grape, or yielded to the alluring temptations of the 'evil spirit.' it is a lamentable truth, that notwithstanding the laudable and wholesome exertions and admonitions of the temperance and tee-total societies, that the people of the united kingdom are grievously addicted to an excessive imbibation of spirituous liquors, cordials, and compounds. although six-bottle men are now regarded as monstrosities, and drinking parties are nearly exploded, tippling and dram-drinking among the lower orders are perhaps more indulged in than ever. the gilded and gorgeous temples--devoted to the worship of the reeling-goddess geneva--blaze forth in every quarter of the vast metropolis. is it matter of wonder, then, that while men of superior intellect and education are still weak enough to seek excitement in vinous potations, that the vulgar, poor, and destitute, should endeavour to drown their sorrows by swallowing the liquid fires displayed under various names, by the wily priests of silenus! that such a deduction is illogical we are well aware, but great examples are plausible excuses to little minds. both my parents were naturally inclined to sobriety; but, unfortunately, and as it too frequently happens, in low and crowded neighbourhoods, drunkenness is as contagious as the small-pox, or any other destructive malady. now, it chanced that in the first-floor of the house in which we dwelt, there also resided one stubbs and his wife. they had neither chick nor child. stubbs was a tailor by trade, and being a first-rate workman, earned weekly a considerable sum; but, like too many of his fraternity, he was seldom sober from saturday night until wednesday morning. his loving spouse 'rowed in the same boat'--and the 'little green-bottle' was dispatched several times during the days of their saturnalia, to be replenished at the never-failing fountain of the 'shepherd and flock.' unhappily, in one of her maudlin fits, mrs. stubbs took a particular fancy to my mother; and one day, in the absence of the 'ninth,' beckoned my unsuspecting parent into her sittingroom,--and after gratuitously imparting to her the hum-drum history of her domestic squabbles, invited her to take a 'drop o' summat'--to keep up her i sperrits.' alas! this was the first step--and she went on, and on, and on, until that which at first she loathed became no longer disagreeable, and by degrees grew into a craving that was irresistible;--and, at last, she regularly hob-and-nobb'd' with the disconsolate rib of stubbs, and shared alike in all her troubles and her liquor. fain would i draw a veil over this frailty of my unfortunate parent; but, being conscious that veracity is the very soul and essence of history, i feel myself imperatively called upon neither to disguise nor to cancel the truth. my father remonstrated in vain-the passion had already taken too deep a hold; and one day he was suddenly summoned from his work with the startling information, that 'mother mullins'--(so the kind neighbour phrased it) was sitting on the step of a public house, in the suburbs, completely 'tosticated.' he rushed out, and found the tale too true. a bricklayer in the neighbourhood proposed the loan of his barrow, for the poor senseless creature could not walk a step. placing her in the one-wheel-carriage, he made the best of his way home, amid the jeers of the multitude. moorfields was then only partially covered with houses; and as he passed a deep hollow, on the side of which was placed a notice, intimating that "rubbish may be shot here!" his eyes caught the words, and in the bitterness of his heart he exclaimed-"i wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but i've a blessed mind to turn her out!" chapter iv.--a situation. "i say, jim, what birds are we most like now?" "why swallows, to be sure," in the vicinity of our alley were numerous horse-rides, and my chief delight was being entrusted with a horse, and galloping up and down the straw-littered avenue.--i was about twelve years of age, and what was termed a sharp lad, and i soon became a great favourite with the ostlers, who admired the aptness with which i acquired the language of the stables. there were many stock-brokers who put up at the ride; among others was mr. timmis--familiarly called long jim timmis. he was a bold, dashing, good-humoured, vulgar man, who was quite at home with the ostlers, generally conversing with them in their favourite lingo. i had frequent opportunities of shewing him civilities, handing him his whip, and holding his stirrup, etc. one day he came to the ride in a most amiable and condescending humour, and for the first time deigned to address me--"whose kid are you?" demanded he. "father's, sir," i replied. "do you know your father, then?" "yes, sir." "a wise child this;" and he winked at the ostler, who, of course, laughed incontinently. "i want a-lad," continued he; "what do you say--would you like to serve me?" "if i could get any thing by it." "d-me, if that a'int blunt." "yes, sir; that's what i mean." "mean! mean what?" "if i could get any blunt, sir." hereupon he laughed outright, at what he considered my readiness, although i merely used the cant term for "money," to which i was most accustomed, from my education among the schoolmasters of the ride. "here, take my card," said he; "and tell the old codger, your father, to bring you to my office to-morrow morning, at eleven." "well, blow me," exclaimed my friend the ostler, "if your fortin' arn't made; i shall see you a tip-top sawyer--may i never touch another tanner! vy, i remembers jim timmis hisself vos nothin but a grubby boy--mother timmis the washer-woman's son, here in what-d've-call-'em-court--ven he vent to old jarvis fust. he's a prime feller tho', and no mistake--and thof he's no gentleman born, he pays like one, and vot's the difference?" the next morning, punctual to the hour, i waited at his office, which was in a large building adjoining the stock exchange, as full as a dove-cot, with gentlemen of the same feather. "o!" said he, eyeing my parent, "and you're this chap's father, are you? what are you?" "a boot and shoe-maker, sir; and my andrew is an honest lad." "for the matter o' that, there's little he can prig here;" replied my elegant and intended master. "but his tongs--eh--old fellow--can't you rig him out a little?" my father pleaded poverty; and at last he bargained to advance a guinea, and deduct it out of my weekly-wages of two and sixpence, and no board. my father was glad to make any terms, and the affair was consequently soon arranged. i was quickly fitted out, and the next morning attended his orders. i had, however, little else to do than wait in his office, and run to the stock exchange, to summon him when a customer dropped in. i had much leisure, which i trust was not wholly thrown away, for i practised writing on the back of the stock-receipts, of which a quantity hung up in the office, and read all the books i could lay my hands on; although, i must confess, the chief portion of my knowledge of the world has been derived from observation. "the proper study of mankind is man." although quick in temper, and rude in speech and manners, timmis was kind; and, if he had a failing, it was the ambition of being a patron; and he was certainly not one of those who do a good deed, and "blush to find it fame." he not only employed my father to make his boots, but recommended him to all his friends as a "good-fit," and procured the old man some excellent customers. among his acquaintance, for he had few friends, was tom wallis, a fat, facetious man, about forty, with whom he was always lunching and cracking his jokes. one day, when the stocks were "shut" and business was slack, they started together on a sporting excursion towards the romantic region of hornsey-wood, on which occasion i had the honour of carrying a well-filled basket of provisions, and the inward satisfaction of making a good dinner from the remnants. they killed nothing but time, yet they were exceedingly merry, especially during the discussion of the provisions. their laughter, indeed, was enough to scare all the birds in the neighbourhood. "jim, if you wanted to correct those sheep yonder," said tom, "what sort of tool would you use?" "an ewe-twig, of course," replied my master. "no; that's devilish good," said wallis; "but you ain't hit it yet." "for a crown you don't do a better?" "done!" "well, what is it?" "why, a ram-rod to be sure--as we're sportsmen." my master agreed that it was more appropriate, and the good-natured tom wallis flung the crown he had won to me. "here's another," continued he, as mr. timmis was just raising a bottle of pale sherry to his lips--"i say, jim, what birds are we most like now?" "why swallows, to be sure," quickly replied my patron; who was really, on most occasions, a match for his croney in the sublime art of punning, and making conundrums, a favourite pastime with the wits of the stock exchange. chapter v.--the stalking horse. "retributive justice" on the same landing where timmis (as he termed it) 'held out,' were five or six closets nick-named offices, and three other boys. one was the nephew of the before-mentioned wallis, and a very imp of mischief; another, only a boy, with nothing remarkable but his stupidity; while the fourth was a scrubby, stunted, fellow, about sixteen or seventeen years of age, with a long pale face, deeply pitted with the small-pox, and an irregular crop of light hair, most unscientifically cut into tufts. he, by reason of his seniority and his gravity, soon became the oracle of the party. we usually found him seated on the stairs of the first floor, lost in the perusal of some ragged book of the marvellous school--scraps of which he used to read aloud to us, with more unction than propriety, indulging rather too much in the note of admiration style; for which he soon obtained the name of old emphatic!--but i must confess we did obtain a great deal of information from his select reading, and were tolerably good listeners too, notwithstanding his peculiar delivery, for somehow he appeared to have a permanent cold in his head, which sometimes threw a tone of irresistible ridicule into his most pathetic bits. he bore the scriptural name of matthew and was, as he informed us, a 'horphan'--adding, with a particular pathos, 'without father or mother!' his melancholy was, i think, rather attributable to bile than destitution, which he superinduced by feeding almost entirely on 'second-hand pastry,' purchased from the little jew-boys, who hawk about their 'tempting' trash in the vicinity of the bank. matthew, like other youths of a poetical temperament, from petrarch down to lord byron, had a 'passion.' i accidentally discovered the object of his platonic flame in the person of the little grubby-girl--the servant of the house-keeper--for, as the proverb truly says, "love and a cough cannot be hid." the tender passion first evinced itself in his delicate attentions;--nor was the quick-eyed maid slow to discover her conquest. her penetration, however, was greater than her sympathy. with a tact that would not have disgraced a politician--in a better cause, she adroitly turned the swelling current of his love to her own purposes. as the onward flowing stream is made to turn the wheel, while the miller sings at the window, so did she avail herself of his strength to do her work, while she gaily hummed a time, and sadly 'hummed' poor matthew. there being nearly thirty offices in the building, there were of course in winter as many fires, and as many coal-scuttles required. when the eyes of the devoted matthew gazed on the object of his heart's desire toiling up the well-stair, he felt he knew not what; and, with a heart palpitating with the apprehension that his proffered service might be rejected (poor deluded mortal!), he begged he might assist her. with a glance that he thought sufficient to ignite the insensible carbon, she accepted his offer. happy matthew!--he grasped the handles her warm red-hands had touched!--cold-blooded, unimaginative beings may deride his enthusiasm; but after all, the sentiment he experienced was similar to, and quite as pure, as that of tom jones, when he fondled sophia western's little muff. but, alas!-"the course of true love never did run smooth." two months after this event, 'his mary' married the baker's man!- * * * * * * * * * * wallis's nephew had several times invited me to pay him a visit at his uncle's house, at crouchend; and so once, during the absence of that gentleman who was ruralizing at tonbridge, i trudged down to his villa. nothing would suit master john, but that he must 'have out' his uncle's gun; and we certainly shot at, and frightened, many sparrows. he was just pointing at a fresh quarry, when the loud crow of a cock arrested his arm. "that's doddington's game 'un, i know," said master john. "what d'ye think--if he did'nt 'pitch into' our 'dunghill' the other day, and laid him dead at a blow. i owe him one!--come along." i followed in his footsteps, and soon beheld chanticleer crowing with all the ostentation of a victor at the hens he had so ruthlessly widowed. a clothes-horse, with a ragged blanket, screened us from his view; and master'john, putting the muzzle of his gun through a hole in this novel ambuscade, discharged its contents point blank into the proclaimer of the morn--and laid him low. i trembled; for i felt that we had committed a 'foul murder.' master johnny, however, derided my fears--called it retributive justice--and ignominiously consigned the remains of a game-cock to a dunghill! the affair appeared so like a cowardly assassination, in which i was (though unwillingly--) 'particeps criminis'--that i walked away without partaking of the gooseberry-pie, which he had provided for our supper. chapter vi.--a commission. "och! thin, paddy, what's the bothuration; if you carry me, don't i carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual!" i was early at my post on the following morning, being particularly anxious to meet with mr. wallis's scapegrace nephew, and ascertain whether anybody had found the dead body of the game-cock, and whether an inquest had been held; for i knew enough of the world to draw my own conclusions as to the result. he, although the principal, being a relative, would get off with a lecture, while i should probably be kicked out of my place. in a fever of expectation, i hung over the banisters of the geometrical staircase, watching for his arrival. while i was thus occupied, my nerves "screwed up,"--almost to cracking, mr. wallis's office-door was thrown open, and i beheld that very gentleman's round, pleasant physiognomy, embrowned by his travels, staring me full in the face. i really lost my equilibrium at the apparition. "oh!--it's you, is it," cried he. "where's my rascal?" "he's not come yet, sir," i replied. "that fellow's never at hand when i want him--i'll cashier him by ___." he slammed to his own door, and--opened it again immediately. "timmis come?" demanded he. "no, sir; i don't think he'll be here for an hour." "true--i'm early in the field; but what brings you here so soon?--some mischief, i suppose." "i'm always early, sir, for i live hard by." "ha!--well--i wish--." "can i do anything for you, sir?" i enquired. "why, that's a good thought," said he, and his countenance assumed its usually bland expression. "let me see--i want to send my carpet-bag, and a message, to my housekeeper." "i can do it, sir, and be back again in no time," cried i, elated at having an opportunity of obliging the man whom i had really some cause to fear, in the critical situation in which his nephew's thoughtlessness had placed me. in my eagerness, however, and notwithstanding the political acuteness of my manoeuvre, i got myself into an awful dilemma. having received the bag, and his message, i walked off, but had scarcely descended a dozen stairs when he recalled me. "where the devil are you going?" cried he. "to your house, sir," i innocently replied. "what, do you know it, then?" demanded he in surprise. here was a position. it was a miracle that i did not roll over the carpet-bag and break my neck, in the confusion of ideas engendered by this simple query. i could not lie, and evasion was not my forte. a man or boy in the wrong can never express himself with propriety; an opinion in which quinctilian also appears to coincide, when he asserts-"orator perfectus nisi vir bonus esse non potest." i therefore summoned up sufficient breath and courage to answer him in the affirmative. "and when, pray, were you there?" said he. "yesterday, sir, your nephew asked me to come and see him." "the impudent little blackguard?" cried he. "i hope you ain't angry, sir?" "angry with you?--no, my lad; you're an active little chap, and i wish that imp of mine would take a pattern by you. trot along, and mind you have 'a lift' both ways." off i went, as light as a balloon when the ropes are cut. i executed my commission with dispatch, and completely won the favour of mr. wallis, by returning the money which he had given me for coach-hire. "how's this?--you didn't tramp, did you?" said he. "no, sir, i rode both ways," i replied; "but i knew the coachmen, and they gave me a cast for nothing." "umph!--well, that's quite proper--quite proper," said he, considering a moment. "honesty's the best policy." "father always told me so, sir." "your father's right;--there's half-a-crown for you." i was delighted-"quantum cedat virtutibus aurum;" and i felt the truth of this line of dr. johnson's, although i was then ignorant of it. i met his nephew on the landing, but my fears had vanished. we talked, however, of the departed bird, and he wished me, in the event of discovery, to declare that i had loaded and carried the gun, and that he would bear the rest of the blame. this, however, strongly reminded me of the two irish smugglers:--one had a wooden leg, and carried the cask; while his comrade, who had the use of both his pins, bore him upon his shoulders, and, complaining of the weight, the other replied:--"och! thin, paddy, what's the bothuration; if you carry me, don't i carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual!" and i at once declined any such hibernian partnership in the affair, quite resolved that he should bear the whole onus upon his own shoulders. chapter, vii.--the cricket match "out! so don't fatigue yourself, i beg, sir." i soon discovered that my conduct had been reported in the most favourable colours to mr. timmis, and the consequence was that he began to take more notice of me. "andrew, what sort of a fist can you write?" demanded he. i shewed him some caligraphic specimens. "d___ me, if your y's and your g's hav'nt tails like skippingropes. we must have a little topping and tailing here, and i think you'll do. here, make out this account, and enter it in the book." he left me to do his bidding; and when he returned from the stock-exchange, inspected the performance, which i had executed with perspiring ardour. i watched his countenance. "that'll do--you're a brick! i'll make a man of you--d___ me." from this day forward i had the honour of keeping his books, and making out the accounts. i was already a person of importance, and certainly some steps above the boys on the landing. i did not, however, obtain any advance in my weekly wages; but on "good-days" got a douceur, varying from half a crown to half a sovereign! and looked upon myself as a made man. most of the receipts went to my father; whatever he returned to me i spent at a neighbouring book-stall, and in the course of twelve months i possessed a library of most amusing and instructive literature,--heaven knows! of a most miscellaneous character, for i had no one to guide me in the selection. among mr. timmis's numerous clients, was one mr. cornelius crobble, a man of most extraordinary dimensions; he was also a "chum" of, and frequently made one of a party with, his friend mr. wallis, and other croneys, to white-bait dinners at blackwall, and other intellectual banquets. in fact, he seldom made his appearance at the office, but the visit ended in an engagement to dine at some "crack-house" or other. the cost of the "feed," as mr. timmis termed it, was generally decided by a toss of "best two and three;" and somehow it invariably happened that mr. crobble lost; but he was so good-humoured, that really it was a pleasure, as mr. wallis said, to "grub" at his expense. they nick-named him maximo rotundo--and he well deserved the title. "where's timmis?" said he, one day after he had taken a seat, and puffed and blowed for the space of five minutes--"cuss them stairs; they'll be the death o' me." i ran to summon my master. "how are you, old fellow?" demanded mr. timmis; "tip us your fin." "queer!" replied mr. crobble,--tapping his breast gently with his fat fist, and puffing out his cheeks--to indicate that his lungs were disordered. "what, bellows to mend?" cried my accomplished patron-d___ me, never say die!" "just come from doctor sprawles: says i must take exercise; no malt liquor--nothing at breakfast--no lunch--no supper." "why, you'll be a skeleton--a transfer from the consolidated to the reduced in no time," exclaimed mr. timmis; and his friend joined in the laugh. "i was a-thinking, timmis--don't you belong to a cricketclub?" "to be sure." --"of joining you." "that's the ticket," cried timmis--"consider yourself elected; i can carry any thing there. i'm quite the cock of the walk, and no mistake. next thursday's a field-day--i'll introduce you. lord! you'll soon be right as a trivet." mr wallis was summoned, and the affair was soon arranged; and i had the gratification of being present at mr. crobble's inauguration. it was a broiling day, and there was a full field; but he conducted himself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club. he batted exceedingly well, "considering," as mr. wallis remarked; but as for the "runs," he was completely at fault. he only attempted it once; but before he had advanced a yard or two, the ball was caught; and the agile player, striking the wicket with ease, exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators--"out! so don't fatigue yourself, i beg, sir." and so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting, in which the rotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily. chapter viii.--the hunter. "hunting may be sport, says i, but i'm blest if its pleasure." two days after the cricket-match, mr. crobble paid a visit to my master. "well, old fellow, d___ me me, if you ain't a trump--how's your wind?" --kindly enquired mr. timmis. "vastly better, thank'ye; how's wallis and the other fellows?--prime sport that cricketing." "yes; but, i say, you'll never have 'a run' of luck, if you stick to the wicket so." "true; but i made a hit or two, you must allow," replied mr. crobble; "though i'm afraid i'm a sorry member." "a member, indeed!--no, no; you're the body, and we're the--members," replied mr. timmis, laughing; "but, halloo! what's that patch on your forehead--bin a fighting?" "no; but i've been a hunting," said mr. crobble, "and this here's the fruits--you know my gray?" "the nag you swopp'd the bay roadster for with tom brown?" "him," answered crobble. "well, i took him to hertfordshire wednesday last--" "he took you, you mean." "well, what's the odds?" "the odds, why, in your favour, to be sure, as i dare say the horse can witness." "well, howsomever, there was a good field--and off we went. the level country was all prime; but he took a hedge, and nearly julked all the life out o' me. i lost my stirrup, and should have lost my seat, had'nt i clutched his mane--" "and kept your seat by main force?" "very good." "well, away we went, like johnny gilpin. hunting may be sport, says i, but i'm blest if its pleasure. this infernal horse was always fond of shying, and now he's going to shy me off; and, ecod! no sooner said than done. over his head i go, like a rocket." "like a foot-ball, you mean," interrupted mr. timmis. "and, as luck would have it, tumbles into a ditch, plump with my head agin the bank." "by jingo! such a 'run' upon the bank was enough to break it," cried my master, whose propensity to crack a joke overcame all feeling of sympathy for his friend. "it broke my head though; and warn't i in a precious mess--that's all--up to my neck, and no mistake--and black as a chimney-sweep--such mud!" "and only think of a man of your property investing his substance in mud! that is a good 'un!--andrew," said he, "tell wally to come here." i summoned his crony, and sat myself down to the books, to enjoy the sportive sallies of the two friends, who roasted the 'fat buck,' their loving companion, most unmercifully. "you sly old badger," cried wallis, "why, you must have picked out the ditch." "no, but they picked out me, and a precious figure i cut--i can tell you --i was dripping from top to toe." "very like dripping, indeed!" exclaimed mr. timmis, eyeing his fat friend, and bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter. the meeting ended, as usual, with a bet for a dinner at the "plough" for themselves and their friends, which mr. crobble lost--as usual. chapter ix.--a row to blackwall. 'to be sold, warranted sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a lady; likewise a bay-cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady' steam-boats did not run to greenwich and blackwall at this period; and those who resorted to the white-bait establishments at those places, either availed themselves of a coach or a boat. being now transformed, by a little personal merit, and a great favour, from a full-grown errand-boy to a small clerk, mr. timmis, at the suggestion of my good friend mr. wallis, offered me, as a treat, a row in the boat they had engaged for the occasion; which, as a matter of course, i did not refuse: making myself as spruce as my limited wardrobe would permit, i trotted at their heels to the foot of london-bridge, the point of embarkation. the party, including the boatman, consisted of eight souls; the tide was in our favour, and away we went, as merry a company as ever floated on the bosom of father thames. mr. crobble was the chief mark for all their sallies, and indeed he really appeared, from his size, to have been intended by nature for a "butt," as mr. wallis wickedly remarked. "you told, me, crobble, of your hunting exploit in hertfordshire," said mr. wallis; "i'll tell you something as bangs that hollow; i'm sure i thought i should have split with laughter when i heard of it. you know the old frump, my aunt betty, timmis?" "to be sure--she with the ten thousand in the threes," replied mr. timmis; "a worthy creature; and i'm sure you admire her principal." "don't i," cried wallis; and he winked significantly at his friend. "well, what d'ye think; she, and miss scragg, her toady, were in the country t'other day, and must needs amuse themselves in an airing upon a couple of prads. "well; they were cantering along--doing the handsome--and had just come to the border of a pond, when a donkey pops his innocent nose over a fence in their rear, and began to heehaw' in a most melodious strain. the nags pricked up their ears in a twinkling, and made no more ado but bolted. poor aunty tugged! but all in vain; her bay-cob ran into the water; and she lost both her presence of mind and her seat, and plumped swash into the pond--her riding habit spreading out into a beautiful circle--while she lay squalling and bawling out in the centre, like a little piece of beef in the middle of a large batter-pudding! miss scragg, meanwhile, stuck to her graymare, and went bumping along to the admiration of all beholders, and was soon out of sight: luckily a joskin, who witnessed my dear aunt's immersion, ran to her assistance, and, with the help of his pitch-fork, safely landed her; for unfortunately the pond was not above three or four feet deep! and so she missed the chance of being an angel!" "and you the transfer of her threes!--what a pity!" said the sympathizing mr. timmis. "when i heard of the accident, of course, as in duty bound, i wrote an anxious letter of affectionate enquiry and condolence. at the same period, seeing an advertisement in the times--'to be sold, warranted sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a lady; likewise a bay-cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady'--i was so tickled with the co-incidence, that i cut it out, and sent it to her in an envelope." "prime! by jove!"--shouted mr. crobble--"but, i say, wallis--you should have sent her a 'duck' too, as a symbolical memorial of her accident!" chapter x.--the pic-nic. --had just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a cow. "people should never undertake to do a thing they don't perfectly understand," remarked mr. crobble, "they're sure to make fools o' themselves in the end. there's tom davis, (you know tom davis?) he's always putting his notions into people's heads, and turning the laugh against 'em. if there's a ditch in the way, he's sure to dare some of his companions to leap it, before he overs it himself; if he finds it safe, away he springs like a greyhound." "exactly him, i know him," replied mr. timmis; "that's what he calls learning to shave upon other people's chins!" "excellent!" exclaimed mr. wallis. "he's a very devil," continued mr. crobble; "always proposing some fun or other: pic-nics are his delight; but he always leaves others to bring the grub, and brings nothing but himself. i hate pic-nics, squatting in the grass don't suit me at all; when once down, i find it no easy matter to get up again, i can tell you." hereupon there was a general laugh. "talking of pic-nics," said mr. timmis. "reminds me of one that was held the other day in a meadow, on the banks of the lea. the party, consisting of ladies only, and a little boy, had just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a cow. they were presently on their pins, (cow'd, of course,) and sheered off to a respectful distance, while the cow walked leisurely over the table-cloth, smelling the materials of the feast, and popp'd her cloven foot plump into a currant and raspberry pie! and they had a precious deal of trouble to draw her off; for, as tom davis said, there were some veal-patties there, which were, no doubt, made out of one of her calves; and in her maternal solicitude, she completely demolished the plates and dishes, leaving the affrighted party nothing more than the broken victuals." "what a lark!" exclaimed mr. crobble; "i would have given a guinea to have witnessed the fun. that cow was a trojan!" "a star in the milky way," cried mr. wallis. we now approached the 'plough;' and mr. crobble having 'satisfied' the boatman, mr. wallis gave me half-a-crown, and bade me make the best of my way home. i pocketed the money, and resolved to 'go on the highway,' and trudge on foot. "andrew," said my worthy patron, "now don't go and make a beast of yourself, but walk straight home." "andrew," said mr. wallis, imitating his friend's tone of admonition; "if any body asks you to treat 'em, bolt; if any body offers to treat you, retreat!" "andrew," said mr. crobble, who was determined to put in his oar, and row in the same boat as his friends; "andrew,"--"yes, sir;" and i touched my hat with due respect, while his two friends bent forward to catch his words. "andrew," repeated he, for the third time, "avoid evil communication, and get thee gone from blackwall, as fast as your legs can carry you--for, there's villainous bad company just landed here--wicked enough to spoil even the immaculate mr. cornelius crobble!" chapter xi.--the journey home. "starboard, tom, starboard!"--"aye, aye-starboard it is!" i found myself quite in a strange land upon parting with my master and his friends. it was war-time, and the place was literally swarming with jack-tars. taking to the road, for the footway was quite crowded, i soon reached poplar. here a large mob impeded my progress. they appeared all moved with extraordinary merriment. i soon distinguished the objects of their mirth. two sailors, mounted back to back on a cart-horse, were steering for blackwall. a large horse-cloth served them as a substitute for a saddle, and the merry fellow behind held the reins; he was smoking a short pipe, while his mate was making an observation with his spy-glass. "starboard, tom, starboard!" cried the one in front. "aye, aye-starboard it is!" replied his companion, tugging at the rein. "holloo, messmate! where are you bound?" bawled a sailor in the crowd. "to the port o' blackwall," replied the steersman. "but we're going quite in the wind's eye, and i'm afeared we shan't make it to-night." "a queer craft." "werry," replied tom. "don't answer the helm at all." "any grog on board?" demanded the sailor. "not enough to wet the boatswain's whistle; for, da'e see, mate, there's no room for stowage." "shiver my timbers!--no grog!" exclaimed the other; "why--you'll founder. if you don't splice the main-brace, you'll not make a knot an hour. heave to--and let's drink success to the voyage." "with all my heart, mate, for i'm precious krank with tacking. larboard, tom--larboard." "aye, aye--larboard it is." "now, run her right into that 'ere spirit-shop to leeward, and let's have a bowl." tom tugged away, and soon "brought up" at the door of a wine-vaults. "let go the anchor," exclaimed his messmate--"that's it--coil up." "here, mate--here's a picter of his royal majesty"--giving the sailor alongside a new guinea--"and now tell the steward to mix us a jorum as stiff as a nor'wester, and, let's all drink the king's health--god bless him." "hooray!" shouted the delighted mob. their quondam friend soon did his bidding, bringing out a huge china-bowl filled with grog, which was handed round to every soul within reach, and presently dispatched;--two others followed, before they "weighed anchor and proceeded on their voyage," cheered by the ragged multitude, among whom they lavishly scattered their change; and a most riotous and ridiculous scramble it produced. i was much pleased with the novelty of the scene, and escaped from the crowd as quickly as i conveniently could, for i was rather apprehensive of an attempt upon my pockets. what strange beings are these sailors! they have no care for the morrow, but spend lavishly the hard-earned wages of their adventurous life. to one like myself, who early knew the value of money, this thoughtless extravagance certainly appeared unaccountable, and nearly allied to madness; but, when i reflected that they are sometimes imprisoned in a ship for years, without touching land, and frequently in peril of losing their lives--that they have scarcely time to scatter their wages and prize-money in the short intervals which chance offers them of mixing with their fellow-men, my wonder changed to pity. "a man in a ship," says dr. johnson, "is worse than a man in a jail; for the latter has more room, better food, and commonly better company, and is in safety." chapter xii.--monsieur dubois. "i sha'nt fight with fistesses, it's wulgar!--but if he's a mind to anything like a gemman, here's my card!" the love-lorn matthew had departed, no doubt unable to bear the sight of that staircase whose boards no longer resounded with the slip-slap of the slippers of that hypocritical beauty, "his mary." with him, the romance of the landing-place, and the squad, had evaporated; and i had no sympathies, no pursuits, in common with the remaining "boys"--my newly-acquired post, too, nearly occupied the whole of my time, while my desire of study increased with the acquisition of books, in which all my pocket-money was expended. one day, my good friend, mr. wallis, entered the office, followed by a short, sharp-visaged man, with a sallow complexion; he was dressed in a shabby frock, buttoned up to the throat--a rusty black silk neckerchief supplying the place of shirt and collar. he stood just within the threshold of the door, holding his napless hat in his hand. "well, wally, my buck," cried my master, extending his hand. mr. wallis advanced close to his elbow, and spoke in a whisper; but i observed, by the direction of his eyes, that the subject of his communication was the stranger. "ha!" said mr. timmis, "it's all very well, walley--but i hate all forriners;--why don't he go back to frogland, and not come here, palming himself upon us. it's no go--not a scuddick. they're all a parcel o' humbugs--and no mistake!" as he uttered this gracious opinion sufficiently loud to strike upon the tympanum of the poor fellow at the door, i could perceive his dark eyes glisten, and the blood tinge his woe-begone cheeks; his lips trembled with emotion: there was an evident struggle between offended gentility, and urgent necessity. pride, however, gained the mastery; and advancing the right foot, he raised his hat, and with peculiar grace bowing to the two friends--"pardon, monsieur vallis," said he, in tremulous accents, "i am 'de trop;' permit, me to visdraw"--and instantly left the office. mr. timmis, startled by his sudden exit, looked at mr. wallis for an explanation. "by ___!" exclaimed mr. wallis seriously-"you've hurt that poor fellow's feelings. i would sooner have given a guinea than he should have heard you. dubois is a gentleman; and altho' he's completely 'stumped,' and has'nt a place to put his head in, he's tenacious of that respect which is due to every man, whether he happens to be at a premium, or a discount." "go it!" cried mr. timmis, colouring deeply at this merited reproof--"if this ain't a reg'lar sermon! i didn't mean to hurt his feelings, d___ me; i'm a reg'lar john bull, and he should know better than to be popped at my bluntness. d___ me, i wouldn't hurt a worm--you know i wouldn't, wallis." there was a tone of contrition in this rambling apology that satisfied mr. wallis of its truth; and he immediately entered into an explanation on the frenchman's situation. he had known him, he said, for several years as a tutor in the family of one of his clients, by whom he was much respected: a heavy loss had compelled them suddenly to reduce their establishment; dubois had entreated to remain with his pupil--refused to receive any salary--and had even served his old patron in the capacity of a menial, adhering to him in all his misfortunes, and only parted with him, reluctantly, at the door of the debtor's prison! "did he do that?" said my master; and i saw his eyes moisten at the relation. "a french mounseer do that! game--d___ me!"--and lifting the lid of his desk, he drew out a five pound note! "here, wallis, tip him this flimsey! tell him--you know what to say--i'm no speechifier--but you know what i mean." i almost jumped up and hugged my master, i was so excited. the next day monsieur dubois again made his appearance; and mr. wallis had the pleasure of beholding mr. timmis and his gallic friend on the best terms imaginable. as for me, i had good cause to rejoice; for it was agreed that i should take lessons in the "foreign lingo," by way of giving him "a lift," as mr. timmis expressed it. i remember him with feelings of gratitude; for i owe much more than the knowledge of the language to his kindness and instruction. as for mr. timmis, he could never sufficiently appreciate his worth, although he uniformly treated him with kindness. "talk of refinement," said he, one day, when discussing dubois' merits with mr. wallis; "i saw a bit to-day as bangs everything. a cadger sweeping a crossing fell out with a dustman. wasn't there some spicy jaw betwixt 'em. well, nothing would suit, but the dustman must have a go, and pitch into the cadger. "d___ me, what does the cove do, but he outs with a bit of dirty pasteboard, and he says, says he, "i sha'nt fight with fistesses, it's wulgar!--but if he's a mind to anything like a gemman, here's my card!" wasn't there a roar! i lugg'd out a bob, and flung it at the vagabond for his wit." chapter xiii.--my talent called into active service. "ar'n't you glad you ain't a black-a-moor?" "i should think so," replied his sooty brother, "they're sich ugly warmints." having to deliver a letter, containing an account and a stock receipt, to one of mr. timmis's clients, residing at the west end of the town; in crossing through one of the fashionable squares, i observed a flat-faced negro servant in livery, standing at the door of one of the houses. two chimney sweepers who happened to be passing, showed their white teeth in a contemptuous grin at the african. "bob," i overheard one remark, "ar'n't you glad you ain't a black-a-moor?" "i should think so," replied his sooty brother, "they're sich ugly warmints. master's daughter, wots come from boarding school! says the sight of 'ems' enough to frighten one into conwulsions!" alas! for the prejudice of the world! how much this ignorant remark reminded me of my patron's unfounded hatred of all "forriners." it was precisely the same sentiment, differently expressed, that actuated the thoughts and opinions of both. i must, however, do mr. timmis the justice to say, that he made ample amends to monsieur dubois for the affront he had so thoughtlessly put upon the worthy frenchman; and did all in his power to obtain him pupils. the consequent change in his dress and manner, his amiable conduct, and gentlemanly deportment, at last completely won upon the esteem of the boisterous broker, who swore, (for that was generally his elegant manner of expressing his sincerity) that dubois was a 'downright good'un;' and were it not for his foreign accent, he should have taken him for an englishman born--really believing, that there was no virtue in the world but of english growth. i had now been above twelve-months in his office, and although i had received but a moderate compensation for my services, yet the vast improvement i had made (thanks to the instruction of monsieur dubois,) was more valuable than gold. my father also, though but scantily furnished with book-knowledge, had, nevertheless, the good sense to appreciate and encourage my progress; he was well aware, from observation, that 'knowledge is power,' and would frequently quote the old saw, "when house, and land, and money's spent; then larning is most excellent"-and spared all the money he could scrape together to purchase books for me. one day mr. crobble came into the office with an open letter in his hand. "here,"--cried he, "i've received a remittance at last from that, german fellow--two good bills on the first house in the city--but i can't make top nor tail of his rigmarole. do you know any chap among your acquaintance who can read german?" "not i," replied mr. timmis. "will you allow me, mr. crobble?" said i, stepping forward. "this letter is written in french, not german, sir," i observed. "what's the difference to me, master andrew; it might as well be in wild irish, for the matter o' that." "andrew can read the lingo," said my master. "the devil he can!" exclaimed mr. crobble; "i dare say i shall be able to make it out," said i; "and if not, monsieur dubois will be here; to-morrow morning, and you can have it by twelve o'clock, sir." "ain't that the ticket?" exclaimed mr. timmis, delighted at the surprise of his friend; "you don't know how vastly clever we are, old fellow." mr. crobble, much gratified at this information, placed the letter in my hands; and, leaving me to take a lunch at garraway's with mr. timmis, i eagerly sat about my task--and luckily it was not only plainly written, but the subject-matter by no means difficult, being rather complimentary than technical. by the time they returned, i had not only translated, but made a fair copy of it, in my best hand. "come, that is clever," said mr. crobble; "let me see, now, what shall i give you?" "nothing, sir," i promptly replied; "i am mr. timmis's clerk--and all that i know i owe to his kindness." i saw, with pleasure, that this compliment was not lost upon my master. mr. crobble was really a gentleman in feeling, and therefore did not persist in offering me any remuneration; but as he left the office, he said, "i thank you, mr. andrew--i shall not forget your services;" and departed evidently much pleased with my performance. chapter xiv.--a dilemma. "ee cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates," "well, can we go forward, then?"--"noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;" "ee cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates," said a bumpkin on the road-side to a cockney-party in a one-horse chaise. "well, can we go forward, then?" demanded the anxious and wearied traveller. "noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;" replied the joskin, with a grin. this was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting; and i smiled when i heard the story told, little suspecting that fortune would one day throw me into a similar dilemina--so blindly do we mortals hug ourselves in the supposed security of our tact and foresight. "how d'ye do, mr. andrew," said mr. crobble, when he had seated himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the fatiguing operation of mounting the stairs. "where's timmis?--tell him i want a word with him." i quickly summoned my patron, and followed him into the office. "well, old puff and blow!" exclaimed mr. timmis, with his usual familiarity. "what's in the wind? want to sell out? the fives are fallen three per cent. since friday. all the 'change is as busy as the devil in a high wind." "no--no more dabbling, timmis," replied mr. crobble; "i lost a cool hundred last account; i want a word in private with you"--and he glanced towards me; upon which i seized my hat, and took up my position at my old post on the landing. how were my feelings altered since i first loitered there, listening to the marvels of poor matthew! i was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of mr. timmis recalled me. "andrew," said he, "my friend crobble wants a clerk, and has cast his eye upon you. what do you say?" i scarcely knew what to say. on one side stood my master, to whom i really owed so much--on the other his friend, who offered me a promotion, which i felt, on many accounts, was most attractive. "i should have no objection," i replied, "but great pleasure in serving mr. crobble, sir--but--i have received so many favours from you, that i'm afraid i might seem ungrateful." the good-natured mr. wallis happily stepped in at this moment to my relief. "nonsense," replied mr. timmis; "the stock is delivered to the highest bidder; here crobble backs eighteen shillings a week against my half-a-crown-take him." i still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from his expression, that mr. timmis valued the servant much less than the servant valued the master. "only look here, wally," cried he; "here stands andrew, like an ass between two bundles of hay." "rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, i think," replied mr. wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued--" accept mr. crobble's offer, master andrew: you're much too good for timmis--he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy--but you may wait a long time for such an eligible offer." "eighteen shillings a week," said mr. crobble; who, i must confess, without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engage me--, "but i shall want security." that word "security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, and cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbed to! "five hundred pounds," continued mr. crobble; "d'ye think--have you any friends?" "none, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable." i could scarcely speak--like the driver of the one-horse chaise, i could neither advance nor recede. "the father," said mr. timmis, "is only a poor shoe-maker--a good fellow tho'--an excellent fit!" "you mean to say," cried mr. wallis, "it were bootless to seek security of the shoe-maker." a laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, i could not forbear being tickled by mr. wallis's humour, and joining in the merriment. this sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. "come," said mr. wallis, "i'll stand two hundred and fifty--and you, timmis, must go the other." "no; d___ me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps," exclaimed mr. timmis. i burst into tears; i felt, that from my long and faithful services, i deserved a better opinion--although i had no right to expect so great a favour. rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my feelings; and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and i was a fool. "did i think, for a moment, that wally should get the start of him; no--i was an honest chap, and he'd put his fist to double the amount to serve me;" and then bade me "sit to the books," and make all square before i cut my stick: and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in my circumstances. chapter xv.--an old acquaintance. "only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'very wet;'--i can't bear it--i can't--and i won't." how impatiently did i count the minutes 'till the office was closed, for i longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good fortune to my worthy father. the old man wept with joy at the prospect, and assisted me in rearing those beautiful fabrics termed castles in the air. his own trade, by the recommendation of the rough, ill-mannered, but good-natured mr. timmis, had wonderfully increased; and, by making some temporary sacrifices, he was enabled to give me an appearance more suitable to the new position in which i was so unexpectedly placed. in a narrow alley, on the south side of the royal exchange, on the ground-floor, i found the counting-house of mr. crobble. under his directions, i quickly made myself master of the details of the business. alas! it was but the slender fragment of a once flourishing mercantile house, of which time had gradually lopped off the correspondents, whilst his own inertness had not supplied the deficiency by a new connexion; for his father had left him such an ample fortune, that he was almost careless of the pursuit, although he could not make up his mind, as he said, to abandon the "old shop," where his present independence had been accumulated. i consequently found plenty of leisure, uninterrupted by the continual hurry and bustle of a broker's office, to pursue my favourite studies, and went on, not only to the entire satisfaction of mr. crobble, but to my own, and really began to find myself a man of some importance. in the course of business, i one day fell in with an old acquaintance. "a parcel for cornelius crobble, esq.," said a little porter, of that peculiar stamp which is seen hanging about coach-offices--"two and-sixpence." i looked at the direction, and drew out the "petty cash" to defray the demand; when, then, first looking at the man, i thought i recognised his features. "what!" cried i, "isn't your name--" "matthew," answered he quickly. "matthew!--why, don't you know me?" "no, sir," replied he, staring vacantly at me. "indeed!--have i so outgrown all knowledge? don't you recollect andrew mullins?" "good heavins!" exclaimed he, with his well-remembered nasal twang; "are you--" "yes." "well, i declare now you've growed into a gentleman. i should'nt--i really should'nt--" he did not say what he really "should not"--but extended his hand.--"hope you ain't too proud to shake hands with an old friend?--" i shook him heartily by the hand, and made some enquiries touching his history. poor matthew seated himself with all the ease imaginable, and laid his knot beside him, and began, after the manner of his favourite heroes, to "unbosom himself." "you've a father," said he; "but i'm a horphan, without father nor mother--a houtcast!"--and he sunk his head upon his bosom; and i observed that his scrubby crop was already becoming thin and bald. "since i left the place in the 'lane,' i've bin a-going--down--down"--and he nearly touched the floor with his hand. "that gal, mary, was the ruin of me--i shall never forget her.--my hopes is sunk, like the sun in the ocean, never to rise agin!" i was rather amused by this romantic, though incorrect, figure; but i let him proceed: "i've got several places, but lost 'em all. i think there's a spell upon me; and who can struggle against his fate?" i tried to console him, and found, upon a further confession, that he had flown to spirits "now and then," to blunt the sharp tooth of mental misery. here, then, was the chief cause of his want of success, which he blindly attributed to fate--the common failing of all weak minds. for my part, notwithstanding the imperial authority of the great napoleon himself, i have no faith in fate, believing that the effect, whether good or bad, may invariably be traced to some cause in the conduct of the individual, as certainly as the loss of a man, in a game of draughts, is the consequence of a "wrong move" by the player!--and poor matthew's accusation of fate put me in mind of the school-boy, who, during a wet vacation, rushed vindictively at the barometer, and struck it in the face, exclaiming--"only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'very wet;'--i can't bear it--i can't--and i won't." i did all in my power to comfort the little porter, exhorting him to diligence and sobriety. "you were always a kind friend," said he, pathetically; "and perhaps--perhaps you will give me something to drink your health, for old-acquaintance sake." this unexpected turn compelled me to laughter. i gave him sixpence. alas! matthew, i found, was but a piece of coarse gingerbread, tricked out with the dutch metal of false sentiment. chapter xvi.--the loss of a friend. "i say, ma'am, do you happen to have the hair of 'all round my hat i vears a green villow?'" i was startled by the batho-romantic sentiment of matthew, somewhat in the same manner as the young lady at the bookseller's, when she was accosted by a musical dustman, with--"i say, ma'am, do you happen to have the hair of 'all round my hat i vears a green villow?'" but, however ridiculous they may appear, such incongruous characters are by no means caricatures--nay, are "as plentiful as blackberries," especially in the lower grades of society. i was indulging in a reverie of this sort, when monsieur dubois, my kind and gentlemanly tutor, abruptly entered the office. i felt proud in having obtained his friendship--for he was to me a mine of wealth, and appeared master of every subject upon which my curiosity prompted me to inquire, whilst the worthy frenchman was so flattered by my sincere respect, that he took a delight in imparting his knowledge to so willing and diligent a scholar. mr. crobble had promised that i should continue my studies, being much pleased with the proof i had been fortunate enough to give him of my progress, generously offering to defray the charges of tuition; and i found in my new place, even more time than when in the employ of mr. timmis: for, indeed, half-a-clerk would have been sufficient to have conducted the whole business. i was no less surprised at the unusual abruptness of approach, than at the extraordinary excitement apparent in the manner of monsieur dubois; for he always boasted of his coolness and philosophy under all circumstances. "peace, peace!--'mon cher ami'--peace is proclaim"--cried he, raising his hat and his eyes to the dingy ceiling of our office--"grace a dieu!--le tyran napoleon--le charlatan est renverse de son piedestal--oui, mon eleve--i vill see, again once more my dear france!" he grasped my hand in his ecstasy, and tears filled his eyes to overflowing. i had heard rumours of the restoration of the bourbons, but i had not anticipated the loss of my inestimable tutor. i was almost ashamed of my selfishness; but vanquished my feelings so far as to congratulate him on his prospects, with as much cordiality and appearance of truth as i could assume. "i trust, however," said i, "that restored to your country, and your friends, you will find that happiness you so much deserve. go where you will, you will be followed by the regrets of your english friends." "ah! les anglais!--'combien'--how motch 'reconnaissance?'" said he, "i vill have for them! i sall them forget nevare!" mr. crobble interrupted our colloquy. "all right t'other side the channel, mounseer," cried be, elated; "we've licked boney: he's done up; stocks are up; and timmis, (your old master, andrew) is as busy as a bee --only he's making money instead of honey!" he shook hands with monsieur dubois; and congratulated him upon the restoration of louis the eighteenth. i mentioned to him monsieur dubois' intention of proceeding immediately to france. "he's right," cried he; "let every man stick to his king and his country; and i say"--he suddenly checked himself, and beckoning me aside, continued in an under tone--"andrew, you understand this mounseer better than i do; he appears a good fellow in the main: if he should want a lift, to fit him out for the voyage, or any thing of that sort, tell him corny crobble will lend him a hand, for old acquaintance sake; i shan't stick at a matter of forty or fifty pound--you understand--put it to him, as a matter of business; for that'll suit his proud stomach best, perhaps"--then, turning to monsieur, he said, "excuse whispering before company, mounseer dubois. good morning." "bon jour, monsieur," replied dubois, making my obese governor one of his most graceful bows. i was highly gratified at being selected as the medium of this generous offer; which monsieur dubois received without hesitation, as one who intended to repay it; but, at the same time, with the most grateful acknowledgments of mr. crobble's considerate kindness. chapter xvii.--promotion. "i, think there must be something wrong about your rowing," "my rowing!" cried i; "nonsense!--it's because you don't steer right." "i remember, when i was a young man, i once took a fancy to rowing," said mr. crobble one day to me. "i wasn't then quite so round as i am at present. cousin tom and i hired a wherry, but somehow we found we didn't make much way. tom was steering, and i took the sculls, sitting my back to him like a gaby!" "i, think there must be something wrong about your rowing," said tom. "my rowing!" cried i; "nonsense!--it's because you don't steer right. well, at last a waterman came alongside, and grinning (the fellow couldn't help it) good-naturedly, pointed out the cause of our dilemma; at which we both laughed heartily. ever since that time i've been of opinion, that unless people, 'who row in the same boat,' understand each other, they'll never get along--" i smiled at this lengthy prologue, not conceiving to what it could possibly lead. "now, mr. andrew," resumed he, "i mean to be very industrious, and devote a whole day to giving you an insight into the business; after which i expect you'll pull away, while i only steer, which will suit me to a t--, you understand." "exactly, sir," i replied; and, in consequence, he really set about the task; and i soon acquired sufficient knowledge in the business, as not only to row in the same boat with him, but, what was still more agreeable to my patron's indolence, to manage the "craft" without his assistance. six months after the departure of monsieur dubois, he sent a remittance, with interest on the amount, advanced by mr. crobble, with a long epistle to me, stating, that he had entered into partnership with his elder brother, and commenced the business of a banker, under the firm of "dubois freres," at the same time informing me that they were already doing a large stroke of business, and wanted an agent in london, requesting me to inform him if it would be agreeable to mr. crobble for them to draw upon his respectable house. i saw at once the advantages of this correspondence, and so warmly solicited mr. crobble to accede, that he at last consented, provided i undertook the whole management of the affair. the english were now daily flocking to paris, and the money required for their lavish expenditure in the gay capital of france compelled their application to the bankers. messrs. dubois freres had their share of this lucrative business, and, as their agents in london, we necessarily became participators in their large transactions. in three months these operations had increased so enormously, and the profits were so considerable, that mr. crobble not only advanced my salary, but consented to engage the assistance of two junior clerks. i was now a man of some consideration. i was the senior clerk of the establishment, although the youngest of the three. in two years i found myself at the head of six clerks, and had as much business as i could possibly manage. my star was in the ascendant. i had not only more money than i required for my expenses, but was enabled to maintain my poor old father, who daily became more and more infirm. i rented a small cottage at the rural village of hackney, but my labour occupied me early and late, and it was only on a sunday i could really enjoy my home. three years after quitting the office of mr. timmis, i had the inexpressible pleasure of employing him to purchase stock for his errand boy! i was proud as a king. "i said that boy would turn out well," said the good-natured mr. wallis; "he always had a good principle." "and now bids fair," said mr. timmis, "to have both principal and interest." mr. crobble having lately had a large property left him in hertfordshire, rarely came to the office above once a-quarter, to settle accounts. "a good dividend--a very good dividend!" said he, upon receipt of the last quarter's profits. "but, mr. mullins, i cannot forget that this business is your child." "and i'm happy to say a thriving one," i replied. "are you satisfied--perfectly satisfied?" demanded he. "beyond my wishes, sir." "i am not," said he shortly. "no, sir?" exclaimed i, with surprise. "no, sir!" repeated he. "those who sow should reap. i've no children--i'm an idle fellow-a drone, sir--and won't consent to consume all the honey. don't speak, sir--read that!" and he pulled a parchment from his pocket. it was a deed of partnership between cornelius crobble, of lodge, hertfordshire, esquire, and the poor cobbler's son, andrew mullins. a rigmarole.--part i. "de omnibus rebus." the evening is calm--the sun has just sunk below the tiles of the house, which serenely bounds the view from the quiet attic where i wield the anserine plume for the delectation of the pensive public--all nature, etc.--the sky is deep blue, tinged with mellowest red, like a learned lady delicately rouged, and ready for a literary soiree--the sweet-voiced pot-boy has commenced his rounds with "early beer," and with leathern lungs, and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new police-act --greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood--"baked sheeps' heads, hot!"--o! savoury morsel!--may no legislative measure ever silence this peripatetic purveyor to the poor! or prevent his calling--may the tag-rag and bob-tail never reject a sheep's head! "i never sees a sheep's head, but i thinks on you," said mrs. spriggins, whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as a duck's foot. spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving in a one-horse chaise, with two boys, and an infant in arms--spriggins whipped his horse spitefully, for mrs. s.'s sarcasm inspired him with a splenetic feeling; and as he durst not chastise her, the animal received the benefit of her impetus. spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by disposition. mrs. s. was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;"--that was the bait at which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and he was hooked! the "spousals" had astonished the vulgar--the little nightingale of twickenham would have only smiled; for has he not sweetly sung-"there swims no goose so grey, but soon or late she finds some honest gander for her mate;" and her union was a verification of this flowing couplet. at different times, what different meanings the self-same words obtain. according to the reading of the new poor-law guardians, "union," as far as regards man and wife, is explained "separation;" or, like a ship when in distress, the "union" is reversed! in respect of his union, spriggins would have most relished the reading of the former! but there are paradoxes--a species of verbal puzzle--which, in the course of this ride, our amiable family of the spriggins's experienced to their great discomfort. drawing up a turnpike-gate, mrs. s. handed a ticket to the white-aproned official of the trust. "you should have gone home the way you came out--that ticket won't do here," said the man; "so out with your coppers--three-pence." "i don't think i've got any half-pence!" said mr. s., fumbling in his pennyless pocket. "well, then, i must give you change." "but i'm afraid i hav'nt got any silver," replied mr. s., with a long face.--"i say, mister, cou'dn't you trust me?--i'd be wery sure to bring it to you." but the man only winked, and, significantly pointing the thumb of his left hand over his sinister shoulder, backed the horse. "vell, i'm blessed," exclaimed mr. s.--and so he was--with a scolding wife and a squalling infant; "and they calls this here a trust, the fools! and there ain't no trust at all!" and the poor animal got another vindictive cut. oh! mr. martin!--thou friend of quadrupeds!--would that thou had'st been there. "it's all my eye and betty martin!" muttered mr. s., as he wheeled about the jaded beast he drove, and retraced the road. a rimarole--part ii. "acti labores sunt jucundi" the horse is really a noble animal--i hate all rail-roads, for putting his nose out of joint--puffing, blowing, smoking, jotting--always going in a straight line: if this mania should continue, we shall soon have the whole island ruled over like a copy-book--nothing but straight lines--and sloping lines through every county in the kingdom! give me the green lanes and hills, when i'm inclined to diverge; and the smooth turnpike roads, when disposed to "go a-head."--"i can't bear a horse," cries numps: now this feeling is not at all reciprocal, for every horse can bear a man. "i'm off to the isle of wight," says numps: "then you're going to ryde at last," quoth i, "notwithstanding your hostility to horse-flesh." "wrong!" replies he, "i'm going to cowes." "then you're merely a mills-and-water traveller, numps!" the ninny! he does not know the delight of a canter in the green fields--except, indeed, the said canter be of the genus-homo, and a field preacher! my friend rory's the boy for a horse; he and his bit o' blood are notorious at all the meetings. in fact i never saw him out of the saddle: he is a perfect living specimen of the fabled centaur--full of anecdotes of fox-chases, and steeple-chases; he amuses me exceedingly. i last encountered him in a green lane near hornsey, mounted on a roadster --his "bit o' blood" had been sent forward, and he was leisurely making his way to the appointed spot. "i was in buckinghamshire last week," said he; "a fine turn out--such a field! i got an infernal topper tho'--smashed my best tile; tell you how it was. there was a high paling--put spitfire to it, and she took it in fine style; but, as luck would have it, the gnarled arm of an old tree came whop against my head, and bonneted me completely! thought i was brained--but we did it cleverly however--although, if ever i made a leap in the dark, that was one. i was at fault for a minute--but spitfire was all alive, and had it all her own way: with some difficulty i got my nob out of the beaver-trap, and was in at the death!" i laughed heartily at his awkward dilemma, and wishing him plenty of sport, we parted. poor rory! he has suffered many a blow and many a fall in his time; but he is still indefatigable in the pursuit of his favourite pastime--so true is it--that "the pleasure we delight in physic's pain;" his days pass lightly, and all his years are leap years! he has lately inherited a considerable property, accumulated by a miserly uncle, and has most appropriately purchased an estate in one of the ridings of yorkshire! with all his love for field-sports, however, he is no better "the better," says he, "is often the worse; and i've no notion of losing my acres in gambling; besides, my chief aim being to be considered a good horseman, i should be a consummate fool, if, by my own folly, i lost my seat!" a rigmarole--part iii. "oderunt hilarem tristes." the sad only hate a joke. now, my friend rory is in no sense a sad fellow, and he loves a joke exceedingly. his anecdotes of the turf are all racy; nor do those of the field less deserve the meed of praise! lord f____ was a dandy sportsman, and the butt of the regulars. he was described by rory as a "walkingstick"--slender, but very "knobby"--with a pair of mustaches and an eye-glass. having lost the scent, he rode one day slick into a gardener's ground, when his prad rammed his hind-legs into a brace of hand-glasses, and his fore-legs into a tulip-bed. the horticulturist and the haughty aristocrat--how different were their feelings--the cucumber coolness of the 'nil admirari' of the one was ludicrously contrasted with the indignation of the astonished cultivator of the soil. "have you seen the hounds this way?" demanded lord f____, deliberately viewing him through his glass. "hounds!" bitterly repeated the gardener, clenching his fist. "dogs, i mean," continued lord f____; "you know what a pack of hounds are--don't you?" "i know what a puppy is," retorted the man; "and if so be you don't budge, i'll spile your sport. but, first and foremost, you must lug out for the damage you have done--you're a trespasser." "i'm a sportsman, fellow--what d'ye mean?" "then sport the blunt," replied the gardener; and, closing his gates, took lord f____ prisoner: nor did he set him free till he had reimbursed him for the mischief he had done. this was just; and however illegal were the means, i applauded them for the end. our friend b___d, that incorrigible punster, said, "that his horse had put his foot in--and he had paid his footing," b___d, by the bye, is a nonpareil; whether horses, guns, or dogs, he is always "at home:" and even in yachting, (as he truly boasts) he is never "at sea." riding with him one day in an omnibus, i praised the convenience of the vehicle; "an excellent vehicle," said he, "for punning;"--which he presently proved, for a dowager having flopped into one of the seats, declared that she "never rid vithout fear in any of them omnibus things." "what is she talking about?" said i. "de omnibus rebus," replied he,--"truly she talks like the first lady of the land; but, as far as i can see, she possesses neither the carriage nor the manners!" "can you read the motto on the conductor's button?" i demanded. "no;" he replied, "but i think nothing would be more appropriate to his calling than the monkish phrase--'pro omnibus curo!'" at this juncture a jolt, followed by a crash, announced that we had lost a wheel. the dowager shrieked. "we shall all be killed," cried she; "on'y to think of meeting vun's death in a common omnibus!" "mors communis omnibus!" whispered b___d, and---i had written thus far, when spit--spit--splutter--plop!--my end of candle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was "sustained," and i was left to admire--the stars of night, and to observe that "charles's wain was over the chimney;" so i threw down my pen--and, as the house was a-bed--and i am naturally of a "retiring" disposition, i sought my pallet--dreaming of literary fame!--although, in the matter of what might be in store for me, i was completely in the dark! an intercepted letter from dick slammer to his friend sam flyke. eppin-toosday my dear sam i've rote this ere for to let you no i'm in jolly good health and harty as a brick--and hope my tulip as your as vell----read this to sal who can't do the same herself seeing as her edication aintt bin in that line ----give her my love and tell her to take care o' the kids.----i've got a silk vipe for sal, tell her; and suffing for 'em all, for i've made a xlent spec o' the woy'ge and bagg'd some tin too i can tell you; and vont ve have a blow out ven i cums amung you----napps----that's the ass----is particklar vell and as dun his dooty like a riq'lar flint---i rode too races ar' needn't say as i vun em for napps is a houtanhouter an no mistake! lork! didn't i make the natifs stare! and a gintlum as vos by, vanted to oan 'im an oferd any blunt for im but walker! says i there aint sick a ass as this 'ere hanimal in the hole country----besides he's like as vun o' me oan famly, for i've brot im up in a manner from the time he vos a babby!----he's up to a move or too and knows my voice jist for all the world like a chrissen. red-nose bill vot had a nook 'em down here brings this and he'll tell you all about the noose----i shall foller in about, a veek or so----tell sal to keep up her sperrits and not to lush vith bet----i dont like that ere ooman at all----a idle wagabone as is going to the union like vinkin----i'm no temperens cove meself as you nose, sam, but enufs enuf and as good as a feast. the gintry as taken hervite a likin to napps and me----they looks upon im as hervite a projidy----for he's licked all the donkies as run agin im----the vimmen too----(you no my insinnivating vay, sam,) and nobody nose better than me how to git the right sow by the ear----no sooner do i see 'em a comin vith their kids, than i slips of and doffs my tile, an i says, says i----do let the yung jentlum have a cast----and then the little in coorse begins a plegyin the old 'uns, and----so the jobs done! ----vot's to pay, my good man? says she ----oh----nothink, marm, says i, as modest as a turnip new-peeld----napps is a rig'lar racer----i dont let im hout but i'm so fond o' children! ----this here yummeree doos the bisnis prime, for the vimmen comes over the jentlum and a pus is made up for anuther race----and in coorse i pockits the bibs----cos vy?----napps is nothink but a good 'un. 'tother day hearin as there vos an hunt in the naborwood:----napps, says i-a----speakin to my ass----napps ve'll jist go and look at 'em-------vell ve hadnt got no more nor a mile wen i comes slap alongside of a starch-up chap upatop of raythur a good lookin' oss.----but my i! vornt there bellows to mend; and he made no more vay nor a duck in a gutter.----i says, sir, says i, dye think ve shall be in time for the hunt? but he never turns is hed but sets bolt uprite as stiff as pitch----jist for all the world as if his mother had vashed im in starch. ----i twigs his lean in a jiffy----so i says says i "oh-you needn't be so shy i rides my own hannimal,"-------vich i takes it vos more nor he co'd say, for his vas nothin more nor a borrod'un and if i dont mistake he vos a vitechapler----i think ive seed im a sarvin out svipes and blue ruin at the gin-spinners corner o' summerset street or petticut lane----dunno witch. ----sam, i hates pride so i cuts his cumpny----i says says i----napps it dont fit you aint a nunter you're o'ny a racer and that chaps afeard his prad vill be spiled a keeping conapny with a ass----leastways i'm o' the same opinyon in that respec consarning meself and----so i shall mizzle. ----a true gintlum as is a gintlum, sam is as difrent to these here stuck-up fellers az a sovrin is to a coronashun copper vot's on'y gilt. vell lie turns hof over the left and vips up his animal tryin to get up a trot----bobbin up and down in his sturrups and bumpin hisself to make a show----all flummery!----he takes the middel o' the field to hisself, and i cox my i for a houtlet and spi's a gait----that's the ticket! says i; so liting the 'bacca and blowin a cloud i trots along, and had jist cum to the gait ven turnin' round to look for the gin-spinner, blow me! sam, if i didn't see the cove again heels over head over an edge----like a tumler at bartlmy fare;----vile his preshus hannimal vas a takin it cooly in the meddo! "vat a rum chap"--says i, a larfin reddy to bust----"vat a rum chap to go over the 'edge that vay! ven here's a riglar gait to ride through!" ----and so, i druv on, but somehow, sam, i coudn't help a thinkin' as praps the waggerbun lead broke his nek----stif as it vas! and so i said to napps----"napps,"----says i----"lets go and look arter the warmint for charity's-sake" ----napps vots as good-natur'd a ass as his master, didn't make no obstacle and so ve vent------my i!----sam, i'd a stood a kervorten and three outs ad you a bin there!----there vas my jentlum up to his nek in a duckpond----lookin' as miserribble as a stray o' mutton in a batter puddin' "halp! halp!" says he, a spittin' the green veeds out of his mouth----"halp me, faller, and i'll stand a bob" or summat to that efeck. ----but i couldn't hold out my fin to him for larfin----and napps begun a brayin at sich a rate----vich struck me as if he vas a larfin too, and made me larf wusser than ever-------vell, at last, i contrivis to lug him out, and a preshus figger he cut to be sure----he had kervite a new sute o' black mud, vich didn't smell particlar sveet i can tell you. ----"ain't hurt yoursef?" says i, "have you?" ----"no"----says he----"but i'm dem wet and utterably spiled"----or vords like that for he chewd'em so fine i couldn't rightly hit 'em. ----ater i'd scraped him a little desent, and he'd tip'd a hog----vich vas rayther hansum----i ax'd him vere he'd left his tile? "tile?"----says he----a yogglin his i's and openin' his jaws like a dyin' oyster "yes your castor"----says i, "your beaver your hat." "oh!"----says he, p'inting dismal to the pond----"gone to the devil d___ me!"----so vith that he takes out a red and yuller vipe, and ties it about his hed, lookin' for all the vorld like a apple-ooman. ----as he had come down hansum i in coorse ofer'd to ketch his prad vich va'n't much difficulty----and up he jumps and lepped with a squosh into the saddle----and rid of vithout as much as sayin' by your leave good luck to you or anythink else------vell, this here vos the end and upshot o' that day's fun for i vos too late for the start by ten minnits----i saw 'em goin' it at a distance so i takes a sight!----but i had too much valley for napes to put im to it so as to get up vith 'em----or he might a done it praps!------i've lived like a fightin cock and am as fatt as butter----but the race is goin' to begin in a hour and i must go and ketch napps who's a grazin on the commun and looks oncommun vell----so no more at present from, yours, my prime 'un, dick stammer. provided by the internet archive lincoln in caricature by rufus rockwell wilson author of "washington: the capital city" illustrated with thirty-two plates printed for private distribution 1903 [illustration: titlepage] lincoln in caricature [illustration: 000] (illustrated cap) incoln in caricature is a phase of the career of the great war president that has thus far lacked adequate treatment. yet he was the most bitterly assailed and savagely cartooned public man of his time, and one has only to search the newspapers and periodicals of that period to find striking confirmation of this fact. the attitude of great britain toward the union and its president was then one of cynical and scarcely veiled hostility, and nowhere were the sentiments of the english government and of the english masses more faithfully reflected than in the cartoons which appeared in london _punch_ between 1861 and 1865, many of which had lincoln for their central figure. he was also frequently cartooned in _vanity fair_ the american counterpart of _punch_; in _frank leslie's illustrated newspaper_, and in _harper's weekly_. indeed, nowhere were the changing sentiments of the people of the north, their likes and dislikes, their alternates hopes and fears, their hasty, often unjust judgments of men and measures, more vividly reflected than in the cartoons dealing with lincoln which appeared in the last named journal during the epoch-making days of his presidency. thus the thirty-two plates from these sources here brought together have a value and interest already important and sure to increase with the passage of time, for they reflect with unconscious vividness, and as nothing else can do, the life and color of an historic era, and how his fellows regarded the grandest figure of that era. it is with their value as human documents in mind that they have been rescued from their half-forgotten hiding places, and assembled in chronological sequence, with such comment as may be necessary to make their purpose and meaning clear to older men, whose memory may have grown dim, as well as to the new generation that has come upon the stage in the eight and thirty years that have elapsed since the close of the civil war. [illustration: 001] |plate number one--this cartoon, "lincoln à la blondin," which appeared in _harper's weekly_, on august 25, 1860, seems to have been suggested by blondin's crossing of niagara on a tight rope with a man on his back--an event then fresh in the public mind. it also recalls an interesting phase of lincoln's first campaign for the presidency, which had its origin in a characteristic incident of the candidate's earlier years. it was in march, 1830, that lincoln, at that time a youth of twenty-one, removed with his father and family from indiana to illinois, locating on the bluffs of the sangamon river about ten miles from decatur. there he and his kinsman, john hanks, built a hewed log house, and broke fifteen acres of prairie sod with the two yoke of oxen they had driven from indiana. they then felled the trees, cut off the logs, and with mauls and wedges split the rails to fence in the land they had broken. the following winter, the winter of the "deep snow" as it was known in illinois, lincoln alone made three thousand rails for a neighbor, walking three miles each day to do it. the republican state convention of illinois assembled at decatur on may 9, 1860, and the first act of its chairman was to invite lincoln, who was modestly seated in the body of the hall, to a seat upon the platform. an eye-witness describes the scene that followed as one of tumultuous enthusiasm. no way could be made through the shouting throng, and lincoln was borne bodily, over their heads and shoulders, to the place of honor. quiet restored, the chairman again arose and said: "there is an old democrat outside who has something he wishes to present to this convention." then the door of the hall swung open, and a sturdy old man marched in, shouldering two fence-rails, surmounted by a banner inscribed, in large letters: "two rails from a lot made by abraham lincoln and john hanks in the sangamon bottom, in the year 1830." the bearer was john hanks himself, and he had come to do his part in making his old friend president. "it was an historic scene and moment. in an instant lincoln, the rail-splitter, was accepted as the representative of the working man and the type and embodiment of the american idea of human freedom and possible human elevation. the applause was deafening. but it was something more than mere applause," for there was no opposition afterwards, to a resolution that declared lincoln to be the first choice of the republicans of illinois for president, and instructed the delegates to the national convention to cast the vote of the state as a unit for him. it is a part of history how the tidal wave of enthusiasm behind this resolution swept from decatur to chicago, and thence over the country. [illustration: 002] |plate number two--this cartoon, "the inside track," published in _vanity fair_, on march 2, 1861, has for its motive the popular doubt and incertitude attending the make-up of the cabinet and the policy of the new administration toward the south. the president-elect is shown, with a doubtful expression on his face, flanked on either side by thurlow weed, who is drawn to represent a western river gambler of the period, and william h. seward, while horace greeley, their sworn political foe, thrusts his head through the door in time to hear weed remark impressively: "trust to my friend seward--trust to us. we'll compromise this little difficulty for you. but trust to us. gentlemen from the country are often swindled by unprincipled sharpers. trust to us." seward, as we know, became lincoln's secretary of state, and weed one of his trusted advisers, while the editor of the _tribune_ remained until the end a thorn in the side of the president. [illustration: 003] |plate number three--this cartoon, "the flight of abraham," published in _harper's weekly_, on march 9, 1861, holds up to ridicule lincoln's memorable secret journey from harrisburg to washington, but its point-of-view is a mistaken one. lincoln's advisers had good grounds for believing that there existed a plot to murder him during his passage through baltimore, and every consideration forbade needless risk. the trip across maryland was, therefore, made suddenly and in private, but there was no attempt at personal disguise, as the cartoon infers, nor any undignified concealment on the part of lincoln or the friends who accompanied him. [illustration: 004] |plate number four--this cartoon "winding off the tangled skein," published in _harper's weekly_, on march 30, 1861, recalls the days of doubt and waiting which preceded the firing on sumter and the first call for troops. [illustration: 005] |plate number five--this cartoon, "the spirit of '76," published in _vanity fair_, on may 4, 1861, breathes the spirit which prompted the great uprising of the north when the truth was brought home to its people that a war between the sections was not to be avoided. it shows the president watering a flower bed with the "spirit of '76," and remarking to columbia, who watches his work: "ain't there a nice crop! there's the hardy bunker hill flower, the seventh regiment pink, the firebug tulip. that tri-colored flower grows near independence hall. the western blossoms and prairie flowers will soon begin to shoot." "what charming plant is this?" asks columbia, pointing to a miniature gallows. "that is rare in this country," answers the president. "it will blossom soon and bear the jeffersonia davisiana." [illustration: 006] |plate number six--this cartoon, "the situation," published in _harper's weekly_, on july 13, 1861, reminds one that the advocates of compromise were numerous and noisy until well toward the close of the war. here lincoln is depicted as a constable in the act of arresting davis. "i've got you now, jeff," are his words as he lays hold of his prisoner. "guess you have," is the reply of davis. "well, now let us compromise." [illustration: 007] |plate number seven--this cartoon, "got the right weapon at last," published in _harper's weekly_, on october 19, 1861, has for its subject the first of the national loans which assured a successful prosecution of the greatest war in history. jay cooke, who still lives, was the agent through whose patriotic and sagacious efforts most of these loans found takers, and he it was to whom grant, in the closing days of the war, sent this message: "tell him for me that it is to him more than to any other man that our people will be indebted for the continued life of the nation." [illustration: 008] |plate number eight--this cartoon, without title, published in _vanity fair_, on november 16, 1861, has for its subject the union's relations with foreign powers. it depicts the president, guarding with sword and cannon a pond filled with trout (the confederacy) in which three boys--england, france and spain--are anxious to cast their lines. "boys, i reckon i wouldn't," is his significant comment. [illustration: 009] |plate number nine--this cartoon, "up a tree--colonel bull and the yankee coon," was published in _punch_ on january 11, 1862. the artist, whose point-of-view is one of contemptuous ridicule, inspired by the mason and slidell incident, and having in mind davy crockett's familiar story of colonel scott and the coon, depicts that animal with the head of lincoln, crouched on the limb of a friendly tree, and gazing furtively down on john bull, armed with a blunderbuss and about to fire, whereat the following dialogue ensues: coon--"air you in arnest, colonel?" colonel bull--"i am." coon--"don't fire--i'll come down." [illustration: 010] |plate number ten--this cartoon, "sinbad lincoln and the old man of the sea," published in _frank leslie's illustrated newspaper_, on may 3, 1862, shows the president as sinbad carrying on his shoulders the old man of the sea--gideon welles, whose course as secretary of the navy was then the cause of much ill-natured comment. we had no navy when the war began, and welles had to create one. his way of doing it provoked much opposition, but he had always the confidence of the president, and so good a judge as the late charles a. dana has told us that though "there was no noise in the street when he went along, he was a wise, strong man, who understood his duty, and who was patient, laborious and intelligent at his task." the generous growth of hair which the artist has given welles was not his own. instead he wore a wig, which was parted in the middle, the hair falling down on each side, and it was, perhaps, from his peculiar appearance that the idea originated that he was old-fashioned in his methods. [illustration: 011] |plate number eleven--this cartoon, "the new orleans plum," published in _punch_ on may 24, 1862, deals with the capture of that city, and with it the mouth of the mississippi--one of the first decisive victories of the war. the artist, borrowing from the old nursery tale, showed lincoln seated in a corner and plucking a plum from the generous pudding in his lap. possibly for fear that his design might not be perfectly clear to the british mind, the artist appended to it the legend: "big lincoln horner, up in a corner, thinking of humble pie, found under his thumb, a new orleans plum, and said,'what a cute yankee am i!'" [illustration: 012] |plate number twelve--this cartoon, "the latest from america," published in _punch_ on july 26, 1862, aims to make light of the war news sent out from new york at that time. the president is represented as a bartender, standing behind a bar on which are bottles inscribed "bunkum," "bosh" and "brag," and shifting a concoction labelled "the new york press" from the glass of victory to that of defeat. [illustration: 013] |plate number thirteen--this cartoon, "the overdue bill," published in _punch_, on september 27, 1862, has for its motive the union's crying need of men and money. the president is shown seated at a desk, with hands, as usual, thrust into his pockets, glancing discomfitedly at a paper inscribed "i promise to subdue the south in ninety days--a. lincoln," held out to him by a confederate soldier, who says "your ninety days' promissory note isn't taken up yet, sirree!" it would have been more fitting to have made seward the central figure in this cartoon, for it was lincoln's secretary of state, and not the president himself, who was loudest in proclaiming that the war would end in three months. it is worth recording that seward when questioned in after years by a friend as to the reasons which prompted this famous prediction of his, at first declined to give an answer, but finally said that he believed at the time that if the south did not give in within ninety days the north would. [illustration: 014] |plate number fourteen--this cartoon, "what will he do with them?" published in _vanity fair_, on october 4, 1862, heralds the forthcoming emancipation proclamation, the president being pictured as a vagrom bird-peddler, whom an absence of customers impels to the remark: "darn these here black-birds. if nobody won't buy'em i'll have to open the cages and let'em fly." this design recalls an historic cabinet meeting held on the saturday following the battle of antietam, which cut short lee's invasion of the north and compelled him to recross the potomac. the members of the cabinet were summoned, on this occasion, not to give advice but to hear a decision. the president told them that the hour for delay had passed, and that the time had come to make the emancipation of the slaves the declared policy of the administration. public sentiment would now sustain it. a strong and outspoken popular voice demanded it, and the demand came from the best friends of the government. "and i have promised my god that i would do it," added the president, reverently and in a low voice. "did i understand you correctly, mr. president?" asked secretary chase, who had heard but indistinctly the low-voiced utterance. "i made a solemn vow, before god," was the answer, "that if general lee should be driven back from pennsylvania, i would crown the result by the declaration of freedom to the slaves." and he did. [illustration: 015] |plate number fifteen--this cartoon, "lincoln's last warning," published in _harper's weekly_, on october 11, 1862, also deals with the subject of emancipation. the president is depicted about to apply the axe to the tree of slavery, and saying to davis, who is crouching in its branches: "if you don't come down, i'll cut the tree from under you." [illustration: 016] |plate number sixteen--this cartoon, "keep on the track," published in _vanity fair_, on november 22, 1862, has to do with the result of the congressional elections of that year. here the president is made to do duty as a locomotive engineer and to remark to his fireman (secretary seward), who is staggering under a load of fagots, each inscribed "democratic majority:" "i've got the right fuel now and i guess i can keep her steady. chuck in more, william." [illustration: 017] |plate number seventeen--this cartoon, without title, published in _harper's weekly_, on january 3, 1863, was prompted by the fearful union slaughter at fredericksburg. columbia confronts the president and demands an accounting for the thousands slain in that conflict. "this reminds me of a little joke," lincoln is made to say. "go," is the angry rejoinder, "tell your joke at springfield." which calls to mind a story told the writer by the late governor curtin of pennsylvania. it was after the battle of fredericksburg, and governor curtin had gone to the front to look after his state's dead and wounded in person. while thus engaged he received a telegram from lincoln bidding him come to washington. he responded at once, and reaching the white house late in the evening found that the president had retired. seated by the latter's bedside, he told what he had seen. "it was not a battle," said he; "it was, a slaughter. many of the wounded have received no attention, and thousands of the dead are still unburied. from the bottom of my heart, mr. president, i wish we could find some way of ending this war." lincoln listened patiently, but with manifest anxiety, to the governor's statement. when it was finished, he said: "curtin, it's a big job we've got on hand. it reminds me of what once happened to the son of a friend of mine out in illinois. there was an apple-tree in the old man's orchard of which he was especially choice, and one day in the fall his two boys, john and jim, went out to gather the apples from this tree. john climbed the tree to shake the fruit off, while jim remained below to gather it as it fell. there was a boar grubbing in the orchard, and seeing what was going on, it waddled up to the tree and began to eat the falling apples faster than jim could gather them from the ground. this roiled jim, and catching the boar by the tail he pulled vigorously, whereat the latter, with an angry squeal, began to snap at his legs. afraid to let go, jim held on for dear life, until finally, growing weary, he called to his brother to help him. john, from the top of the tree, asked what was wanted.'i want you,' said jim, between the rushes of the boar,'to come down here and help me to let go of this darned hog's tail.' and curtin," added the president, "that's just what i want of you and the rest: i want you to pitch in and help me let go of the hog's tail i have got hold of." before beginning this story lincoln had been deeply depressed. when it was finished he laughed as heartily as did his auditor, and seemed instantly to recover his wonted spirits. "pardon me, mr. president," said the governor, prompted by this change of mood, "but is not this story-telling habit of yours a sort of safety valve for you?" "you have hit it, curtin," was the quick reply. "if i could not tell these stories i think i should die." [illustration: 018] |plate number eighteen--this cartoon, published in _harper's weekly_, on january 10, 1863, also reflects the resentment provoked by the fredericksburg fiasco, for which general halleck and secretary stanton were at first held responsible in the popular mind. lincoln is shown holding these officials over the side of the ship of state. "universal advice to abraham--drop'em," was the significant legend appended to this cartoon. [illustration: 019] |plate number nineteen--this cartoon, "scene from the american tempest," published in _punch_, on january 24, 1863, was prompted by the final proclamation of emancipation, issued on the first day of that year. the president, clad in the uniform of a union soldier, hands a copy of his proclamation to a grinning negro, who points to a glowering confederate in his rear and says: "you beat him'nough, massa! berry little time, i'll beat him too." [illustration: 020] |plate number twenty--this cartoon, without title, was published in _harper's weekly_, on may 16, 1863. it deals with the underlying cause of england's unfriendly attitude toward the union--the sudden shutting off of the supply of raw material for her cotton mills. lincoln leans on a cannon and confronts john bull in plaintive mood. "hi want my cotton bought at fi'pence a pound," pleads the briton. "don't know anything about it, my dear sir," is the curt reply. "your friends the rebels are burning all the cotton they find, and i confiscate the rest. good morning, john." [illustration: 021] |plate number twenty-one--this cartoon, "right at last," was published in _frank leslie's illustrated newspaper_, on june 13, 1863. grant was still hammering at the defences of vicksburg, with the outcome of his campaign in doubt, and the people of the north impatient and distrustful. the editor of the _tribune_ was especially earnest and insistent in the demand that his work should be given into other hands. the president, who holds in his hand a broom bearing grant's name, is made to say: "greeley be hanged! i want no more new brooms. i begin to think that the worst thing about my old ones was in not being handled right." [illustration: 022] |plate number twenty-two--this cartoon, without title, was published in _vanity fair_, on july 4, 1863. when lee invaded pennsylvania to meet defeat at gettysburg, the president called upon the states of new york, pennsylvania, maryland and west virginia, for 120,000 men, for temporary use, and they were promptly supplied him. the design under review, in happy keeping with the day upon which it was issued, showed lincoln holding aloft a flag and calling for volunteers, who are flocking to him from every side. this was the last time he was cartooned in _vanity fair_. a week later that journal ceased to exist. [illustration: 023] |plate number twenty-three--this cartoon, "rowdy notions of emancipation," published in _punch_, on august 8, 1863, has for its subject the lamentable draft riots in new york city. a gang of rioters are shown beating one negro and another lies prostrate on the ground, while president lincoln stands at one side, dismayed but apparently unwilling to put an end to the foul work going on at his elbow. here _punch's_ artist is once more needlessly and manifestly unjust, for if any one deserved censure for the excesses of the draft riots, horatio seymour, then governor of new york, not lincoln, was the man upon whom the whip should have fallen. [illustration: 024] |plate number twenty-four--this cartoon, "extremes meet," was published in _punch_, on october 24, 1868. the polish insurrection was then in progress, and the american president and the russian czar are depicted triumphantly clasping hands in the foreground of an impressive picture of rapine and desolation. the result sought by the artist is made clear in the appended dialogue: _abe_--imperial son of nicholas the great, we air in the same fix, i calculate, you with your poles, with southern rebels, i, who spurn my rule and my revenge defy. _alex_--vengeance is mine, old man; see where it falls. behold yon hearths laid waste, and ruined walls, yon gibbets, where the struggling patriot hangs, whilst my brave myrmidons enjoy his pangs. the polish insurrection, then in progress, furnishes the motive of this cartoon, which serves to recall the good will shown by russia for the union, when it stood without other friends among the nations. how substantial was this good will furnishes the cue to a chapter in our history which yet remains to be written. a part of this chapter the writer once had from the lips of the late simon cameron, of pennsylvania. just before general cameron went to russia as american minister in the early part of 1862 he was charged with a secret commission. he was directed, upon the presentation of his letters to the russian chancellor in st. petersburg, to say that president lincoln asked that the minister might have a personal and confidential interview with the czar. if this was accorded he should say to the czar that the president was troubled about the possibility of interference by england or france in behalf of the confederacy, and that if the friendship of russia was such as to justify the monarch in conveying, confidentially, any intimation of his feelings and attitude in such a contingency, the president would be grateful. the interview was accorded, the message was delivered and the answer was cordial, and in about these words: "the friendship of russia for the united states has long continued, and is such as to justify the president's request. the reply of russia is ready. you will convey to mr. lincoln my personal regards, and say that the danger of interference by any european nation is exceedingly remote; but in that improbable contingency, or upon the appearance of real danger of it, the friendship of russia for the united states will be made known in a decisive manner, which no other nation will be able to mistake." this message was duly reported to the president. how the czar kept his promise came out in an interview which he granted in 1879 to wharton barker, for many years russian financial agent in america. he said to barker: "in the autumn of 1862 france and england proposed to russia in formal (but not in official) way, the joint recognition by european nations of the independence of the confederate states. my immediate answer was:'i will not cooperate in such action, and i will not acquiesce; but, on the contrary, i shall accept recognition of the independence of the confederate states as a _casus belli_ for russia, and that the governments of france and england may understand that this is no idle threat, i will send a pacific fleet to san francisco and an atlantic fleet to new york.' sealed orders were given to both admirals. my fleets arrived at the american ports, there was no recognition of the independence of the confederate states by england and france, the american rebellion was put down and the great american republic continues. all this i did because of love for my own dear russia. i acted thus because i understood that russia would have a more serious task to perform if the american republic, with advanced industrial development, was broken up and england left in control of most branches of modern industrial development." it was england's warm resentment of russia's attitude that prompted the cartoon under consideration. even more pronounced in its mocking cynicism was _punch's_ cartoon for november 7, 1863. the tacit alliance between russia and the united states still grated upon english sensibilities, and the artist provoked the multitude to laughter by depicting the president as mephistopheles saluting the russian bear. hard things in plenty were said of lincoln, both at home and abroad, but this is the only instance in which he was portrayed in satan's livery. british malice could go no further than this. [illustration: 025] |plate number twenty-five--this cartoon, "drawing things to a head," published in _harper's weekly_, on november 28, 1863, shows how the friendship of russia was regarded in the loyal states. lincoln, ensconced in a snug apothecary shop, watched from the opposite side of the street by john bull and napoleon, is made to say to secretary seward, who is presented as an errand boy with a basket of russian salve on his arm: "mild applications of russian salve for our friends over the way, and heavy doses and plenty of it for our southern patient." [illustration: 026] |plate number twenty-six--this cartoon, "this reminds me of a little joke," published in _harper's weekly_, on september 17, 1864, recalls the extraordinary presidential campaign of that year. there was, during the opening months of 1864, a determined and more or less noisy opposition to the renomination of lincoln. this came from two sources--the radical abolitionists, who chafed at what they called the president's half-hearted policy in regard to slavery, and another element, which, while supporting the union, believed that slavery should be let alone; but it shrank into insignificance as time went on, and when the republican convention met at baltimore on june 7, lincoln was renominated on the first ballot. the democratic national convention was held twelve weeks later in chicago. a few days before it met president lincoln said to a friend: "they must nominate a peace democrat on a war platform, or a war democrat on a peace platform." the convention chose the second of these alternatives. it adopted a platform which declared the war a failure and demanded an immediate cessation of hostilities, and it nominated for president the best known of all the war democrats, general george b. mcclellan. the latter's chances of election, whatever they may have been, disappeared within a fortnight of his nomination. the course of the war during the summer had been studded thickly with bloody and seemingly indecisive battles. both in the east and the west the opposing armies were grinding in almost continuous struggle. but sherman's capture of atlanta and farra-gut's entrance into mobile harbor, proved to the people of the north that the end was in sight, and when the president called for five hundred thousand more men they came forward rapidly, a large and valuable percentage of them being volunteers who had served their time under previous enlistments. long before election day it was evident that no prospect remained of democratic success. when the polls were closed and the votes counted, lincoln's enormous popular majority of more than 400,000 fairly buried the mcclellan electoral tickets. kentucky and delaware, with new jersey, testified their disgust with emancipation, but they were of small account in an electoral college of 233 votes, wherein 212 were solidly against them. [illustration: 027] |plate number twenty-seven--this cartoon, "the american brothers; or, how will they get out of it," was published in _punch_ on november 5, 1864. it has, in the light of after events, a touch of humor not intended by the artist. when it was drawn, the belief was generally prevalent in england that lincoln's defeat at the coming election was a foregone conclusion. thus, this cartoon pictures lincoln and davis bound to adjacent benches by ropes, significantly labelled "debts," but it was still wet from the press when lincoln, as we have just seen, was re-elected by the largest majority in the electoral college ever given to a candidate. [illustration: 028] |plate number twenty-eight--this cartoon, "long abraham lincoln a little longer," published in _harper's weekly_, on november 26, 1864, tells its own story and bears witness to the joyful relief with which the people of the north greeted the re-election of lincoln. very like the foregoing in spirit and treatment (and for that reason not reproduced in this place) is a cartoon published in _frank leslie's illustrated newspaper_ on december 3, 1864. it bears title, "jeff davis' november nightmare," and places the president, with legs drawn up, on the bed of the confederate leader. "is that you still there, long abe?" asks the suddenly awakened man. "yes, and i am going to be four years longer," is the reply. [illustration: 029] |plate number twenty-nine--this cartoon, "the federal phoenix," was published in _punch_, on december 3, 1864. its character is explained in its title, and it shows one of those fabled birds, on which the artist has placed the head of lincoln, rising from a pyre, the fuel for which is furnished by commerce, credit, the constitution, a free press, habeas corpus and state rights. how it impressed the public for whom it was intended can only be conjectured, but to the eyes of an american, a generation after the death of the man whom it thus held up to condemnation, it seems as brutal in motive as it is misleading in fact. [illustration: 030] |plate number thirty--this-cartoon, "the threatening notice," published in _punch_, on february 26, 1865, represents lincoln remonstrating with the american eagle in the dress of uncle sam over the senate's proposed abrogation of canadian treaties. "now, uncle sam," the president is reported as saying, "you're in a darned hurry to serve this notice on john bull. now, it's my duty as your attorney, to tell you that you may drive him to go over to that cuss, davis." but john bull was not to be driven "over to that cuss, davis." two months later the war was ended, and lincoln dead. _punch_ has caricatured him for the last time. [illustration: 031] |plate number thirty-one--this cartoon, "from our special war correspondent," was published in _harper's weekly_, on april 15, 1865. lincoln, who had lately made his last visit to the front, was represented, with a drumhead for a table, writing from city point, virginia: "all seems well with us." these words, in the light of after events, are not without a touch of pathos. when the journal in which they appeared reached its readers, booth's bullet had done its work and lincoln had become the gentlest memory in our history. [illustration: 031] |plate number thirty-two--this cartoon, "britannia sympathizes with columbia," published in _punch_, on may 6,1865, testifies to the world-wide grief which attended the death of the great war president, and shows how strong had become his hold upon all men who love brave deeds and honest lives. britons had not hesitated to criticise and upbraid him living, but dead they were quick to recognize him as the noblest, knightliest figure of an age rich above all things else in the number and grandeur of its great men. it has been impossible to trace the authorship of most of the cartoons herewith reproduced from _harper s weekly_ and _frank leslie's illustrated newspaper_, but three of them, at least, are known to be from the pencil of the elder frank bellew, an english artist who came to this country to embark with john brougham in the publication of a short-lived weekly, called the _lantern_, later helping to found half a dozen other periodicals. bellew had cleverness and versatility, and a rich vein of humor, as the drawings "sinbad lincoln and the old man of the sea," "lincoln's last warning" and "long abraham a little longer" bear witness, but he failed to achieve complete success in his work, and left no impress upon the political thought of his time. the designer of a majority of the cartoons reproduced from _vanity fair_, which, between 1859 and 1863, ran a checkered but lively existence, was the late henry louis stephens, a man of fertile and incisive wit, with unusual ability to enforce a pictorial moral by simple yet telling methods. for a brief period mr. stephens's attitude toward lincoln seems to have been touched by the not always good-natured suspicion with which the public regards a new and comparatively untried man; but no sooner had sumter been fired upon than the artist and his journal became ardent and unswerving in their support of the union, and so continued until the end. stephens's drawings, though somewhat crude and faulty in method, are, nevertheless, notable for their originality and force. he lacked, however, either the inclination or the opportunity to continue in the field for which he had shown so marked an aptitude, and long before his death, in 1883, fallen into obscurity. all of the cartoons reproduced from london _punch_ are from the pencil of sir john tenniel, who, in 1901, concluded half a century of brilliant service on that journal. tenniel was already an artist of repute when he joined the staff of _punch_ in 1851, and for many years preceding his self-sought retirement he was recognized as incomparably the greatest caricaturist of his time--his pencil a force to be taken into account by sagacious statesmen in every forecast of the drift of public opinion. his range is not a wide one, yet within its clearly defined limits he is nearly always powerful. although his methods are usually simple, through them he secures signal breadth and strength, while now and then he gives an impression of power such as one fancies an angelo might have given had he amused himself by drawings reflecting upon the politics of his time. if there was any doubt in official minds respecting the necessity of sending an army to the rescue of khartoum, it vanished when tenniel drew his picture of general gordon standing behind an earthwork and looking across the desert for a glimpse of the expected redcoats. that touched the heart of england, and was more potent than the fiercest denunciation from the opposition bench of the gladstone ministry's inaction in the soudan. tenniel is first of all a satirist, but he has seldom been either unjust or unfair in his work. his longest and most memorable departure from fairness was when, in common with the ruling class of england generally, he misinterpreted our civil war and caricatured the chief actor therein with astonishing perversity. still, he was not more frequently or more deeply in the wrong than some of our own politicians, who could not plead his excuse of distance from the scene, and, to his credit, be it said, when once convinced of his error he made prompt and generous amends therefor. nothing could have been more fitting nor finer in its way than his design, already referred to, which showed britannia laying a wreath on the bier of the martyred president and which was accompanied by these appreciative lines from the pen of tom taylor: |you lay a wreath on murdered lincoln's bier, _you_, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, brood for the self-complacent british sneer, his length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, his gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkept, bristling hair, his garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, his lack of all we prize as debonair, of power or will to shine, of art to please. you, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, judging each step as though the way were plain; reckless, so it could point its paragraph, of chief's perplexity, or people's pain. beside this corpse that bears for winding sheet the stars and stripes he lived to rear anew; between the mourners at his head and feet, say, scurril jester, is there room for _you?_ yes, he has lived to shame me for my sneer, to lame my pencil and confute my pen-to make me own this hind of princes peer, this rail-splitter, a true-born king of men. my shallow judgment i have learned to rue, noting how to occasion's height he rose; how his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true, how, iron-like, his temper grew by blows. how humble yet how hopeful he could be; how in good fortune and in ill the same; nor bitter in success nor boastful he, thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. he went about his work, such work as few ever had laid on head and heart and hand, as one who knows where there's a task to do, man's honest will must heaven's good grace command; who trusts the strength will with the burden grow, that god makes instruments to work his will, if but that will we can arrive to know, nor tamper with the weights of good and ill. so he went forth to battle on the side that he felt clear was liberty's and right's, as in his peasant boyhood he had plied his warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights; the uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, the iron-bark that turns the lumberer's ax, the rapid that o'erbears the boatman's toil, the prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks, the ambushed indian and the prowling bear-such were the deeds that helped his youth to train: rough culture, but such trees large fruit may bear, if but their stocks be of right girth and grain. so he grew up, a destined work to do, and lived to do it; four long-suffering years' ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through, and then he heard the hisses changed to cheers, the taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise, and took both with the same unwavering mood; till, as he came on light, from darkling days, and seemed to touch the goal from where he stood, a felon hand, between the goal and him, reached from behind his back, a trigger prest, and those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest! the words of mercy were upon his lips, forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, when his vile murderer brought swift eclipse to thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men. the old world and the new, from sea to sea, utter one voice of sympathy and shame! sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high, sad life, cut short, just as its triumph came. a deed accurst! strokes have been struck before by the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt if more of honor or disgrace they bore; but thy foul crime, like cain's, stands darkly out. vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife, whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly driven; and with the martyr's crown crownest a life, with much to praise, little to be forgiven. george cruikshank by william makepeace thackeray * reprinted from the westminster review for june, 1840. (no 66.) accusations of ingratitude, and just accusations no doubt, are made against every inhabitant of this wicked world, and the fact is, that a man who is ceaselessly engaged in its trouble and turmoil, borne hither and thither upon the fierce waves of the crowd, bustling, shifting, struggling to keep himself somewhat above water--fighting for reputation, or more likely for bread, and ceaselessly occupied to-day with plans for appeasing the eternal appetite of inevitable hunger to-morrow--a man in such straits has hardly time to think of anything but himself, and, as in a sinking ship, must make his own rush for the boats, and fight, struggle, and trample for safety. in the midst of such a combat as this, the "ingenious arts, which prevent the ferocity of the manners, and act upon them as an emollient" (as the philosophic bard remarks in the latin grammar) are likely to be jostled to death, and then forgotten. the world will allow no such compromises between it and that which does not belong to it--no two gods must we serve; but (as one has seen in some old portraits) the horrible glazed eyes of necessity are always fixed upon you; fly away as you will, black care sits behind you, and with his ceaseless gloomy croaking drowns the voice of all more cheerful companions. happy he whose fortune has placed him where there is calm and plenty, and who has the wisdom not to give up his quiet in quest of visionary gain. here is, no doubt, the reason why a man, after the period of his boyhood, or first youth, makes so few friends. want and ambition (new acquaintances which are introduced to him along with his beard) thrust away all other society from him. some old friends remain, it is true, but these are become as a habit--a part of your selfishness; and, for new ones, they are selfish as you are. neither member of the new partnership has the capital of affection and kindly feeling, or can even afford the time that is requisite for the establishment of the new firm. damp and chill the shades of the prison-house begin to close round us, and that "vision splendid" which has accompanied our steps in our journey daily farther from the east, fades away and dies into the light of common day. and what a common day! what a foggy, dull, shivering apology for light is this kind of muddy twilight through which we are about to tramp and flounder for the rest of our existence, wandering farther and farther from the beauty and freshness and from the kindly gushing springs of clear gladness that made all around us green in our youth! one wanders and gropes in a slough of stock-jobbing, one sinks or rises in a storm of politics, and in either case it is as good to fall as to rise--to mount a bubble on the crest of the wave, as to sink a stone to the bottom. the reader who has seen the name affixed to the head of this article scarcely expected to be entertained with a declamation upon ingratitude, youth, and the vanity of human pursuits, which may seem at first sight to have little to do with the subject in hand. but (although we reserve the privilege of discoursing upon whatever subject shall suit us, and by no means admit the public has any right to ask in our sentences for any meaning, or any connection whatever) it happens that, in this particular instance, there is an undoubted connection. in susan's case, as recorded by wordsworth, what connection had the corner of wood street with a mountain ascending, a vision of trees, and a nest by the dove? why should the song of a thrush cause bright volumes of vapor to glide through lothbury, and a river to flow on through the vale of cheapside? as she stood at that corner of wood street, a mop and a pail in her hand most likely, she heard the bird singing, and straight-way began pining and yearning for the days of her youth, forgetting the proper business of the pail and mop. even so we are moved by the sight of some of mr. cruikshank's works--the "busen fuhlt sich jugendlich erschuttert," the "schwankende gestalten" of youth flit before one again,--cruikshank's thrush begins to pipe and carol, as in the days of boyhood; hence misty moralities, reflections, and sad and pleasant remembrances arise. he is the friend of the young especially. have we not read, all the story-books that his wonderful pencil has illustrated? did we not forego tarts, in order to buy his "breaking-up," or his "fashionable monstrosities" of the year eighteen hundred and something? have we not before us, at this very moment, a print,--one of the admirable "illustrations of phrenology"--which entire work was purchased by a joint-stock company of boys, each drawing lots afterwards for the separate prints, and taking his choice in rotation? the writer of this, too, had the honor of drawing the first lot, and seized immediately upon "philoprogenitiveness"--a marvellous print (our copy is not at all improved by being colored, which operation we performed on it ourselves)--a marvellous print, indeed,--full of ingenuity and fine jovial humor. a father, possessor of an enormous nose and family, is surrounded by the latter, who are, some of them, embracing the former. the composition writhes and twists about like the kermes of rubens. no less than seven little men and women in nightcaps, in frocks, in bibs, in breeches, are clambering about the head, knees, and arms of the man with the nose; their noses, too, are preternaturally developed--the twins in the cradle have noses of the most considerable kind. the second daughter, who is watching them; the youngest but two, who sits squalling in a certain wicker chair; the eldest son, who is yawning; the eldest daughter, who is preparing with the gravy of two mutton-chops a savory dish of yorkshire pudding for eighteen persons; the youths who are examining her operations (one a literary gentleman, in a remarkably neat nightcap and pinafore, who has just had his finger in the pudding); the genius who is at work on the slate, and the two honest lads who are hugging the good-humored washerwoman, their mother,--all, all, save, this worthy woman, have noses of the largest size. not handsome certainly are they, and yet everybody must be charmed with the picture. it is full of grotesque beauty. the artist has at the back of his own skull, we are certain, a huge bump of philoprogenitiveness. he loves children in his heart; every one of those he has drawn is perfectly happy, and jovial, and affectionate, and innocent as possible. he makes them with large noses, but he loves them, and you always find something kind in the midst of his humor, and the ugliness redeemed by a sly touch of beauty. the smiling mother reconciles one with all the hideous family: they have all something of the mother in them--something kind, and generous, and tender. knight's, in sweeting's alley; fairburn's, in a court off ludgate hill; hone's, in fleet street--bright, enchanted palaces, which george cruikshank used to people with grinning, fantastical imps, and merry, harmless sprites,--where are they? fairburn's shop knows him no more; not only has knight disappeared from sweeting's alley, but, as we are given to understand, sweetings alley has disappeared from the face of the globe. slop, the atrocious castlereagh, the sainted caroline (in a tight pelisse, with feathers in her head), the "dandy of sixty," who used to glance at us from hone's friendly windows--where are they? mr. cruikshank may have drawn a thousand better things since the days when these were; but they are to us a thousand times more pleasing than anything else he has done. how we used to believe in them! to stray miles out of the way on holidays, in order to ponder for an hour before that delightful window in sweeting's alley! in walks through fleet street, to vanish abruptly down fairburn's passage, and there make one at his "charming gratis" exhibition. there used to be a crowd round the window in those days, of grinning, good-natured mechanics, who spelt the songs, and spoke them out for the benefit of the company, and who received the points of humor with a general sympathizing roar. where are these people now? you never hear any laughing at hb.; his pictures are a great deal too genteel for that--polite points of wit, which strike one as exceedingly clever and pretty, and cause one to smile in a quiet, gentleman-like kind of way. there must be no smiling with cruikshank. a man who does not laugh outright is a dullard, and has no heart; even the old dandy of sixty must have laughed at his own wondrous grotesque image, as they say louis philippe did, who saw all the caricatures that were made of himself. and there are some of cruikshank's designs which have the blessed faculty of creating laughter as often as you see them. as diggory says in the play, who is bidden by his master not to laugh while waiting at table--"don't tell the story of grouse in the gun-room, master, or i can't help laughing." repeat that history ever so often, and at the proper moment, honest diggory is sure to explode. every man, no doubt, who loves cruikshank has his "grouse in the gun-room." there is a fellow in the "points of humor" who is offering to eat up a certain little general, that has made us happy any time these sixteen years: his huge mouth is a perpetual well of laughter--buckets full of fun can be drawn from it. we have formed no such friendships as that boyish one of the man with the mouth. but though, in our eyes, mr. cruikshank reached his apogee some eighteen years since, it must not be imagined that such is really the case. eighteen sets of children have since then learned to love and admire him, and may many more of their successors be brought up in the same delightful faith. it is not the artist who fails, but the men who grow cold--the men, from whom the illusions (why illusions? realities) of youth disappear one by one; who have no leisure to be happy, no blessed holidays, but only fresh cares at midsummer and christmas, being the inevitable seasons which bring us bills instead of pleasures. tom, who comes bounding home from school, has the doctor's account in his trunk, and his father goes to sleep at the pantomime to which he takes him. pater infelix, you too have laughed at clown, and the magic wand of spangled harlequin; what delightful enchantment did it wave around you, in the golden days "when george the third was king!" but our clown lies in his grave; and our harlequin, ellar, prince of how many enchanted islands, was he not at bow street the other day,* in his dirty, tattered, faded motley--seized as a law-breaker, for acting at a penny theatre, after having wellnigh starved in the streets, where nobody would listen to his old guitar? no one gave a shilling to bless him: not one of us who owe him so much. * this was written in 1840. we know not if mr. cruikshank will be very well pleased at finding his name in such company as that of clown and harlequin; but he, like them, is certainly the children's friend. his drawings abound in feeling for these little ones, and hideous as in the course of his duty he is from time to time compelled to design them, he never sketches one without a certain pity for it, and imparting to the figure a certain grotesque grace. in happy schoolboys he revels; plum-pudding and holidays his needle has engraved over and over again; there is a design in one of the comic almanacs of some young gentlemen who are employed in administering to a schoolfellow the correction of the pump, which is as graceful and elegant as a drawing of stothard. dull books about children george cruikshank makes bright with illustrations--there is one published by the ingenious and opulent mr. tegg. it is entitled "mirth and morality," the mirth being, for the most part, on the side of the designer--the morality, unexceptionable certainly, the author's capital. here are then, to these moralities, a smiling train of mirths supplied by george cruikshank. see yonder little fellows butterfly-hunting across a common! such a light, brisk, airy, gentleman-like drawing was never made upon such a theme. who, cries the author- "who has not chased the butterfly, and crushed its slender legs and wings, and heaved a moralizing sigh: alas! how frail are human things!" a very unexceptionable morality truly; but it would have puzzled another than george cruikshank to make mirth out of it as he has done. away, surely not on the wings of these verses, cruikshank's imagination begins to soar; and he makes us three darling little men on a green common, backed by old farmhouses, somewhere about may. a great mixture of blue and clouds in the air, a strong fresh breeze stirring, tom's jacket flapping in the same, in order to bring down the insect queen or king of spring that is fluttering above him,--he renders all this with a few strokes on a little block of wood not two inches square, upon which one may gaze for hours, so merry and lifelike a scene does it present. what a charming creative power is this, what a privilege--to be a god, and create little worlds upon paper, and whole generations of smiling, jovial men, women, and children half inch high, whose portraits are carried abroad, and have the faculty of making us monsters of six feet curious and happy in our turn. now, who would imagine that an artist could make anything of such a subject as this? the writer begins by stating,- "i love to go back to the days of my youth, and to reckon my joys to the letter, and to count o'er the friends that i have in the world, ay, and those who are gone to a better." this brings him to the consideration of his uncle. "of all the men i have ever known," says he, "my uncle united the greatest degree of cheerfulness with the sobriety of manhood. though a man when i was a boy, he was yet one of the most agreeable companions i ever possessed. . . . he embarked for america, and nearly twenty years passed by before he came back again; . . . but oh, how altered!--he was in every sense of the word an old man, his body and mind were enfeebled, and second childishness had come upon him. how often have i bent over him, vainly endeavoring to recall to his memory the scenes we had shared together: and how frequently, with an aching heart, have i gazed on his vacant and lustreless eye, while he has amused himself in clapping his hands and singing with a quavering voice a verse of a psalm." alas! such are the consequences of long residences in america, and of old age even in uncles! well, the point of this morality is, that the uncle one day in the morning of life vowed that he would catch his two nephews and tie them together, ay, and actually did so, for all the efforts the rogues made to run away from him; but he was so fatigued that he declared he never would make the attempt again, whereupon the nephew remarks,--"often since then, when engaged in enterprises beyond my strength, have i called to mind the determination of my uncle." does it not seem impossible to make a picture out of this? and yet george cruikshank has produced a charming design, in which the uncles and nephews are so prettily portrayed that one is reconciled to their existence, with all their moralities. many more of the mirths in this little book are excellent, especially a great figure of a parson entering church on horseback,--an enormous parson truly, calm, unconscious, unwieldy. as zeuxis had a bevy of virgins in order to make his famous picture--his express virgin--a clerical host must have passed under cruikshank's eyes before he sketched this little, enormous parson of parsons. being on the subject of children's books, how shall we enough praise the delightful german nursery-tales, and cruikshank's illustrations of them? we coupled his name with pantomime awhile since, and sure never pantomimes were more charming than these. of all the artists that ever drew, from michael angelo upwards and downwards, cruikshank was the man to illustrate these tales, and give them just the proper admixture of the grotesque, the wonderful, and the graceful. may all mother bunch's collection be similarly indebted to him; may "jack the giant killer," may "tom thumb," may "puss in boots," be one day revivified by his pencil. is not whittington sitting yet on highgate hill, and poor cinderella (in that sweetest of all fairy stories) still pining in her lonely chimney-nook? a man who has a true affection for these delightful companions of his youth is bound to be grateful to them if he can, and we pray mr. cruikshank to remember them. it is folly to say that this or that kind of humor is too good for the public, that only a chosen few can relish it. the best humor that we know of has been as eagerly received by the public as by the most delicate connoisseur. there is hardly a man in england who can read but will laugh at falstaff and the humor of joseph andrews; and honest mr. pickwick's story can be felt and loved by any person above the age of six. some may have a keener enjoyment of it than others, but all the world can be merry over it, and is always ready to welcome it. the best criterion of good humor is success, and what a share of this has mr. cruikshank had! how many millions of mortals has he made happy! we have heard very profound persons talk philosophically of the marvellous and mysterious manner in which he has suited himself to the time--fait vibrer la fibre populaire (as napoleon boasted of himself), supplied a peculiar want felt at a peculiar period, the simple secret of which is, as we take it, that he, living amongst the public, has with them a general wide-hearted sympathy, that he laughs at what they laugh at, that he has a kindly spirit of enjoyment, with not a morsel of mysticism in his composition; that he pities and loves the poor, and jokes at the follies of the great, and that he addresses all in a perfectly sincere and manly way. to be greatly successful as a professional humorist, as in any other calling, a man must be quite honest, and show that his heart is in his work. a bad preacher will get admiration and a hearing with this point in his favor, where a man of three times his acquirements will only find indifference and coldness. is any man more remarkable than our artist for telling the truth after his own manner? hogarth's honesty of purpose was as conspicuous in an earlier time, and we fancy that gilray would have been far more successful and more powerful but for that unhappy bribe, which turned the whole course of his humor into an unnatural channel. cruikshank would not for any bribe say what he did not think, or lend his aid to sneer down anything meritorious, or to praise any thing or person that deserved censure. when he levelled his wit against the regent, and did his very prettiest for the princess, he most certainly believed, along with the great body of the people whom he represents, that the princess was the most spotless, pure-mannered darling of a princess that ever married a heartless debauchee of a prince royal. did not millions believe with him, and noble and learned lords take their oaths to her royal highness's innocence? cruikshank would not stand by and see a woman ill-used, and so struck in for her rescue, he and the people belaboring with all their might the party who were making the attack, and determining, from pure sympathy and indignation, that the woman must be innocent because her husband treated her so foully. to be sure we have never heard so much from mr. cruikshank's own lips, but any man who will examine these odd drawings, which first made him famous, will see what an honest hearty hatred the champion of woman has for all who abuse her, and will admire the energy with which he flings his wood-blocks at all who side against her. canning, castlereagh, bexley, sidmouth, he is at them, one and all; and as for the prince, up to what a whipping-post of ridicule did he tie that unfortunate old man! and do not let squeamish tories cry out about disloyalty; if the crown does wrong, the crown must be corrected by the nation, out of respect, of course, for the crown. in those days, and by those people who so bitterly attacked the son, no word was ever breathed against the father, simply because he was a good husband, and a sober, thrifty, pious, orderly man. this attack upon the prince regent we believe to have been mr. cruikshank's only effort as a party politician. some early manifestoes against napoleon we find, it is true, done in the regular john bull style, with the gilray model for the little upstart corsican: but as soon as the emperor had yielded to stern fortune our artist's heart relented (as beranger's did on the other side of the water), and many of our readers will doubtless recollect a fine drawing of "louis xviii. trying on napoleon's boots," which did not certainly fit the gouty son of saint louis. such satirical hits as these, however, must not be considered as political, or as anything more than the expression of the artist's national british idea of frenchmen. it must be confessed that for that great nation mr. cruikshank entertains a considerable contempt. let the reader examine the "life in paris," or the five hundred designs in which frenchmen are introduced, and he will find them almost invariably thin, with ludicrous spindle-shanks, pigtails, outstretched hands, shrugging shoulders, and queer hair and mustachios. he has the british idea of a frenchman; and if he does not believe that the inhabitants of france are for the most part dancing-masters and barbers, yet takes care to depict such in preference, and would not speak too well of them. it is curious how these traditions endure. in france, at the present moment, the englishman on the stage is the caricatured englishman at the time of the war, with a shock red head, a long white coat, and invariable gaiters. those who wish to study this subject should peruse monsieur paul de kock's histories of "lord boulingrog" and "lady crockmilove." on the other hand, the old emigre has taken his station amongst us, and we doubt if a good british gallery would understand that such and such a character was a frenchman unless he appeared in the ancient traditional costume. a curious book, called "life in paris," published in 1822, contains a number of the artist's plates in the aquatint style; and though we believe he had never been in that capital, the designs have a great deal of life in them, and pass muster very well. a villanous race of shoulder-shrugging mortals are his frenchmen indeed. and the heroes of the tale, a certain mr. dick wildfire, squire jenkins, and captain o'shuffleton, are made to show the true british superiority on every occasion when britons and french are brought together. this book was one among the many that the designer's genius has caused to be popular; the plates are not carefully executed, but, being colored, have a pleasant, lively look. the same style was adopted in the once famous book called "tom and jerry, or life in london," which must have a word of notice here, for, although by no means mr. cruikshank's best work, his reputation was extraordinarily raised by it. tom and jerry were as popular twenty years since as mr. pickwick and sam weller now are; and often have we wished, while reading the biographies of the latter celebrated personages, that they had been described as well by mr. cruikshank's pencil as by mr. dickens's pen. as for tom and jerry, to show the mutability of human affairs and the evanescent nature of reputation, we have been to the british museum and no less than five circulating libraries in quest of the book, and "life in london," alas, is not to be found at any one of them. we can only, therefore, speak of the work from recollection, but have still a very clear remembrance of the leather gaiters of jerry hawthorn, the green spectacles of logic, and the hooked nose of corinthian tom. they were the schoolboy's delight; and in the days when the work appeared we firmly believed the three heroes above named to be types of the most elegant, fashionable young fellows the town afforded, and thought their occupations and amusements were those of all high-bred english gentlemen. tom knocking down the watchman at temple bar; tom and jerry dancing at almack's; or flirting in the saloon at the theatre; at the night-houses, after the play; at tom cribb's, examining the silver cup then in the possession of that champion; at the chambers of bob logic, who, seated at a cabinet piano, plays a waltz to which corinthian tom and kate are dancing; ambling gallantly in rotten row; or examining the poor fellow at newgate who was having his chains knocked off before hanging: all these scenes remain indelibly engraved upon the mind, and so far we are independent of all the circulating libraries in london. as to the literary contents of the book, they have passed sheer away. it was, most likely, not particularly refined; nay, the chances are that it was absolutely vulgar. but it must have had some merit of its own, that is clear; it must have given striking descriptions of life in some part or other of london, for all london read it, and went to see it in its dramatic shape. the artist, it is said, wished to close the career of the three heroes by bringing them all to ruin, but the writer, or publishers, would not allow any such melancholy subjects to dash the merriment of the public, and we believe tom, jerry, and logic, were married off at the end of the tale, as if they had been the most moral personages in the world. there is some goodness in this pity, which authors and the public are disposed to show towards certain agreeable, disreputable characters of romance. who would mar the prospects of honest roderick random, or charles surface, or tom jones? only a very stern moralist indeed. and in regard of jerry hawthorn and that hero without a surname, corinthian tom, mr. cruikshank, we make little doubt, was glad in his heart that he was not allowed to have his own way. soon after the "tom and jerry" and the "life in paris," mr. cruikshank produced a much more elaborate set of prints, in a work which was called "points of humor." these "points" were selected from various comic works, and did not, we believe, extend beyond a couple of numbers, containing about a score of copper-plates. the collector of humorous designs cannot fail to have them in his portfolio, for they contain some of the very best efforts of mr. cruikshank's genius, and though not quite so highly labored as some of his later productions, are none the worse, in our opinion, for their comparative want of finish. all the effects are perfectly given, and the expression is as good as it could be in the most delicate engraving upon steel. the artist's style, too, was then completely formed; and, for our parts, we should say that we preferred his manner of 1825 to any other which he has adopted since. the first picture, which is called "the point of honor," illustrates the old story of the officer who, on being accused of cowardice for refusing to fight a duel, came among his brother officers and flung a lighted grenade down upon the floor, before which his comrades fled ignominiously. this design is capital, and the outward rush of heroes, walking, trampling, twisting, scuffling at the door, is in the best style of the grotesque. you see but the back of most of these gentlemen; into which, nevertheless, the artist has managed to throw an expression of ludicrous agony that one could scarcely have expected to find in such a part of the human figure. the next plate is not less good. it represents a couple who, having been found one night tipsy, and lying in the same gutter, were, by a charitable though misguided gentleman, supposed to be man and wife, and put comfortably to bed together. the morning came; fancy the surprise of this interesting pair when they awoke and discovered their situation. fancy the manner, too, in which cruikshank has depicted them, to which words cannot do justice. it is needless to state that this fortuitous and temporary union was followed by one more lasting and sentimental, and that these two worthy persons were married, and lived happily ever after. we should like to go through every one of these prints. there is the jolly miller, who, returning home at night, calls upon his wife to get him a supper, and falls to upon rashers of bacon and ale. how he gormandizes, that jolly miller! rasher after rasher, how they pass away frizzling and, smoking from the gridiron down that immense grinning gulf of a mouth. poor wife! how she pines and frets, at that untimely hour of midnight to be obliged to fry, fry, fry perpetually, and minister to the monster's appetite. and yonder in the clock: what agonized face is that we see? by heavens, it is the squire of the parish. what business has he there? let us not ask. suffice it to say, that he has, in the hurry of the moment, left up stairs his br----; his--psha! a part of his dress, in short, with a number of bank-notes in the pockets. look in the next page, and you will see the ferocious, bacon-devouring ruffian of a miller is actually causing this garment to be carried through the village and cried by the town-crier. and we blush to be obliged to say that the demoralized miller never offered to return the banknotes, although he was so mighty scrupulous in endeavoring to find an owner for the corduroy portfolio in which he had found them. passing from this painful subject, we come, we regret to state, to a series of prints representing personages not a whit more moral. burns's famous "jolly beggars" have all had their portraits drawn by cruikshank. there is the lovely "hempen widow," quite as interesting and romantic as the famous mrs. sheppard, who has at the lamented demise of her husband adopted the very same consolation. "my curse upon them every one, they've hanged my braw john highlandman; . . . . and now a widow i must mourn departed joys that ne'er return; no comfort but a hearty can when i think on john highlandman." sweet "raucle carlin," she has none of the sentimentality of the english highwayman's lady; but being wooed by a tinker and "a pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle wha us'd to trystes and fairs to driddle," prefers the practical to the merely musical man. the tinker sings with a noble candor, worthy of a fellow of his strength of body and station in life- "my bonnie lass, i work in brass, a tinker is my station; i've travell'd round all christian ground in this my occupation. i've ta'en the gold, i've been enroll'd in many a noble squadron; but vain they search'd when off i march'd to go an' clout the caudron." it was his ruling passion. what was military glory to him, forsooth? he had the greatest contempt for it, and loved freedom and his copper kettle a thousand times better--a kind of hardware diogenes. of fiddling he has no better opinion. the picture represents the "sturdy caird" taking "poor gut-scraper" by the beard,--drawing his "roosty rapier," and swearing to "speet him like a pliver" unless he would relinquish the bonnie lassie for ever- "wi' ghastly ee, poor tweedle-dee upon his hunkers bended, an' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, an' so the quarrel ended." hark how the tinker apostrophizes the violinist, stating to the widow at the same time the advantages which she might expect from an alliance with himself:- "despise that shrimp, that withered imp, wi' a' his noise and caperin'; and take a share with those that bear the budget and the apron! "and by that stowp, my faith an' houpe, an' by that dear kilbaigie! if e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, may i ne'er weet my craigie." cruikshank's caird is a noble creature; his face and figure show him to be fully capable of doing and saying all that is above written of him. in the second part, the old tale of "the three hunchbacked fiddlers" is illustrated with equal felicity. the famous classical dinners and duel in "peregrine pickle" are also excellent in their way; and the connoisseur of prints and etchings may see in the latter plate, and in another in this volume, how great the artist's mechanical skill is as an etcher. the distant view of the city in the duel, and of a market-place in "the quack doctor," are delightful specimens of the artist's skill in depicting buildings and backgrounds. they are touched with a grace, truth, and dexterity of workmanship that leave nothing to desire. we have before mentioned the man with the mouth, which appears in this number emblematical of gout and indigestion, in which the artist has shown all the fancy of callot. little demons, with long saws for noses, are making dreadful incisions into the toes of the unhappy sufferer; some are bringing pans of hot coals to keep the wounded member warm; a huge, solemn nightmare sits on the invalid's chest, staring solemnly into his eyes; a monster, with a pair of drumsticks, is banging a devil's tattoo on his forehead; and a pair of imps are nailing great tenpenny nails into his hands to make his happiness complete. the late mr. clark's excellent work, "three courses and a dessert," was published at a time when the rage for comic stories was not so great as it since has been, and messrs. clark and cruikshank only sold their hundreds where messrs. dickens and phiz dispose of their thousands. but if our recommendation can in any way influence the reader, we would enjoin him to have a copy of the "three courses," that contains some of the best designs of our artist, and some of the most amusing tales in our language. the invention of the pictures, for which mr. clark takes credit to himself, says a great deal for his wit and fancy. can we, for instance, praise too highly the man who invented that wonderful oyster? examine him well; his beard, his pearl, his little round stomach, and his sweet smile. only oysters know how to smile in this way; cool, gentle, waggish, and yet inexpressibly innocent and winning. dando himself must have allowed such an artless native to go free, and consigned him to the glassy, cool, translucent wave again. in writing upon such subjects as these with which we have been furnished, it can hardly be expected that we should follow any fixed plan and order--we must therefore take such advantage as we may, and seize upon our subject when and wherever we can lay hold of him. for jews, sailors, irishmen, hessian boots, little boys, beadles, policemen, tall life-guardsmen, charity children, pumps, dustmen, very short pantaloons, dandies in spectacles, and ladies with aquiline noses, remarkably taper waists, and wonderfully long ringlets, mr. cruikshank has a special predilection. the tribe of israelites he has studied with amazing gusto; witness the jew in mr. ainsworth's "jack sheppard," and the immortal fagin of "oliver twist." whereabouts lies the comic vis in these persons and things? why should a beadle be comic, and his opposite a charity boy? why should a tall life-guardsman have something in him essentially absurd? why are short breeches more ridiculous than long? what is there particularly jocose about a pump, and wherefore does a long nose always provoke the beholder to laughter? these points may be metaphysically elucidated by those who list. it is probable that mr. cruikshank could not give an accurate definition of that which is ridiculous in these objects, but his instinct has told him that fun lurks in them, and cold must be the heart that can pass by the pantaloons of his charity boys, the hessian boots of his dandies, and the fan-tail hats of his dustmen, without respectful wonder. he has made a complete little gallery of dustmen. there is, in the first place, the professional dustman, who, having in the enthusiastic exercise of his delightful trade, laid hands upon property not strictly his own, is pursued, we presume, by the right owner, from whom he flies as fast as his crooked shanks will carry him. what a curious picture it is--the horrid rickety houses in some dingy suburb of london, the grinning cobbler, the smothered butcher, the very trees which are covered with dust--it is fine to look at the different expressions of the two interesting fugitives. the fiery charioteer who belabors the poor donkey has still a glance for his brother on foot, on whom punishment is about to descend. and not a little curious is it to think of the creative power of the man who has arranged this little tale of low life. how logically it is conducted, how cleverly each one of the accessories is made to contribute to the effect of the whole. what a deal of thought and humor has the artist expended on this little block of wood; a large picture might have been painted out of the very same materials, which mr. cruikshank, out of his wondrous fund of merriment and observation, can afford to throw away upon a drawing not two inches long. from the practical dustmen we pass to those purely poetical. there are three of them who rise on clouds of their own raising, the very genii of the sack and shovel. is there no one to write a sonnet to these?--and yet a whole poem was written about peter bell the wagoner, a character by no means so poetic. and lastly, we have the dustman in love: the honest fellow having seen a young beauty stepping out of a gin-shop on a sunday morning, is pressing eagerly his suit. gin has furnished many subjects to mr. cruikshank, who labors in his own sound and hearty way to teach his countrymen the dangers of that drink. in the "sketch-book" is a plate upon the subject, remarkable for fancy and beauty of design; it is called the "gin juggernaut," and represents a hideous moving palace, with a reeking still at the roof and vast gin-barrels for wheels, under which unhappy millions are crushed to death. an immense black cloud of desolation covers over the country through which the gin monster has passed, dimly looming through the darkness whereof you see an agreeable prospect of gibbets with men dangling, burnt houses, &c. the vast cloud comes sweeping on in the wake of this horrible body-crusher; and you see, by way of contrast, a distant, smiling, sunshiny tract of old english country, where gin as yet is not known. the allegory is as good, as earnest, and as fanciful as one of john bunyan's, and we have often fancied there was a similarity between the men. the render will examine the work called "my sketch-book" with not a little amusement, and may gather from it, as we fancy, a good deal of information regarding the character of the individual man, george cruikshank: what points strike his eye as a painter; what move his anger or admiration as a moralist; what classes he seems most especially disposed to observe, and what to ridicule. there are quacks of all kinds, to whom he has a mortal hatred; quack dandies, who assume under his pencil, perhaps in his eye, the most grotesque appearance possible--their hats grow larger, their legs infinitely more crooked and lean; the tassels of their canes swell out to a most preposterous size; the tails of their coats dwindle away, and finish where coat-tails generally begin. let us lay a wager that cruikshank, a man of the people if ever there was one, heartily hates and despises these supercilious, swaggering young gentlemen; and his contempt is not a whit the less laudable because there may be tant soit peu of prejudice in it. it is right and wholesome to scorn dandies, as nelson said it was to hate frenchmen; in which sentiment (as we have before said) george cruikshank undoubtedly shares. in the "sunday in london,"* monsieur the chef is instructing a kitchen-maid how to compound some rascally french kickshaw or the other--a pretty scoundrel truly! with what an air he wears that nightcap of his, and shrugs his lank shoulders, and chatters, and ogles, and grins: they are all the same, these mounseers; there are other two fellows--morbleu! one is putting his dirty fingers into the saucepan; there are frogs cooking in it, no doubt; and just over some other dish of abomination, another dirty rascal is taking snuff! never mind, the sauce won't be hurt by a few ingredients more or less. three such fellows as these are not worth one englishman, that's clear. there is one in the very midst of them, the great burly fellow with the beef: he could beat all three in five minutes. we cannot be certain that such was the process going on in mr. cruikshank's mind when he made the design; but some feelings of the sort were no doubt entertained by him. * the following lines--ever fresh--by the author of "headlong hall," published years ago in the globe and traveller, are an excellent comment on several of the cuts from the "sunday in london:"- i. "the poor man's sins are glaring; in the face of ghostly warning he is caught in the fact of an overt act, buying greens on sunday morning. ii. "the rich man's sins are hidden in the pomp of wealth and station, and escape the sight of the children of light, who are wise in their generation. iii. "the rich man has a kitchen, and cooks to dress his dinner; the poor who would roast, to the baker's must post, and thus becomes a sinner. iv. "the rich man's painted windows hide the concerts of the quality; the poor can but share a crack'd fiddle in the air, which offends all sound morality. v. "the rich man has a cellar, and a ready butler by him; the poor must steer for his pint of beer where the saint can't choose but spy him. vi. "this rich man is invisible in the crowd of his gay society; but the poor man's delight is a sore in the sight and a stench in the nose of piety." against dandy footmen he is particularly severe. he hates idlers, pretenders, boasters, and punishes these fellows as best he may. who does not recollect the famous picture, "what is taxes, thomas?" what is taxes indeed; well may that vast, over-fed, lounging flunky ask the question of his associate thomas: and yet not well, for all that thomas says in reply is, "i don't know." "o beati plushicolae," what a charming state of ignorance is yours! in the "sketch-book" many footmen make their appearance: one is a huge fat hercules of a portman square porter, who calmly surveys another poor fellow, a porter likewise, but out of livery, who comes staggering forward with a box that hercules might lift with his little finger. will hercules do so? not he. the giant can carry nothing heavier than a cocked-hat note on a silver tray, and his labors are to walk from his sentry-box to the door, and from the door back to his sentry-box, and to read the sunday paper, and to poke the hall fire twice or thrice, and to make five meals a day. such a fellow does cruikshank hate and scorn worse even than a frenchman. the man's master, too, comes in for no small share of our artist's wrath. there is a company of them at church, who humbly designate themselves "miserable sinners!" miserable sinners indeed! oh, what floods of turtle-soup, what tons of turbot and lobster-sauce must have been sacrificed to make those sinners properly miserable. my lady with the ermine tippet and draggling feather, can we not see that she lives in portland place, and is the wife of an east india director? she has been to the opera over-night (indeed her husband, on her right, with his fat hand dangling over the pew-door, is at this minute thinking of mademoiselle leocadie, whom he saw behind the scenes)--she has been at the opera over-night, which with a trifle of supper afterwards--a white-and-brown soup, a lobster-salad, some woodcocks, and a little champagne--sent her to bed quite comfortable. at half-past eight her maid brings her chocolate in bed, at ten she has fresh eggs and muffins, with, perhaps, a half-hundred of prawns for breakfast, and so can get over the day and the sermon till lunch-time pretty well. what an odor of musk and bergamot exhales from the pew!--how it is wadded, and stuffed, and spangled over with brass nails! what hassocks are there for those who are not too fat to kneel! what a flustering and flapping of gilt prayer-books; and what a pious whirring of bible leaves one hears all over the church, as the doctor blandly gives out the text! to be miserable at this rate you must, at the very least, have four thousand a year: and many persons are there so enamored of grief and sin, that they would willingly take the risk of the misery to have a life-interest in the consols that accompany it, quite careless about consequences, and sceptical as to the notion that a day is at hand when you must fulfil your share of the bargain. our artist loves to joke at a soldier; in whose livery there appears to him to be something almost as ridiculous as in the uniform of the gentleman of the shoulder-knot. tall life-guardsmen and fierce grenadiers figure in many of his designs, and almost always in a ridiculous way. here again we have the honest popular english feeling which jeers at pomp or pretension of all kinds, and is especially jealous of all display of military authority. "raw recruit," "ditto dressed," ditto "served up," as we see them in the "sketch-book," are so many satires upon the army: hodge with his ribbons flaunting in his hat, or with red coat and musket, drilled stiff and pompous, or at last, minus leg and arm, tottering about on crutches, does not fill our english artist with the enthusiasm that follows the soldier in every other part of europe. jeanjean, the conscript in france, is laughed at to be sure, but then it is because he is a bad soldier: when he comes to have a huge pair of mustachios and the croix-d'honneur to briller on his poitrine cicatrisee, jeanjean becomes a member of a class that is more respected than any other in the french nation. the veteran soldier inspires our people with no such awe--we hold that democratic weapon the fist in much more honor than the sabre and bayonet, and laugh at a man tricked out in scarlet and pipe-clay. that regiment of heroes is "marching to divine service," to the tune of the "british grenadiers." there they march in state, and a pretty contempt our artist shows for all their gimcracks and trumpery. he has drawn a perfectly english scene--the little blackguard boys are playing pranks round about the men, and shouting, "heads up, soldier," "eyes right, lobster," as little british urchins will do. did one ever hear the like sentiments expressed in france? shade of napoleon, we insult you by asking the question. in england, however, see how different the case is: and designedly or undesignedly, the artist has opened to us a piece of his mind. in the crowd the only person who admires the soldiers is the poor idiot, whose pocket a rogue is picking. there is another picture, in which the sentiment is much the same, only, as in the former drawing we see englishmen laughing at the troops of the line, here are irishmen giggling at the militia. we have said that our artist has a great love for the drolleries of the green island. would any one doubt what was the country of the merry fellows depicted in his group of paddies? "place me amid o'rourkes, o'tooles, the ragged royal race of tara; or place me where dick martin rules the pathless wilds of connemara." we know not if mr. cruikshank has ever had any such good luck as to see the irish in ireland itself, but he certainly has obtained a knowledge of their looks, as if the country had been all his life familiar to him. could mr. o'connell himself desire anything more national than the scene of a drunken row, or could father mathew have a better text to preach upon? there is not a broken nose in the room that is not thoroughly irish. we have then a couple of compositions treated in a graver manner, as characteristic too as the other. we call attention to the comical look of poor teague, who has been pursued and beaten by the witch's stick, in order to point out also the singular neatness of the workmanship, and the pretty, fanciful little glimpse of landscape that the artist has introduced in the background. mr. cruikshank has a fine eye for such homely landscapes, and renders them with great delicacy and taste. old villages, farm-yards, groups of stacks, queer chimneys, churches, gable-ended cottages, elizabethan mansion-houses, and other old english scenes, he depicts with evident enthusiasm. famous books in their day were cruikshank's "john gilpin" and "epping hunt;" for though our artist does not draw horses very scientifically,--to use a phrase of the atelier,--he feels them very keenly; and his queer animals, after one is used to them, answer quite as well as better. neither is he very happy in trees, and such rustical produce; or, rather, we should say, he is very original, his trees being decidedly of his own make and composition, not imitated from any master. but what then? can a man be supposed to imitate everything? we know what the noblest study of mankind is, and to this mr. cruikshank has confined himself. that postilion with the people in the broken-down chaise roaring after him is as deaf as the post by which he passes. suppose all the accessories were away, could not one swear that the man was stone-deaf, beyond the reach of trumpet? what is the peculiar character in a deaf man's physiognomy?--can any person define it satisfactorily in words?--not in pages; and mr. cruikshank has expressed it on a piece of paper not so big as the tenth part of your thumb-nail. the horses of john gilpin are much more of the equestrian order; and as here the artist has only his favorite suburban buildings to draw, not a word is to be said against his design. the inn and old buildings are charmingly designed, and nothing can be more prettily or playfully touched. "at edmonton his loving wife from the balcony spied her tender husband, wond'ring much to see how he did ride. "'stop, stop, john gilpin! here's the house!' they all at once did cry; 'the dinner waits, and we are tired--' said gilpin--'so am i!' "six gentlemen upon the road thus seeing gilpin fly, with post-boy scamp'ring in the rear, they raised the hue and cry:- "'stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!' not one of them was mute; and all and each that passed that way did join in the pursuit. "and now the turnpike gates again flew open in short space; the toll-men thinking, as before, that gilpin rode a race." the rush, and shouting, and clatter are excellently depicted by the artist; and we, who have been scoffing at his manner of designing animals, must here make a special exception in favor of the hens and chickens; each has a different action, and is curiously natural. happy are children of all ages who have such a ballad and such pictures as this in store for them! it is a comfort to think that woodcuts never wear out, and that the book still may be had for a shilling, for those who can command that sum of money. in the "epping hunt," which we owe to the facetious pen of mr. hood, our artist has not been so successful. there is here too much horsemanship and not enough incident for him; but the portrait of roundings the huntsman is an excellent sketch, and a couple of the designs contain great humor. the first represents the cockney hero, who, "like a bird, was singing out while sitting on a tree." and in the second the natural order is reversed. the stag having taken heart, is hunting the huntsman, and the cheapside nimrod is most ignominiously running away. the easter hunt, we are told, is no more; and as the quarterly review recommends the british public to purchase mr. catlin's pictures, as they form the only record of an interesting race now rapidly passing away, in like manner we should exhort all our friends to purchase mr. cruikshank's designs of another interesting race, that is run already and for the last time. besides these, we must mention, in the line of our duty, the notable tragedies of "tom thumb" and "bombastes furioso," both of which have appeared with many illustrations by mr. cruikshank. the "brave army" of bombastes exhibits a terrific display of brutal force, which must shock the sensibilities of an english radical. and we can well understand the caution of the general, who bids this soldatesque effrenee to begone, and not to kick up a row. such a troop of lawless ruffians let loose upon a populous city would play sad havoc in it; and we fancy the massacres of birmingham renewed, or at least of badajoz, which, though not quite so dreadful, if we may believe his grace the duke of wellington, as the former scenes of slaughter, were nevertheless severe enough: but we must not venture upon any ill-timed pleasantries in presence of the disturbed king arthur and the awful ghost of gaffer thumb. we are thus carried at once into the supernatural, and here we find cruikshank reigning supreme. he has invented in his time a little comic pandemonium, peopled with the most droll, good-natured fiends possible. we have before us chamisso's "peter schlemihl," with cruikshank's designs translated into german, and gaining nothing by the change. the "kinder und hans-maerchen" of grimm are likewise ornamented with a frontispiece copied from that one which appeared to the amusing version of the english work. the books on phrenology and time have been imitated by the same nation; and even in france, whither reputation travels slower than to any country except china, we have seen copies of the works of george cruikshank. he in return has complimented the french by illustrating a couple of lives of napoleon, and the "life in paris" before mentioned. he has also made designs for victor hugo's "hans of iceland." strange, wild etchings were those, on a strange, mad subject; not so good in our notion as the designs for the german books, the peculiar humor of which latter seemed to suit the artist exactly. there is a mixture of the awful and the ridiculous in these, which perpetually excites and keeps awake the reader's attention; the german writer and the english artist seem to have an entire faith in their subject. the reader, no doubt, remembers the awful passage in "peter schlemihl," where the little gentleman purchases the shadow of that hero--"have the kindness, noble sir, to examine and try this bag." "he put his hand into his pocket, and drew thence a tolerably large bag of cordovan leather, to which a couple of thongs were fixed. i took it from him, and immediately counted out ten gold pieces, and ten more, and ten more, and still other ten, whereupon i held out my hand to him. done, said i, it is a bargain; you shall have my shadow for your bag. the bargain was concluded; he knelt down before me, and i saw him with a wonderful neatness take my shadow from head to foot, lightly lift it up from the grass, roll and fold it up neatly, and at last pocket it. he then rose up, bowed to me once more, and walked away again, disappearing behind the rose bushes. i don't know, but i thought i heard him laughing a little. i, however, kept fast hold of the bag. everything around me was bright in the sun, and as yet i gave no thought to what i had done." this marvellous event, narrated by peter with such a faithful, circumstantial detail, is painted by cruikshank in the most wonderful poetic way, with that happy mixture of the real and supernatural that makes the narrative so curious, and like truth. the sun is shining with the utmost brilliancy in a great quiet park or garden; there is a palace in the background, and a statue basking in the sun quite lonely and melancholy; there is a sun-dial, on which is a deep shadow, and in the front stands peter schlemihl, bag in hand: the old gentleman is down on his knees to him, and has just lifted off the ground the shadow of one leg; he is going to fold it back neatly, as one does the tails of a coat, and will stow it, without any creases or crumples, along with the other black garments that lie in that immense pocket of his. cruikshank has designed all this as if he had a very serious belief in the story; he laughs, to be sure, but one fancies that he is a little frightened in his heart, in spite of all his fun and joking. the german tales we have mentioned before. "the prince riding on the fox," "hans in luck," "the fiddler and his goose," "heads off," are all drawings which, albeit not before us now, nor seen for ten years, remain indelibly fixed on the memory. "heisst du etwa rumpelstilzchen?" there sits the queen on her throne, surrounded by grinning beef-eaters, and little rumpelstiltskin stamps his foot through the floor in the excess of his tremendous despair. in one of these german tales, if we remember rightly, there is an account of a little orphan who is carried away by a pitying fairy for a term of seven years, and passing that period of sweet apprenticeship among the imps and sprites of fairy-land. has our artist been among the same company, and brought back their portraits in his sketch-book? he is the only designer fairy-land has had. callot's imps, for all their strangeness, are only of the earth earthy. fuseli's fairies belong to the infernal regions; they are monstrous, lurid, and hideously melancholy. mr. cruikshank alone has had a true insight into the character of the "little people." they are something like men and women, and yet not flesh and blood; they are laughing and mischievous, but why we know not. mr. cruikshank, however, has had some dream or the other, or else a natural mysterious instinct (as the seherinn of prevorst had for beholding ghosts), or else some preternatural fairy revelation, which has made him acquainted with the looks and ways of the fantastical subjects of oberon and titania. we have, unfortunately, no fairy portraits; but, on the other hand, can descend lower than fairy-land, and have seen some fine specimens of devils. one has already been raised, and the reader has seen him tempting a fat dutch burgomaster, in an ancient gloomy market-place, such as george cruikshank can draw as well as mr. prout, mr. nash, or any man living. there is our friend once more; our friend the burgomaster, in a highly excited state, and running as hard as his great legs will carry him, with our mutual enemy at his tail. what are the bets; will that long-legged bondholder of a devil come up with the honest dutchman? it serves him right: why did he put his name to stamped paper? and yet we should not wonder if some lucky chance should turn up in the burgomaster's favor, and his infernal creditor lose his labor; for one so proverbially cunning as yonder tall individual with the saucer eyes, it must be confessed that he has been very often outwitted. there is, for instance, the case of "the gentleman in black," which has been illustrated by our artist. a young french gentleman, by name m. desonge, who, having expended his patrimony in a variety of taverns and gaming-houses, was one day pondering upon the exhausted state of his finances, and utterly at a loss to think how he should provide means for future support, exclaimed, very naturally, "what the devil shall i do?" he had no sooner spoken than a gentleman in black made his appearance, whose authentic portrait mr. cruikshank has had the honor to paint. this gentleman produced a black-edged book out of a black bag, some black-edged papers tied up with black crape, and sitting down familiarly opposite m. desonge, began conversing with him on the state of his affairs. it is needless to state what was the result of the interview. m. desonge was induced by the gentleman to sign his name to one of the black-edged papers, and found himself at the close of the conversation to be possessed of an unlimited command of capital. this arrangement completed, the gentleman in black posted (in an extraordinarily rapid manner) from paris to london, there found a young english merchant in exactly the same situation in which m. desonge had been, and concluded a bargain with the briton of exactly the same nature. the book goes on to relate how these young men spent the money so miraculously handed over to them, and how both, when the period drew near that was to witness the performance of their part of the bargain, grew melancholy, wretched, nay, so absolutely dishonorable as to seek for every means of breaking through their agreement. the englishman living in a country where the lawyers are more astute than any other lawyers in the world, took the advice of a mr. bagsby, of lyon's inn; whose name, as we cannot find it in the "law list," we presume to be fictitious. who could it be that was a match for the devil? lord ---very likely; we shall not give his name, but let every reader of this review fill up the blank according to his own fancy, and on comparing it with the copy purchased by his neighbors, he will find that fifteen out of twenty have written down the same honored name. well, the gentleman in black was anxious for the fulfilment of his bond. the parties met at mr. bagsby's chambers to consult, the black gentleman foolishly thinking that he could act as his own counsel, and fearing no attorney alive. but mark the superiority of british law, and see how the black pettifogger was defeated. mr. bagsby simply stated that he would take the case into chancery, and his antagonist, utterly humiliated and defeated, refused to move a step farther in the matter. and now the french gentleman, m. desonge, hearing of his friend's escape, became anxious to be free from his own rash engagements. he employed the same counsel who had been successful in the former instance, but the gentleman in black was a great deal wiser by this time, and whether m. desonge escaped, or whether he is now in that extensive place which is paved with good intentions, we shall not say. those who are anxious to know had better purchase the book wherein all these interesting matters are duly set down. there is one more diabolical picture in our budget, engraved by mr. thompson, the same dexterous artist who has rendered the former diableries so well. we may mention mr. thompson's name as among the first of the engravers to whom cruikshank's designs have been entrusted; and next to him (if we may be allowed to make such arbitrary distinctions) we may place mr. williams; and the reader is not possibly aware of the immense difficulties to be overcome in the rendering of these little sketches, which, traced by the designer in a few hours, require weeks' labor from the engraver. mr. cruikshank has not been educated in the regular schools of drawing (very luckily for him, as we think), and consequently has had to make a manner for himself, which is quite unlike that of any other draftsman. there is nothing in the least mechanical about it; to produce his particular effects he uses his own particular lines, which are queer, free, fantastical, and must be followed in all their infinite twists and vagaries by the careful tool of the engraver. those three lovely heads, for instance, imagined out of the rinds of lemons, are worth examining, not so much for the jovial humor and wonderful variety of feature exhibited in these darling countenances as for the engraver's part of the work. see the infinite delicate cross-lines and hatchings which he is obliged to render; let him go, not a hair's breadth, but the hundredth part of a hair's breadth, beyond the given line, and the feeling of it is ruined. he receives these little dots and specks, and fantastical quirks of the pencil, and cuts away with a little knife round each, not too much nor too little. antonio's pound of flesh did not puzzle the jew so much; and so well does the engraver succeed at last, that we never remember to have met with a single artist who did not vow that the wood-cutter had utterly ruined his design. of messrs. thompson and williams we have spoken as the first engravers in point of rank; however, the regulations of professional precedence are certainly very difficult, and the rest of their brethren we shall not endeavor to class. why should the artists who executed the cuts of the admirable "three courses" yield the pas to any one? there, for instance, is an engraving by mr. landells, nearly as good in our opinion as the very best woodcut that ever was made after cruikshank, and curiously happy in rendering the artist's peculiar manner: this cut does not come from the facetious publications which we have consulted; but is a contribution by mr. cruikshank to an elaborate and splendid botanical work upon the orchidaceae of mexico, by mr. bateman. mr. bateman despatched some extremely choice roots of this valuable plant to a friend in england, who, on the arrival of the case, consigned it to his gardener to unpack. a great deal of anxiety with regard to the contents was manifested by all concerned, but on the lid of the box being removed, there issued from it three or four fine specimens of the enormous blatta beetle that had been preying upon the plants during the voyage; against these the gardeners, the grooms, the porters, and the porters' children, issued forth in arms, and this scene the artist has immortalized. we have spoken of the admirable way in which mr. cruikshank has depicted irish character and cockney character; english country character is quite as faithfully delineated in the person of the stout porteress and her children, and of the "chawbacon" with the shovel, on whose face is written "zummerzetsheer." chawbacon appears in another plate, or else chawbacon's brother. he has come up to lunnan, and is looking about him at raaces. how distinct are these rustics from those whom we have just been examining! they hang about the purlieus of the metropolis: brook green, epsom, greenwich, ascot, goodwood, are their haunts. they visit london professionally once a year, and that is at the time of bartholomew fair. how one may speculate upon the different degrees of rascality, as exhibited in each face of the thimblerigging trio, and form little histories for these worthies, charming newgate romances, such as have been of late the fashion! is any man so blind that he cannot see the exact face that is writhing under the thhnblerigged hero's hat? like timanthes of old, our artist expresses great passions without the aid of the human countenance. there is another specimen--a street row of inebriated bottles. is there any need of having a face after this? "come on!" says claret-bottle, a dashing, genteel fellow, with his hat on one ear--"come on! has any man a mind to tap me?" claret-bottle is a little screwed (as one may see by his legs), but full of gayety and courage; not so that stout, apoplectic bottle-of-rum, who has staggered against the wall, and has his hand upon his liver: the fellow hurts himself with smoking, that is clear, and is as sick as sick can be. see, port is making away from the storm, and double x is as flat as ditch-water. against these, awful in their white robes, the sober watchmen come. our artist then can cover up faces, and yet show them quite clearly, as in the thimblerig group; or he can do without faces altogether; or he can, at a pinch, provide a countenance for a gentleman out of any given object--a beautiful irish physiognomy being moulded upon a keg of whiskey; and a jolly english countenance frothing out of a pot of ale (the spirit of brave toby philpot come back to reanimate his clay); while in a fungus may be recognized the physiognomy of a mushroom peer. finally, if he is at a loss, he can make a living head, body, and legs out of steel or tortoise-shell, as in the case of the vivacious pair of spectacles that are jockeying the nose of caddy cuddle. of late years mr. cruikshank has busied himself very much with steel engraving, and the consequences of that lucky invention have been, that his plates are now sold by thousands, where they could only be produced by hundreds before. he has made many a bookseller's and author's fortune (we trust that in so doing he may not have neglected his own). twelve admirable plates, furnished yearly to that facetious little publication, the comic almanac, have gained for it a sale, as we hear, of nearly twenty thousand copies. the idea of the work was novel; there was, in the first number especially, a great deal of comic power, and cruikshank's designs were so admirable that the almanac at once became a vast favorite with the public, and has so remained ever since. besides the twelve plates, this almanac contains a prophetic woodcut, accompanying an awful blarneyhum astrologicum that appears in this and other almanacs. there is one that hints in pretty clear terms that with the reform of municipal corporations the ruin of the great lord mayor of london is at hand. his lordship is meekly going to dine at an eightpenny ordinary, his giants in pawn, his men in armor dwindled to "one poor knight," his carriage to be sold, his stalwart aldermen vanished, his sheriffs, alas! and alas! in gaol! another design shows that rigdum, if a true, is also a moral and instructive prophet. john bull is asleep, or rather in a vision; the cunning demon, speculation, blowing a thousand bright bubbles about him. meanwhile the rooks are busy at his fob, a knave has cut a cruel hole in his pocket, a rattlesnake has coiled safe round his feet, and will in a trice swallow bull, chair, money and all; the rats are at his corn-bags (as if, poor devil, he had corn to spare); his faithful dog is bolting his leg-of-mutton--nay, a thief has gotten hold of his very candle, and there, by way of moral, is his ale-pot, which looks and winks in his face, and seems to say, o bull, all this is froth, and a cruel satirical picture of a certain rustic who had a goose that laid certain golden eggs, which goose the rustic slew in expectation of finding all the eggs at once. this is goose and sage too, to borrow the pun of "learned doctor gill;" but we shrewdly suspect that mr. cruikshank is becoming a little conservative in his notions. we love these pictures so that it is hard to part us, and we still fondly endeavor to hold on, but this wild word, farewell, must be spoken by the best friends at last, and so good-by, brave woodcuts: we feel quite a sadness in coming to the last of our collection. in the earlier numbers of the comic almanac all the manners and customs of londoners that would afford food for fun were noted down; and if during the last two years the mysterious personage who, under the title of "rigdum funnidos," compiles this ephemeris, has been compelled to resort to romantic tales, we must suppose that he did so because the great metropolis was exhausted, and it was necessary to discover new worlds in the cloud-land of fancy. the character of mr. stubbs, who made his appearance in the almanac for 1839, had, we think, great merit, although his adventures were somewhat of too tragical a description to provoke pure laughter. we should be glad to devote a few pages to the "illustrations of time," the "scraps and sketches," and the "illustrations of phrenology," which are among the most famous of our artist's publications; but it is very difficult to find new terms of praise, as find them one must, when reviewing mr. cruikshank's publications, and more difficult still (as the reader of this notice will no doubt have perceived for himself long since) to translate his design into words, and go to the printer's box for a description of all that fun and humor which the artist can produce by a few skilful turns of his needle. a famous article upon the "illustrations of time" appeared some dozen years since in blackwood's magazine, of which the conductors have always been great admirers of our artist, as became men of honor and genius. to these grand qualities do not let it be supposed that we are laying claim, but, thank heaven, cruikshank's humor is so good and benevolent that any man must love it, and on this score we may speak as well as another. then there are the "greenwich hospital" designs, which must not be passed over. "greenwich hospital" is a hearty, good-natured book, in the tom dibdin school, treating of the virtues of british tars, in approved nautical language. they maul frenchmen and spaniards, they go out in brigs and take frigates, they relieve women in distress, and are yard-arm and yard-arming, athwart-hawsing, marlinspiking, binnacling, and helm's-a-leeing, as honest seamen invariably do, in novels, on the stage, and doubtless on board ship. this we cannot take upon us to say, but the artist, like a true englishman, as he is, loves dearly these brave guardians of old england, and chronicles their rare or fanciful exploits with the greatest good-will. let any one look at the noble head of nelson in the "family library," and they will, we are sure, think with us that the designer must have felt and loved what he drew. there are to this abridgment of southey's admirable book many more cuts after cruikshank; and about a dozen pieces by the same hand will be found in a work equally popular, lockhart's excellent "life of napoleon." among these the retreat from moscow is very fine; the mamlouks most vigorous, furious, and barbarous, as they should be. at the end of these three volumes mr. cruikshank's contributions to the "family library" seem suddenly to have ceased. we are not at all disposed to undervalue the works and genius of mr. dickens, and we are sure that he would admit as readily as any man the wonderful assistance that he has derived from the artist who has given us the portraits of his ideal personages, and made them familiar to all the world. once seen, these figures remain impressed on the memory, which otherwise would have had no hold upon them, and the heroes and heroines of boz become personal acquaintances with each of us. oh, that hogarth could have illustrated fielding in the same way! and fixed down on paper those grand figures of parson adams, and squire allworthy, and the great jonathan wild. with regard to the modern romance of "jack sheppard," in which the latter personage makes a second appearance, it seems to us that mr. cruikshank really created the tale, and that mr. ainsworth, as it were, only put words to it. let any reader of the novel think over it for a while, now that it is some months since he has perused and laid it down--let him think, and tell us what he remembers of the tale? george cruikshank's pictures--always george cruikshank's pictures. the storm in the thames, for instance: all the author's labored description of that event has passed clean away--we have only before the mind's eye the fine plates of cruikshank: the poor wretch cowering under the bridge arch, as the waves come rushing in, and the boats are whirling away in the drift of the great swollen black waters. and let any man look at that second plate of the murder on the thames, and he must acknowledge how much more brilliant the artist's description is than the writer's, and what a real genius for the terrible as well as for the ridiculous the former has; how awful is the gloom of the old bridge, a few lights glimmering from the houses here and there, but not so as to be reflected on the water at all, which is too turbid and raging: a great heavy rack of clouds goes sweeping over the bridge, and men with flaring torches, the murderers, are borne away with the stream. the author requires many pages to describe the fury of the storm, which mr. cruikshank has represented in one. first, he has to prepare you with the something inexpressibly melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the thames: "the ripple of the water," "the darkling current," "the indistinctively seen craft," "the solemn shadows" and other phenomena visible on rivers at night are detailed (with not unskilful rhetoric) in order to bring the reader into a proper frame of mind for the deeper gloom and horror which is to ensue. then follow pages of description. "as rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a war like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. a moment before the surface of the stream was as black as ink. it was now whitening, hissing, and seething, like an enormous caldron. the blast once more swept over the agitated river, whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. destruction everywhere marked the course of the gale. steeples toppled and towers reeled beneath its fury. all was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. men fled from their tottering habitations and returned to them, scared by greater danger. the end of the world seemed at hand. . . . the hurricane had now reached its climax. the blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. he who had faced the gale would have been instantly stifled," &c. &c. see with what a tremendous war of words (and good loud words too; mr. ainsworth's description is a good and spirited one) the author is obliged to pour in upon the reader before he can effect his purpose upon the latter, and inspire him with a proper terror. the painter does it at a glance, and old wood's dilemma in the midst of that tremendous storm, with the little infant at his bosom, is remembered afterwards, not from the words, but from the visible image of them that the artist has left us. it would not, perhaps, be out of place to glance through the whole of the "jack sheppard" plates, which are among the most finished and the most successful of mr. cruikshank's performances, and say a word or two concerning them. let us begin with finding fault with no. 1, "mr. wood offers to adopt little jack sheppard." a poor print, on a poor subject; the figure of the woman not as carefully designed as it might be, and the expression of the eyes (not an uncommon fault with our artist) much caricatured. the print is cut up, to use the artist's phrase, by the number of accessories which the engraver has thought proper, after the author's elaborate description, elaborately to reproduce. the plate of "wild discovering darrell in the loft" is admirable--ghastly, terrible, and the treatment of it extraordinarily skilful, minute, and bold. the intricacies of the tile-work, and the mysterious twinkling of light among the beams, are excellently felt and rendered; and one sees here, as in the two next plates of the storm and murder, what a fine eye the artist has, what a skilful hand, and what a sympathy for the wild and dreadful. as a mere imitation of nature, the clouds and the bridge in the murder picture may be examined by painters who make far higher pretensions than mr. cruikshank. in point of workmanship they are equally good, the manner quite unaffected, the effect produced without any violent contrast, the whole scene evidently well and philosophically arranged in the artist's brain, before he began to put it upon copper. the famous drawing of "jack carving the name on the beam," which has been transferred to half the play-bills in town, is overloaded with accessories, as the first plate; but they are much better arranged than in the last-named engraving, and do not injure the effect of the principal figure. remark, too, the conscientiousness of the artist, and that shrewd pervading idea of form which is one of his principal characteristics. jack is surrounded by all sorts of implements of his profession; he stands on a regular carpenter's table: away in the shadow under it lie shavings and a couple of carpenter's hampers. the glue-pot, the mallet, the chisel-handle, the planes, the saws, the hone with its cover, and the other paraphernalia are all represented with extraordinary accuracy and forethought. the man's mind has retained the exact drawing of all these minute objects (unconsciously perhaps to himself), but we can see with what keen eyes he must go through the world, and what a fund of facts (as such a knowledge of the shape of objects is in his profession) this keen student of nature has stored away in his brain. in the next plate, where jack is escaping from his mistress, the figure of that lady, one of the deepest of the [greek text omitted], strikes us as disagreeable and unrefined; that of winifred is, on the contrary, very pretty and graceful; and jack's puzzled, slinking look must not be forgotten. all the accessories are good, and the apartment has a snug, cosy air; which is not remarkable, except that it shows how faithfully the designer has performed his work, and how curiously he has entered into all the particulars of the subject. master thames darrell, the handsome young man of the book, is, in mr. cruikshank's portraits of him, no favorite of ours. the lad seems to wish to make up for the natural insignificance of his face by frowning on all occasions most portentously. this figure, borrowed from the compositor's desk, will give a notion of what we mean. wild's face is too violent for the great man of history (if we may call fielding history), but this is in consonance with the ranting, frowning, braggadocio character that mr. ainsworth has given him. the "interior of willesden church" is excellent as a composition, and a piece of artistical workmanship; the groups are well arranged; and the figure of mrs. sheppard looking round alarmed, as her son is robbing the dandy kneebone, is charming, simple, and unaffected. not so "mrs. sheppard ill in bed," whose face is screwed up to an expression vastly too tragic. the little glimpse of the church seen through the open door of the room is very beautiful and poetical: it is in such small hints that an artist especially excels; they are the morals which he loves to append to his stories, and are always appropriate and welcome. the boozing ken is not to our liking; mrs. sheppard is there with her horrified eyebrows again. why this exaggeration--is it necessary for the public? we think not, or if they require such excitement, let our artist, like a true painter as he is, teach them better things.* * a gentleman (whose wit is so celebrated that one should be very cautious in repeating his stories) gave the writer a good illustration of the philosophy of exaggeration. mr. - -was once behind the scenes at the opera when the scene shifters were preparing for the ballet. flora was to sleep under a bush, whereon were growing a number of roses, and amidst which was fluttering a gay covey of butterflies. in size the roses exceeded the most expansive sunflowers, and the butterflies were as large as cocked hats;--the scene -shifter explained to mr. ----, who asked the reason why everything was so magnified, that the galleries could never see the objects unless they were enormously exaggerated. how many of our writers and designers work for the galleries? the "escape from willesden cage" is excellent; the "burglary in wood's house" has not less merit; "mrs. sheppard in bedlam," a ghastly picture indeed, is finely conceived, but not, as we fancy, so carefully executed; it would be better for a little more careful drawing in the female figure. "jack sitting for his picture" is a very pleasing group, and savors of the manner of hogarth, who is introduced in the company. the "murder of trenchard" must be noticed too as remarkable for the effect and terrible vigor which the artist has given to the scene. the "willesden churchyard" has great merit too, but the gems of the book are the little vignettes illustrating the escape from newgate. here, too, much anatomical care of drawing is not required; the figures are so small that the outline and attitude need only to be indicated, and the designer has produced a series of figures quite remarkable for reality and poetry too. there are no less than ten of jack's feats so described by mr. cruikshank. (let us say a word here in praise of the excellent manner in which the author has carried us through the adventure.) here is jack clattering up the chimney, now peering into the lonely red room, now opening "the door between the red room and the chapel." what a wild, fierce, scared look he has, the young ruffian, as cautiously he steps in, holding light his bar of iron. you can see by his face how his heart is beating! if any one were there! but no! and this is a very fine characteristic of the prints, the extreme loneliness of them all. not a soul is there to disturb him--woe to him who should--and jack drives in the chapel gate, and shatters down the passage door, and there you have him on the leads. up he goes! it is but a spring of a few feet from the blanket, and he is gone--abiit, evasit, erupit! mr. wild must catch him again if he can. we must not forget to mention "oliver twist," and mr. cruikshank's famous designs to that work.* the sausage scene at fagin's, nancy seizing the boy; that capital piece of humor, mr. bumble's courtship, which is even better in cruikshank's version than in boz's exquisite account of the interview; sykes's farewell to the dog; and the jew,--the dreadful jew--that cruikshank drew! what a fine touching picture of melancholy desolation is that of sykes and the dog! the poor cur is not too well drawn, the landscape is stiff and formal; but in this case the faults, if faults they be, of execution rather add to than diminish the effect of the picture: it has a strange, wild, dreary, broken -hearted look; we fancy we see the landscape as it must have appeared to sykes, when ghastly and with bloodshot eyes he looked at it. as for the jew in the dungeon, let us say nothing of it--what can we say to describe it? what a fine homely poet is the man who can produce this little world of mirth or woe for us! does he elaborate his effects by slow process of thought, or do they come to him by instinct? does the painter ever arrange in his brain an image so complete, that he afterwards can copy it exactly on the canvas, or does the hand work in spite of him? * or his new work, "the tower of london," which promises even to surpass mr. cruikshank's former productions. a great deal of this random work of course every artist has done in his time; many men produce effects of which they never dreamed, and strike off excellences, haphazard, which gain for them reputation; but a fine quality in mr. cruikshank, the quality of his success, as we have said before, is the extraordinary earnestness and good faith with which he executes all he attempts--the ludicrous, the polite, the low, the terrible. in the second of these he often, in our fancy, fails, his figures lacking elegance and descending to caricature; but there is something fine in this too: it is good that he should fail, that he should have these honest naive notions regarding the beau monde, the characteristics of which a namby-pamby tea-party painter could hit off far better than he. he is a great deal too downright and manly to appreciate the flimsy delicacies of small society--you cannot expect a lion to roar you like any sucking dove, or frisk about a drawing-room like a lady's little spaniel. if then, in the course of his life and business, he has been occasionally obliged to imitate the ways of such small animals, he has done so, let us say it at once, clumsily, and like as a lion should. many artists, we hear, hold his works rather cheap; they prate about bad drawing, want of scientific knowledge:--they would have something vastly more neat, regular, anatomical. not one of the whole band most likely but can paint an academy figure better than himself; nay, or a portrait of an alderman's lady and family of children. but look down the list of the painters and tell us who are they? how many among these men are poets (makers), possessing the faculty to create, the greatest among the gifts with which providence has endowed the mind of man? say how many there are, count up what they have done, and see what in the course of some nine-and-twenty years has been done by this indefatigable man. what amazing energetic fecundity do we find in him! as a boy he began to fight for bread, has been hungry (twice a day we trust) ever since, and has been obliged to sell his wit for his bread week by week. and his wit, sterling gold as it is, will find no such purchasers as the fashionable painter's thin pinchbeck, who can live comfortably for six weeks, when paid for and painting a portrait, and fancies his mind prodigiously occupied all the while. there was an artist in paris, an artist hairdresser, who used to be fatigued and take restoratives after inventing a new coiffure. by no such gentle operation of head-dressing has cruikshank lived: time was (we are told so in print) when for a picture with thirty heads in it he was paid three guineas--a poor week's pittance truly, and a dire week's labor. we make no doubt that the same labor would at present bring him twenty times the sum; but whether it be ill paid or well, what labor has mr. cruikshank's been! week by week, for thirty years, to produce something new; some smiling offspring of painful labor, quite independent and distinct from its ten thousand jovial brethren; in what hours of sorrow and ill-health to be told by the world, "make us laugh or you starve--give us fresh fun; we have eaten up the old and are hungry." and all this has he been obliged to do--to wring laughter day by day, sometimes, perhaps, out of want, often certainly from ill-health or depression--to keep the fire of his brain perpetually alight: for the greedy public will give it no leisure to cool. this he has done and done well. he has told a thousand truths in as many strange and fascinating ways; he has given a thousand new and pleasant thoughts to millions of people; he has never used his wit dishonestly; he has never, in all the exuberance of his frolicsome humor, caused a single painful or guilty blush: how little do we think of the extraordinary power of this man, and how ungrateful we are to him! here, as we are come round to the charge of ingratitude, the starting-post from which we set out, perhaps we had better conclude. the reader will perhaps wonder at the high-flown tone in which we speak of the services and merits of an individual, whom he considers a humble scraper on steel, that is wonderfully popular already. but none of us remember all the benefits we owe him; they have come one by one, one driving out the memory of the other: it is only when we come to examine them all together, as the writer has done, who has a pile of books on the table before him--a heap of personal kindnesses from george cruikshank (not presents, if you please, for we bought, borrowed, or stole every one of them)--that we feel what we owe him. look at one of mr. cruikshank's works, and we pronounce him an excellent humorist. look at all: his reputation is increased by a kind of geometrical progression; as a whole diamond is a hundred times more valuable than the hundred splinters into which it might be broken would be. a fine rough english diamond is this about which we have been writing. raemaekers' cartoon history of the war [illustration: louis raemaekers] raemaekers' cartoon history of the war compiled by j. murray allison editor of _raemaekers' cartoons_, _kultur in cartoons_, _the century edition de luxe raemaekers' cartoons_, _etc._ volume one the first twelve months of war new york the century co. 1918 copyright, 1918, by the century co. foreword in all the welter of the tragic upheaval which is shattering institutions once thought immutable, condemning millions to physical death and awakening other millions to spiritual life, making staggering discoveries of unexpected human strength or weakness, thrusting men into fame one day or to oblivion the next, there has been nothing more dramatic than the sudden manifestation of the genius of the dutchman, louis raemaekers, who, as europe recoiled from the first shock of german barbarity, threw down his brush for his pencil and by the intensity of his spirit aroused the compassion and fired the anger of the world with his cartoons of the belgian violation. he, more than any other individual, has made intensely clear to the people the single issue upon which the war is joined. more than cartoonist, he is teacher and preacher, with the vision, faith, and intensity of a st. francis, a luther, or a joan of arc. on august 1, 1914, we find him a quiet, gentle man, the son of a country editor, happy in his family, devout, contemplative, loving beauty and peace, contentedly painting the good and lovely things he saw among the tulip-fields and waterways, the cattle and the wind-mills of his own native holland before the gray-clad millions of the kaiser burst into the low countries with fire and sword. then comes the miracle of his transformation; the idyllic is thrust aside by the hideous reality; beauty is drowned in a bestial orgy of force; and in place of the passive painter arises the fiery preacher; the brush is discarded for the pencil, and the pencil in his hands becomes an avenging sword, because by it millions of people have been aroused to a clear-cut realization of the fact that the issue of this war is no less than slavery and autocracy versus freedom and democracy. the very first of his war cartoons indicated the prophetic vision of the man, and gave the first evidence of his inspiration and genius. it is called "christendom after twenty centuries" and shows a bowed and weeping figure crouching under the sword and lash. it was drawn on that fateful day august 1st, 1914. the intensity of emotion shown in this drawing revealed his power for the first time. to raemaekers himself it came as a vision and a summons. the landscape painter disappeared, and in his place arose a champion of civilization, throbbing with sublime rage and pity, clothed with authority, and invested with a weapon more powerful than the ruthlessness it indicts. when the stories of the belgian horror began to circulate in holland, raemaekers, like the rest of the humane world, refused to credit them. his own mother was german; he had spent many happy years in germany; he knew the german peasant as a kindly and happy, if rather stupid fellow; it was incredible that such men could have done the awful things alleged. but the tales persisted, and although the evidence of the wracked and broken refugees who poured into his country by tens of thousands seemed irrefutable, he could not believe it, and readily seized upon the common supposition that the terrible stories were the product of the imagination of an overwrought and panic-stricken people. at length he could remain in doubt no longer, and quietly slipped over the frontier to verify for himself the truth or falsehood of the accusations that had already made germany guilty of the foulest crimes ever perpetrated in the name of war since the dawn of civilization. what he actually saw with his own eyes he does not tell. but a hundred of his early cartoons bear witness to the burning impression made upon his soul. raemaekers, like others who have seen them, cannot speak of these unnamable horrors, but can only express his consuming pity or his white-hot rage in the medium that lies nearest his hand. on one occasion only has he publicly referred to his experiences in belgium. it was at a dinner given him by the artists and literary men of london at the savage club, where, pointing to the portraits and trophies of peary, scott, nansen, shackleton, and other explorers which hang on the walls, he said: "i, too, have been an explorer, gentlemen. i have explored a hell, and it was terror unspeakable." it did not take long for the high command in berlin to learn through its agents in holland of the impression that was being created in the public mind by raemaekers' cartoons. the publication of his first series of cartoons in the _amsterdam telegraaf_, reflecting the unspeakable horror of the atrocities in belgium and denouncing with burning scorn the kaiser and his infamous captains, gave such offense to the "all-highest" in potsdam that the german government offered twelve thousand guilders for his body dead or alive! further magnificent testimony to the hurt he inflicted on our common adversaries lies in the fact that the german government, not content with offering a reward for his body, induced the dutch government to prosecute him for endangering the neutrality of holland! he was actually tried on this charge, but although he had not spared the burghers and junkers of his own country for what he considered their criminal laxity in the matter of preparedness and their greed in aiding germany by the smuggling of foodstuffs, etc., across the frontier, the jury acquitted him and the court tacitly confirmed his right to express his opinions. it was after this that the _cologne gazette_ in an editorial addressed to the dutch people, obviously seeking to intimidate what its government could not suppress, said: "after the war germany will settle accounts with holland, and for each calumny, for each cartoon of raemaekers, she will demand payment with the interest that is her due." german wrath followed him further. his life was constantly endangered at the hands of german agents infesting holland, and he had to be always on his guard, especially during his periodical excursions into belgian territory occupied by the enemy. even before he crossed to england, his wife received anonymous letters warning her that any ship he might sail on would surely be torpedoed. as late as november, 1916, an exhibition of his cartoons in madrid was forbidden by the spanish government upon the insistence of the german embassy in that capital. it is significant to note that these attempted persecutions had an effect directly opposite to that intended. they not only failed to stop the publication of his cartoons but were largely instrumental in drawing the attention of the allies and neutrals to the great champion that had arisen. for eighteen months his cartoons had been appearing in the amsterdam _telegraaf_ without exciting a more than mild interest outside holland. american and british war-correspondents returning to london from amsterdam talked enthusiastically of the "great raemaekers" and a few stray cartoons appeared in the press of london and paris. but he was practically unknown outside of holland until christmas week in december, 1915, a year and a half after his first war-cartoon had appeared. a two-line advertisement announced his arrival in the british metropolis. "exhibition of war-cartoons by raemaekers, fine arts galleries, bond street, admission one shilling," was all it said. while londoners are generally interested in new artists, raemaekers appeared at an inopportune time. for one thing, the public had been rather surfeited with war-literature and war-pictures and the work of an unknown foreign artist was scarcely likely to attract them, and for another, it was within a few days of christmas, everybody was leaving london, and those who remained in town were bent on giving the troops and the war-sufferers as merry a time as possible. it was quite by chance that the art critic of the _london times_ visited the bond street galleries a day or so before christmas, and raemaekers' world-wide fame as it exists to-day may be said to date from the day that the _times_ in a two-column notice said, among other things, "this neutral is the only genius produced by the war." the campaign of publicity launched by the _times_ was taken up by the british and french press. the public flocked to view, and were stunned as they had never been before by the damning record. the cumulative effect of such pictures as "the shields of rosselaere," showing men, women, and children forced to march in front of the german armies, "men to the right, women to the left," in which women and children are being beaten with the butts of rifles; "the exodus from antwerp," "the mothers of belgium," "the widows of belgium," and others which revealed unimaginable depths of human agony, impressed the london crowd as by a solemn ritual. they saw with a vividness hitherto unapproached the hideousness of the war, the unequivocal brutality of the german method, and the naked, insatiable greed in the german purpose. not now could the timidest soul believe that germany was fighting a war of defense. here was the fact inescapable that civilization itself was threatened; here was the whole carnival of lust and conquest as mercilessly depicted on the faces of its agents as they themselves had trampled onward to their shocking goal. the exhibition was crowded daily for twenty weeks. from nine in the morning till six at night the galleries were packed with people of every grade of society. it is not too much to say that no oration, no literature, no art had brought the real meaning of the war home so convincingly to londoners as these cartoons. parents who had already given their sons, wives who had given husbands, were strengthened in their resignation and comforted in their sorrow; those who yet had the sacrifice to make were fortified in their resolve. as i have said, the cumulative effect of these hundred and fifty cartoons on the emotions of a people just awakening to and suffering from the desperate realities of the war was almost overwhelming, and many a man and woman quivered and cried under this pitiless revelation of the stupendous suffering that had been and was yet to be. the exhibition was carried from london to the principal english and scottish cities, and thence to paris. everywhere the story was the same. crowds flocked to see and heed the artist's fiery records; statesmen, soldiers, artists did him honor. in london he was received by the prime minister and the artistic and learned societies; in paris he was made a chevalier of the legion of honor and given a reception at the sorbonne--the highest purely intellectual honor that can be bestowed upon any man. france, equally with england, acclaimed him as the new champion of humanity. in the provincial cities of england, as in london, crowds thronged the galleries daily for weeks at a time. in liverpool alone five thousand persons visited the exhibition in one afternoon; birmingham, manchester, leeds, glasgow, edinburgh told the same story of the people being aroused and inspirited as though a new evangel had come to tell them that their cause was sacred and their sacrifice not vain. in a few months his genius was universally recognized and his position as the supreme cartoonist of the war firmly established. and now that he had the appreciation and the scope that were his due, he threw himself into his work with even greater ardor. he made recruiting posters for the army and navy; he depicted the shortage of shells and called on men and women to man the munition factories; he contributed posters to stimulate thrift and industry and contributions to the government funds; he worked for both the british and the french red cross, and for private and public charities innumerable; his pen never flagged. while the wrongs of belgium had been the first incentive to his genius, he now dealt with the war in all its later phases, and found subjects wherever the blight of kaiserism traveled--in france, russia, serbia, rumania, italy, and the far east; and in the zeppelin raids, the armenian massacres, the belgian and french deportations, the red cross outrages, and the submarine infamies. as a mere material record of industry, raemaekers' is probably unique in the world's history. since the beginning of the war he has drawn nearly 1000 cartoons. there is not a single phase of the war,--military, naval, or political,--that has not formed a basis for his artistic comment. some three hundred of the cartoons have been reproduced in facsimile form, and in that state have been exhibited in hundreds of cities throughout the world. in book form his work exists already in a dozen editions, from the sumptuous edition-de-luxe at one hundred dollars to the popular (british) edition at four cents. post-card editions of the cartoons run into many millions; his cartoons have been filmed, exist as lantern-slides, and leading actors and actresses have reproduced them in the form of tableaux. but it is in the world's press that the greatest distribution has taken place. he is cartoonist to half a hundred newspapers, and literally thousands of different publications have reproduced his pictures at one time or another. he has been translated into a score of languages, the writer having seen one edition in basque and another in arabic. in the united states alone his cartoons in one year have reached a newspaper circulation of over 300,000,000, and exhibitions have been held in over one hundred of the leading cities. and all this gigantic distribution has grown during the two years that have passed since his cartoons were first exhibited in london. it is a record that has never yet been equalled. what is the secret of this man's appeal to men and women in all stations of life, to people of every creed and nationality? in europe nearly all, and in america a great many, of the leading writers and thinkers have acclaimed the genius of raemaekers, but none have been able to tell us why it is that his pictures appeal with equal intensity to the briton, the latin, the slav, and the american. a writer in the _boston transcript_ perhaps comes nearest to the truth. he says: "the mantle of dante has fallen upon raemaekers; he leads the conscience of the world to-day through an inferno of wrong." this world-wide recognition is conclusive testimony to the universality of his genius. raemaekers appeals to all mankind. the value of his contribution to the cause of civilization in this war lies in the fact that he has seen and depicted with the directness and clarity of genius the truth that the issue is joined between the forces of evil and good. for him there are no other considerations, no qualifications, no compromises. he has but one enemy, and that is the destroyer of peace and civilization; he has but one hero, and that is the defender of them. he sees in war itself no pomp and glitter, but only the burning village, the devastated home, the agonized women and children, and the brave and faithful dead. he depicts militarism as hideous, brutal, coarse, and cunning. his one thought seems to be that those things which all kindly and gentle men and women hold dear and sacred are being trampled upon and threatened by a monstrous wrong; and that the ideals of justice, order, and human liberty which have been established in the conscience of humanity after centuries of painful struggle are in danger of annihilation. in thus narrowing the issue, in thus resolving all doubt, he has, in the words of theodore roosevelt, "rendered the most powerful of the honorable contributions by neutrals to the cause of civilization." raemaekers' name and work will live long after many of the men and their achievements in this war have faded from the general mind. future generations will look at his cartoons and will find in them at once the cause and the justification of the rising of the world's free peoples to give their lives for freedom and the safety of democracy. * * * * * the historical value of the cartoons have frequently been insisted upon by critics and reviewers and i have been urged to publish them in the form of a cartoon history of the war. the present attempt is the outcome of these suggestions. it has not been possible to adhere to any very definite method of arrangement. many of the cartoons were drawn long after the events with which they deal took place, as, for instance, the wittenberg pictures. the typhus outbreak amongst the prisoners at wittenberg happened in december, 1914, but the facts were not made public until may, 1916. on the other hand, the cartoon depicting count von bernstorff's dismissal from washington was published two years before he was handed his passports. it was a cartoon based upon the activities of dumba. a great number of cartoons, particularly those published during the early months of the war, have no direct historical significance. the belgian cartoons constitute a general indictment of the german method of warfare, while the nurse cavell drawings (vol. ii.) represent a specific comment upon an actual example of that method. the letterpress has been compiled mainly from official _communiques_ and reports, and from the speeches and public statements of the leading men of the belligerents and some of the neutrals. i have also quoted freely from newspapers, magazines, and books, and whenever possible i have made acknowledgment of these sources. my object has been not to explain the cartoons, but to show their great value as historical documents and to make sure, so far as is possible, that the basis of truth upon which they rest shall not be forgotten. j. murray allison. new york, christmas day, 1917. note on the belgian cartoons the cartoons which appear on the following pages up to and including page 86 call for special reference. they represent raemaekers' impression of the behaviour of the german troops in belgium during the first weeks of the invasion. the great majority of them were drawn long before any official reports were published, and not, as would seem natural, as illustrations of the reports which were eventually published by the belgian, french, and british governments. the cartoon on page 86 was drawn after the publication of the british government's official report. it is important to realise this. it is also necessary to remember that the german atrocities began actually at the moment that the german troops crossed the frontier on the evening of august 3rd and continued in unabated violence until the defeat at the marne. after the retreat of the germans from paris the german general staff appear to have altered its cold-blooded policy in belgium and france. from that moment, when the carefully prepared blow at the heart of france had failed and when the possibility of defeat began to dawn upon the potsdam mind, organised robbery, murder, arson and rape were discontinued or at least toned down as a feature of german warfare. whilst that method--the official reports of the allied governments' commissions of enquiry prove conclusively it was a method--continued, raemaekers concentrated his pencil upon it and neglected the strictly military and political happenings. that is why i have grouped the belgian cartoons at the beginning of this volume. they do really represent the first phase of the war. with regard to the extracts that i have selected to face the belgian cartoons i would ask the reader to remember that they have been taken largely from official reports issued after the drawings were published. raemaekers' pictorial indictment came first. he was justified later by the sworn evidence of eye-witnesses. i think perhaps that it is necessary to make these observations in case the letterpress facing the belgian cartoons should not in many cases be considered quite apt. j. m. a. * * * * * _christendom after twenty centuries_ raemaekers' first war cartoon, originally published on the first of august, 1914. [illustration: de menschheid na 20 eeuwen christendom] _the harvest is ripe_ on the evening of august 3 the german troops cross the frontier. the storm burst so suddenly that neither party had time to adjust its mind to the situation. the germans seem to have expected an easy passage. the belgian population, never dreaming of an attack, were startled and stupefied. from the very beginning of the operations the civilian population of the villages lying upon the line of the german advance were made to experience the extreme horrors of war. "on the 4th of august," says one witness, "at herve i saw at about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, near the station, five uhlans; these were the first german troops i had seen. they were followed by a german officer and some soldiers in a motor car. the men in the car called out to a couple of young fellows who were standing about thirty yards away. the young men, being afraid, ran off and then the germans fired and killed one of them named d." the murder of this innocent fugitive civilian was a prelude to the burning and pillage of herve and of other villages in the neighborhood, to the indiscriminate shooting of civilians of both sexes, and to the organized military execution of batches of selected males. _british government committee's report._ [illustration] _i crush whatever resists me_ the wrong--i speak openly--that we are committing we will endeavor to make good as soon as our military goal has been reached. anybody who is threatened as we are threatened, and is fighting for his highest possessions, can have only one thought--how is he to hack his way through. von bethmann-hollweg. _reichstag, august 4, 1915._ with a clear conscience germany goes to the battlefield. the kaiser, _august, 1914_. [illustration] "_this is how i deal with small fry_" we are now in a state of necessity, and necessity knows no law. our troops have occupied luxemburg and perhaps are already on belgian soil. _gentlemen, that is contrary to the dictates of international law._ it is true that the french government has declared at brussels that france is willing to respect the neutrality of belgium, so long as her opponent respects it. we knew, however, that france stood ready for invasion. france could wait, but we could not wait. a french movement upon our flank upon the lower rhine might have been disastrous. so we were compelled to override the just protest of the luxemburg and belgian governments. von bethmann-hollweg, _reichstag, berlin, 4th august, '14._ [illustration] _gott mitt uns_ remember that the german people are the chosen of god. on me, the german emperor, the spirit of god has descended. i am his sword, his weapon and his vicegerent. woe to the disobedient and death to cowards and unbelievers. _from_ the kaiser's _speech to his soldiers on the way to the front._ [illustration] _satan's partner_ _bernhardi: "war is as divine as eating and drinking"_ _satan: "here is a partner for me"_ the inevitableness, the idealism, the blessing of war as an indispensable and stimulating law of development must be repeatedly emphasized. ... war is the greatest factor in the furtherance of culture and power. efforts to secure peace are extraordinarily detrimental as soon as they influence politics. ... efforts directed toward the abolition of war are not only foolish, but absolutely immoral, and must be stigmatized as unworthy of the human race. ... in fact, the state is a law unto itself. weak nations have not the same right to live as powerful and vigorous nations. _"germany and the next war. 1911."_ gen. von bernhardi. [illustration] _mon fils. belgium, 1914_ "_ah! was your boy among the twelve this morning? then you'll find him among this lot_" when the german cavalry occupied the village of linsmeau not a man of the civilian population took part in the fighting. nevertheless the village was invaded at dusk on august 10 and all the male inhabitants were compelled to come forward and hand over whatever arms they possessed. no recently discharged firearms were found. the invaders divided these peasants in three groups, those in one were bound, and 11 of them placed in a ditch, where they were afterwards found dead. belgian gov. commission's report. [illustration] _the shields of rã�sselaere_ in a cafã©, lower down, near the canal, i saw a number of german soldiers, and was successful in having a chat with the inn-keeper, at the farthest corner of the bar. i asked, of course, what they meant by burning the village, and he told me that the germans had made a number of successful attacks on fort pontisse, until at last they had reduced it to silence. they were now so near that they could open the final assault. they were afraid, however, of some ambush, or underground mine, and the friday before they had collected the population, whom they forced to march in front of them. when they had got quite near they dared not enter it yet, and drove the priest and twelve of the principal villagers before them. "_the german fury in belgium_," by l. mokveld. [illustration] "_they shot her as a franc-tireur_" we ourselves regret deeply that during these fights the town of loewen has been destroyed to a great extent. needless to say that these consequences are not intentional on our part, but cannot be avoided in this infamous franc-tireur war being led against us. whoever knows the good-natured character of our troops cannot seriously pretend that they are inclined to needless or frivolous destruction. german general staff. _berlin, august, 1914._ [illustration] _aerschot and afterwards_ the german troops penetrated into aerschot, a town of 8,000 inhabitants, on wednesday, aug. 19, in the morning. no belgian forces remained behind. no sooner did the germans enter the town than they shot five or six inhabitants whom they caused to leave their houses. in the evening, pretending that a superior german officer had been killed on the grand place by the son of the burgomaster, or, according to another version of the story, that a conspiracy had been hatched against the superior commandant by the burgomaster and his family, the germans took every man who was inside of aerschot; they led them, fifty at a time, some distance from the town, grouped them in lines of four men, and, making them run ahead of them, shot them and killed them afterward with their bayonets. more than forty men were found thus massacred. belgian gov. commission's report. [illustration] _bernhardism_: "_it's all right. if i hadn't done it someone else might_" as regards private property, respect among german troops simply does not exist. by the universal testimony of every british officer and soldier i have interrogated the progress of the german troops is like a plague of locusts over the land. what they can not carry off they destroy. furniture is thrown into the street, pictures are riddled with bullets and pierced by sword cuts, municipal registers burnt, the contents of shops scattered on the floor, drawers rifled, live stock slaughtered and carcasses left to rot in the fields. cases of petty larceny by german soldiers appear to be innumerable; they take whatever seizes their fancy, and leave the towns they evacuate laden like pedlars. empty ammunition wagons were drawn up in front of private houses and filled with their contents for despatch to germany. i have had the reports of local commissions of police placed before me, and they show that in smaller villages like those of caestre and merris, with a population of about 1,500 souls or less, pillaging to the extent of â£4,000 and â£6,000 was committed by the german troops. professor j. h. morgan _in "german atrocities," an official investigation._ [illustration] _from liege to aix-la-chapelle_ [illustration] _spoils for the victors_ they sang, shouted and waved their arms. most of them carried bottles full of liquor, which they put into their mouths frequently, smashed them on the ground, or handed them to their comrades, when unable to drink any more themselves. each of a troop of cavalry had a bottle of pickles, and enjoyed them immensely. other soldiers kept on running into the burning houses, carrying out vases, pictures, plate, or small pieces of furniture. they smashed everything on the cobbles and then returned to wreck more things that would have been destroyed by the fire all the same. it was a revelry of drunken vandalism. they seemed mad, and even risking being burned alive at this work of destruction. most of the officers were also tipsy; not one of them was saluted by the soldiers. "_the german fury in belgium_," by l. mokveld. [illustration] _seduction_ "_ain't i a lovable fellow?_" there is very strong reason to suspect that young girls were carried off to the trenches by licentious german soldiery, and there abused by hordes of savage and licentious men. people in hiding in the cellars of houses have heard the voices of women in the hands of german soldiers crying all night long until death or stupor ended their agonies. one of our officers, a subaltern in the sappers, heard a woman's shrieks in the night coming from the german trenches near richebourg l'avoue; when we advanced in the morning and drove the germans out, a girl was found lying naked on the ground "pegged out" in the form of a crucifix. i need not go on with this chapter of horrors. to the end of time it will be remembered, and from one generation to another, in the plains of flanders, in the valleys of the vosges, and on the rolling fields of the marne, the oral tradition of men will perpetuate this story of infamy and wrong. professor j. h. morgan _in "german atrocities," an official investigation_. [illustration] _the hostages_ "_father, what have we done?_" the municipal government of liã¨ge remind their fellow citizens, and all staying within the city, that international law most strictly forbids civilians to commit hostilities against the german soldiers occupying the country. every attack on german troops by others than the military in uniform not only exposes those who may be guilty to be shot summarily, but will also bring terrible consequences on the leading citizens of liã¨ge now detained in the citadel as hostages by the commander of the german troops. we beseech all residents of the municipality to guard the highest interests of all the inhabitants and of those who are hostages of the german army, and not to commit any assault on the soldiers of this army. we remind the citizens that by order of general commanding the german troops, those who have arms in their possession must deliver them immediately to the authorities at the provincial palace under the penalty of being shot. _the acting burgomaster_, v. henault. _liã¨ge, august 8th._ [illustration] _husbands and fathers_ thousands of belgian citizens have in like manner been deported to the prisons of germany to munsterlagen, to celle, to magdeburg. at munsterlagen alone, 3,100 civil prisoners were numbered. history will tell of the physical and moral torments of their long martyrdom. hundreds of innocent men were shot. i possess no complete necrology; but i know there were ninety-one shot at aerschot and that there, under pain of death, their fellow-citizens were compelled to dig their graves. in the louvain group of communes 176 persons, men and women, old men and sucklings, rich and poor, in health and sickness, were shot or burned. cardinal mercier, _archbishop of malines, belgium._ [illustration] _it's fattening work_ in hofstade a number of houses had been set on fire and many corpses were seen, some in houses, some in back yards, and some in the streets. several examples are given below. two witnesses speak to having seen the body of a young man pierced by bayonet thrusts with the wrists cut also. on a side road the corpse of a civilian was seen on his doorstep with a bayonet wound in his stomach, and by his side the dead body of a boy of 5 or 6 with his hands nearly severed. the corpses of a woman and boy were seen at the blacksmith's. they had been killed with the bayonet. in a cafã© a young man, also killed with the bayonet, was holding his hands together as if in the attitude of supplication. two young women were lying in the back yard of the house. one had her breasts cut off, the other had been stabbed. a young man had been hacked with the bayonet until his entrails protruded. he also had his hands joined in the attitude of prayer. in the garden of a house in the main street bodies of two women were observed, and in another house the body of a boy of 16 with two bayonet wounds in the chest. _british government committee's report._ [illustration] _kultur has passed here_ it is nothing but fanaticism to expect very much from humanity when it has forgotten how to wage war. for the present we know of no other means whereby the rough energy of the camp, the deep impersonal hatred, the cold-bloodedness of murder with a good conscience, the general ardour of the system in the destruction of the enemy ... can be as forcibly and certainly communicated to enervated nations as is done by every great war. _kultur can by no means dispense with passions, vices and malignities._ friedrich nietzsche. [illustration] _peace reigns at dinant_ in short, the town of dinant is destroyed. of 1,400 houses only 200 remained standing. the factories where the laboring population got their bread and butter were wrecked systematically. many inhabitants were sent to germany, where they are still kept as prisoners. the majority of the others are scattered all over belgium. those who stayed in the towns were starved. the belgian committee has a list of victims. it contains 700 names, and is not complete. among those killed are seventy-three women, thirty-nine children between six months and fifteen years old. dinant has 7,600 inhabitants, of whom ten per cent. were put to death; not a family exists which has not to mourn the death of some victims; many families have been exterminated completely. "_the german fury in belgium_," by l. mokveld. [illustration] _les beautã�s de la guerre_ _folk who do not understand them_ it is only in war that we find the action of true heroism, the realization of which on earth is the care of militarism. that is why war appears to us, who are filled with militarism, as in itself a holy thing, as the holiest thing on earth. prof. werner sombart. during the three months of invasion, more than 21,000 houses had been burnt down in five alone of the nine provinces of belgium, and a far greater number pillaged--more than 16,000, for instance, in the single province of brabant. of the civilian population, between 5,000 and 6,000 men, women, and children had been massacred, some singly and some in batches, some by clean killing and some after lingering tortures, some in frenzy and some in cold blood, but all with the object of terrorization and with that result. fleeing before the terror, many hundreds of thousands of belgians, especially of the middle and upper classes, had taken refuge in holland and the british isles. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _dinant: "i see father"_ an hour later the women and children were separated and the prisoners were brought back to dinant, passing the prison on their way. just outside the prison the witness saw three lines of bodies which he recognized as being those of neighbors. they were nearly all dead, but he noticed movement in some of them. there were about 120 bodies. the prisoners were then taken up to the top of the hill outside dinant and compelled to stay there till eight o'clock in the morning. on the following day they were put into cattle trucks and taken thence to coblenz. for three months they remained prisoners in germany. unarmed civilians were killed in masses at other places near the prison. about ninety bodies were seen lying on the top of one another in a grass square opposite the convent. british government committee's report. [illustration] _mater dolorosa_ the inhabitants fled through the village (near blamont). it was horrible. the walls of houses are bespattered with blood and the faces of the dead are hideous to look upon. they were buried at once, some sixty of them. among them many old women, old men, and one woman pregnant--the whole a dreadful sight. three children huddled together--all dead. altar and arches of the church shattered. telephone communication with the enemy was found there. this morning, sept. 2, all the survivors were driven out; i saw four little boys carrying on two poles a cradle with a child some five or six months old. the whole makes a fearful sight. blow upon blow! thunderbolt on thunderbolt! everything given over to plunder. i saw a mother with her two little ones--one of them had a great wound in the head and an eye put out. _from the diary of_ gefreiter paul spellman, _capt. first brigade of infantry guard_ (_prussian guards_). [illustration] _is it you, mother?_ a corporal named houston narrated that while he lay wounded on the ground, after the battle of soissons, he saw a young english soldier lying near him, delirious. a german soldier gave the poor lad water from his flask. the young englishman, his mind wandering, said, "is it you, mother?" the german comprehended, and to maintain the illusion, caressed his face with a mother's soft touch. the poor boy died shortly afterwards and the german soldier, on getting to his feet, was seen to be crying. [illustration] _men to the right, women to the left_ on sunday, august 23rd, at half past six in the morning, the soldiers of the 108th regiment of the line drove worshippers of the premonstratensian church, separated the men from the women, and shot about fifty of the former through the head. between seven and nine o'clock there was house to house looting and burning by soldiers who chased the inhabitants into the street. those who tried to escape were shot off-hand. at about nine o'clock the soldiers drove all who had been found in the houses in front of them by means of blows from their rifle-butts. they crowded them together in place d'armes, where they kept them until six o'clock in the evening. their guards amused themselves by telling the men repeatedly that they would soon be shot. at six o'clock a captain separated the men from the women and children. the women were placed behind a line of infantry. the men had to stand alongside a wall; those in the first row were told to sit on their haunches, the others to remain standing behind them. a platoon took a stand right opposite the group. the women prayed in vain for the mercy of their husbands, their sons, and their brothers; the officer gave the order to fire. he had not made the slightest investigation, pronounced no sentence of any sort. _belgian gov. committee's report._ [illustration] _a pitiful exodus_ in many groups were to be seen old, old people, grandfathers and grandmothers of a family, and these in their shaking frailty and terror, which they could not withstand, were the more pitiable objects in the great gathering of stricken townsfolk. this pathetic clinging together of the family was one of the most affecting sights i witnessed, and i have not the slightest doubt that in the mad rush for refuge beyond the borders of their native land many family groups of this sort completely perished. all day and throughout the night these pitiful scenes continued, and when i went down to the quayside early thursday, when the dawn was throwing a wan light over this part of the world, i found again a great host of citizens awaiting their chance of flight. _london daily chronicle on the fall of antwerp. october 11, 1914._ [illustration] _sympathy_ "_if i find you again looking so sad, i'll send you to germany after your father_" [illustration] _we wage war on divine principles_ the names of the priests and monks of the diocese of malines, who, to my knowledge, were put to death by the german troops, are as follows: dupierreux, of the company of jesus; brother sebastien allard, of the society of st. joseph; brother candide, of the society of the brothers of our lady of pity; father vincent, conventual carette, a professor; lombaerts, goris de clerck; dergent, wouters, van bladel, _curã©s_. at christmas time i was not perfectly certain what had been the fate of the _curã©_ of hã©rent. since then his dead body has been discovered at louvain and identified. _from a letter from_ cardinal mercier, _to the kreischef of district of malines._ _december, 1914._ the cathedral of rheims has many companions in distress. the german army, when it invaded the north of france, destroyed, totally or partially, by bombardment or incendiarism, churches and chapels at albert, serres, vieille-capelle, etavigny, soissons, hã©buterne, ribã©court, suippes, montceau, barcy, revigny, souain, maurupt, berry-au-bac, mandray, heiltz-le-maurupt, sermaize-les-bains, donciã¨res, etc. _from "is war civilization?"_ _by_ prof. christophe nyrop, _university of copenhagen._ [illustration] _prosperity reigns in flanders_ _four hundred and eighty millions of francs have been imposed as a war tax but soup is given gratis_ proclamation a war contribution, amounting to 480,000,000 francs, to be paid in monthly installments over the course of a year, is imposed on the population of belgium. the payment of these sums devolves upon the nine provinces, which are held collectively responsible for the discharge of it. the two first installments are to be paid up, at latest, on january 15, 1915, and the following installments on the 10th, at latest, of each following month, to the field army treasury of the imperial governor-generalship at brussels. in case the provinces have to resort to the issue of bonds in order to obtain the funds necessary, the form and terms of these bonds will be settled by the imperial commissary-general for the banks in belgium. baron von bissing, _governor-general in belgium._ _brussels, december 10, 1914._ [illustration] _a fact_ _this brutalism by major tille of the german army on a small boy of maastricht was vouched for by an eye-witness._ [illustration] _to your health, civilization!_ conclusions it is proved-(i.) that there were in many parts of belgium deliberate and systematically organized massacres of the civil population, accompanied by many isolated murders and other outrages. (ii.) that in the conduct of the war generally innocent civilians, both men and women, were murdered in large numbers, women violated, and children murdered. (iii.) that looting, house burning, and the wanton destruction of property were ordered and countenanced by the officers of the german army, that elaborate provision had been made for systematic incendiarism at the very outbreak of the war, and that the burnings and destruction were frequent where no military necessity could be alleged, being indeed part of a system of general terrorization. (iv.) that the rules and usages of war were frequently broken, particularly by the using of civilians, including women and children, as a shield for advancing forces exposed to fire, to a less degree by killing the wounded and prisoners, and in the frequent abuse of the red cross and the white flag. _british government committee's report._ [illustration] _a conflict of testimony_ "_sire, it's quite easy; for every witness who swears we've murdered innocent people we will produce two who will swear they did not see it_" all that i care to say about the belgian charges is that i have officially informed the state department in washington that there is not one word of truth in the statements made to the president yesterday by the belgian commission. count von bernstorff, _german ambassador, at washington, september 17._ [illustration] _the mothers of belgium_ christian mothers, be proud of your sons. of all griefs, of all our human sorrows, yours is perhaps the most worthy of veneration. i think i behold you in your affliction. suffer us to offer you not only our condolence, but our congratulation. not all our heroes obtain temporal honors, but for all we expect the immortal crown of the elect. for this is the virtue of a single act of perfect charity--it cancels a whole lifetime of sins. it transforms a sinful man into a saint. cardinal mercier, _archbishop of malines_. [illustration] _kreuzland, kreuzland ã�ber alles_ _"where are our fathers?" belgium, 1914_ [illustration] _the widows of belgium_ [illustration] _famine in belgium_ in belgium i saw this: homeless men, women, and children by thousands and hundreds of thousands. many of them had been prosperous, a few had been wealthy, practically all had been comfortable. now, with scarcely an exception, they stood all upon one common plane of misery. they had lost their homes, their farms, their workshops, their livings, and their means of making livings. i saw them tramping aimlessly along windswept, rain-washed roads, fleeing from burning and devastated villages. i saw them sleeping in open fields upon the miry earth, with no cover and no shelter. i saw them herded together in the towns and cities to which many of them ultimately fled, existing god alone knows how. i saw them--ragged, furtive scarecrows--prowling in the shattered ruins of their homes, seeking salvage where there was no salvage to be found. i saw them living like the beasts of the field, upon such things as the beasts of the field would reject. irvin s. cobb. _new york times._ _december 2, 1914._ [illustration] _bluebeard's chamber_ our function is ended when we have stated what the evidence establishes, but we may be permitted to express our belief that these disclosures will not have been made in vain if they touch and rouse the conscience of mankind, and we venture to hope that as soon as the present war is over the nations of the world in council will consider what means can be provided and sanctions devised to prevent the recurrence of such horrors as our generation is now witnessing. bryce, f. pollock, edward clarke, kenelm e. digby, alfred hopkinson, h. a. l. fisher, harold cox, _concluding words of the report of the committee appointed by the british government to investigate alleged german atrocities in belgium._ [illustration] _the prisoners_ in the first days of the war it was undoubtedly and unfortunately true that prisoners of war taken by the germans, both at the time of their capture and in transit to the prison camps, were often badly treated by the soldiers, guards or the civil population. the instances were too numerous, the evidence too overwhelming, to be denied.... from him (u.s. consul at kiel) i learned that some unfortunate prisoners passing through the town (in a part of germany inhabited by scandinavians) had made signs that they were suffering from hunger and thirst, that some of the kind-hearted people among the scandinavian population had given them something to eat and drink and for this they were condemned to fines, to prison and to have their names held up to the contempt of germans for all time. i do not know of any one thing that can give a better idea of the official hate for the nations with which germany was at war than this. james w. gerard _in "my four years in germany."_ [illustration] _the ex-convict:_ "_i was a 'lifer'; but they found i had so many abilities for teaching civilisation amongst our neighbours, that i am now a soldier_" crimes against women and young girls have been of appalling frequency. we have proved a great number of them, but they only represent an infinitesimal proportion of those which we could have taken up. owing to a sense of decency, which is deserving of every respect, the victims of these hateful acts usually refuse to disclose them. doubtless fewer would have been committed if the leaders of an army whose discipline is most rigorous had taken any trouble to prevent them; yet, strictly speaking, they can only be considered as the individual and spontaneous acts of uncaged beasts. _french government's official report, september, 1914._ [illustration] _war loan music_ "_was blazen die trompeten moneten heraus?_" early in september, 1914, the government made the first war loan issue. it took the form of â£50,000,000 of 5 per cent. treasury bonds with a five years' currency, and a 5 per cent. loan of undefined amount, irredeemable until 1924. the price of both the treasury bills and the loan was 97-1/2. during the ten days in which the lists remained open, a tremendous propaganda was carried on in the press--this quotation is typical: "the victories which our glorious army has already won in the west and east justify the hopes that now, as in 1870, the expenses and burdens of the war will fall ultimately upon those who have disturbed the peace of the german empire. but first we must help ourselves. great interests are at stake. "german capitalists, show that you are inspired by the same spirit as our heroes, who shed their hearts' blood in the fight. germans who have saved money, show that you have saved, not only for yourselves, but also for the fatherland. german corporations, companies, savings banks, and all institutions which have blossomed and grown up under the powerful protection of the empire, repay the empire with your gratitude in this hour of fate. german banks and bankers, show what your brilliant organization and your influence on your customers are able to produce." _times history of the war._ [illustration] _libertã�! libertã� chã�rie!_ soldiers,--upon the memorable fields of montmirail, of vauchamps, of champaubert, which a century ago witnessed the victories of our ancestors over blã¼cher's prussians, your vigorous offensive has triumphed over the resistance of the germans. held on his flanks, his centre broken, the enemy is now retreating towards east and north by forced marches. the most renowned army corps of old prussia, the contingents of westphalia, of hanover, of brandenburg, have retired in haste before you. this first success is no more than a prelude. the enemy is shaken, but not yet decisively beaten. you have still to undergo severe hardships, to make long marches, to fight hard battles. may the image of your country, soiled by barbarians, always remain before your eyes. never was it more necessary to sacrifice all for her. saluting the heroes who have fallen in the fighting of the last few days, my thoughts turn towards you--the victors in the next battle. forward, soldiers, for france. franchet d'esperey, _general commanding the vth army._ _montmirail, september 9, 1914._ [illustration] _the junker_ "_what i have most admired in you, bethmann, is that you have made socialists our best supporters_" england is playing a perfectly shameful rã´le in this war. even though france were allied to russia by an unfortunate treaty, england was not so allied! but england, who has ever been jealous of the industrial development of our country, used the violation of our treaty of neutrality with belgium, which was incurred only in dire need and which was yielded openly and honestly in the reichstag by the chancellor, as a pretext to declare war against us. philipp scheidemann, _socialist ex-vice-president of the reichstag._ [illustration] _the higher politics_ _the kaiser: "we will propose peace terms; if they accept them, we are the gainers; if they refuse them, the responsibility will rest with them_" germany has suggested informally that the united states should undertake to elicit from great britain, france, and russia a statement of the terms under which the allies would make peace. the suggestion was made by the imperial chancellor, von bethmann-hollweg, to ambassador gerard at berlin as a result of an inquiry sent by the american government to learn whether emperor william was desirous of discussing peace, as recently had been reported. _the associated press._ _washington, september 17, 1914._ [illustration] _luther-liebknecht in the reichstag_ "_it is a war of rapine! on that i take my stand. i cannot do otherwise_" i understand that several members of the socialist party have written all sorts of things to the press with regard to the deliberations of the socialist party in the reichstag on august 3 and 4. according to these reports there were no serious differences of opinion in our party in regard to the political situation, and our own position and decision to assent to war credits are alleged to have been arrived at unanimously. in order to prevent the dissemination of an inadmissible legend i feel it to be my duty to put on record the fact that the issues involved gave rise to diametrically opposite views within our parliamentary party, and these opposing views found expression with a violence hitherto unknown in our deliberations. it is also entirely untrue to say that assent to the war credits was given unanimously. dr. carl liebknecht, _member of the reichstag._ _september 18, 1914._ [illustration] _the land mine_ [illustration] _the very stones cry out,_ "_thou art the man_" the german government states officially in contradiction of the report made by the havas agency that german artillery purposely destroyed important buildings at rheims, that, on the contrary, orders were given to spare the cathedral by all means. count von bernstorff. _washington, september, 1914._ on sept. 19 the cathedral was fairly riddled by bombs during the entire day, and at about 3:45 the scaffolding surrounding the north tower caught fire. this fire lasted about one hour, and during that time two further bombs struck the roof, setting it also on fire. the monument, about which no troops were massed, towers above the rest of the town; to avoid it, in view of the uselessness of destroying it and because it was serving as a hospital, would have been an easy matter. it would seem that the only explanation which can be offered was blind rage upon the part of the besieging army. mr. whitney warren's _official report to the french government._ _september, 1914._ [illustration] _the braggart_ "_it was i who opened fire on rheims cathedral_" my dear sir, how is it possible to fight these people? they seem to have no mercy, no decency. it really seems impossible to know how to meet them. general castelnau to mr. whitney warren. the bells sound no more in the cathedral with two towers. finished is the benediction!... with lead, o rheims, we have shut your house of idolatry! m. rudolf herzog _in berlin lokal-anzeiger. jan., 1915._ [illustration] _rheims--war and christ_ the commonest, ugliest stone put to mark the burial-place of a german grenadier is a more glorious and venerable monument than all the cathedrals of europe put together. gen. von disfurth _in hamburger nachrichten._ reduce to ashes the basilica of rheims where klodovig was anointed, where that empire of franks was born--the false brothers of the noble teutons; burn that cathedral! _written in the year 1814 by_ jean-joseph goerres _in the "rheinische merkin."_ [illustration] liquid fire in october, 1914, the headquarters of the second german army at st. quentin had issued an order regulating the use of fire-squirts ejecting inflammable liquid. a special corps of pioneers, attachable to any unit which might need them, had been organized to handle this novel weapon. the order explained that the instrument could squirt a flame which would cause mortal injury and which, owing to the heat generated, would drive the enemy to a considerable distance. it was recommended particularly for street fighting. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _we are on our way to calais!_ in those days the german headquarters gave continuously the order, "to calais, to calais," and the staff considered no difficulties, calculated no sacrifices, in order to achieve success. what these frenzied orders have cost in human lives history will tell later on. "_the german fury in belgium_," by l. mokveld. then the "seventy fives" were brought up at a gallop and poured a hail of shell at the demoralized german infantry wading frantically through the water towards the canal. rifles and machine guns joined the work of destruction, and the placid lake between the railway and canal was soon dotted with drowning germans fallen from the demoralized crowds struggling to reach a haven of safety over the bridges of st. georges, schoorbakke, and tervaete. the crisis of the battle of the yser was over; the germans had made their great effort and had failed. _the times history of the war._ _battle of the yser. october, 1914._ [illustration] _write it down, schoolmaster_ _william: "write it down, schoolmaster. monday shall be copper day; tuesday, potato day; wednesday, leather day; thursday, gold day; friday, rubber day; saturday, no dinner day, and sunday, hate day!"_ take you the folk of the earth in pay, with bars of gold your ramparts lay, bedeck the ocean with bow on bow, ye reckon well, but not well enough now, french and russian, they matter not, a blow for a blow, a shot for a shot, we fight the battle with bronze and steel, and the time that is coming peace will seal, you we will hate with a lasting hate, we will never forego our hate, hate by water and hate by land, hate of the head and hate of the hand, hate of the hammer and hate of the crown, hate of seventy millions choking down, we love as one, we hate as one, we have one foe and one alone, england! _hymn of hate, by_ ernst lissauer. _translation by_ barbara henderson. _new york times, oct., 1914._ [illustration] _barbed wire_ [illustration] _the sea mine_ take the very first incident of the war, the mine laying by the _kã¶nigin luise_. here was a vessel, which was obviously made ready with freshly charged mines some time before there was any question of a general european war, which was sent forth in time of peace, and which, on receipt of a wireless message, began to spawn its hellish cargo across the north sea at points fifty miles from land in the track of all neutral merchant shipping. there was the keynote of german tactics struck at the first possible instant. so promiscuous was the effect that it was a mere chance which prevented the vessel which bore the german ambassador from being destroyed by a german mine. from first to last some hundreds of people have lost their lives on this tract of sea, some of them harmless british trawlers, but the greater number sailors of danish and dutch vessels pursuing their commerce as they had every right to do. it was the first move in a consistent policy of murder. sir arthur conan doyle _in "the german war."_ [illustration] _his master's voice_ the _vlaamsche stem_ (_flemish voice_), a flemish newspaper, was bought by the germans, whereupon the whole of the staff resigned, as it no longer represented its title. [illustration] _the promise_ we shall never sheathe the sword which we have not lightly drawn until belgium recovers in full measure all and more than she has sacrificed, until france is adequately secured against the menace of aggression, until the rights of the smaller nationalities of europe are placed upon an unassailable foundation, and until the military domination of prussia is wholly and finally destroyed. h. h. asquith, _prime minister of england._ _november, 1914._ [illustration] _the raid_ "_do you remember black mary of hamburg?_" "_aye, well._" "_she got six years for killing a child, whilst we get the iron cross for killing twenty at hartlepool._" this morning a german cruiser force made a demonstration upon yorkshire coast, in the course of which they shelled hartlepool, whitby, and scarborough. a number of their fastest ships were employed for this purpose, and they remained about an hour on the coast. they were engaged by patrol vessels on the spot. during the bombardment, especially in west hartlepool, the people crowded in the streets, and approximately twenty-two were killed and fifty wounded. _british admiralty report._ _december, 1914._ [illustration] _the typhus inferno at wittenberg_ they were received in apathetic silence (dec., 1914). the rooms were unlighted, the men were aimlessly marching up and down, some were lying on the floor, probably sickening for typhus. when they got into the open air again major fry broke down. the horror of it all was for the moment more than he could bear. major priestly saw delirious men waving arms brown to the elbow with fã¦cal matter. the patients were alive with vermin; in the half light he attempted to brush what he took to be an accumulation of dust from the folds of a patient's clothes, and he discovered it to be a moving mass of lice. in one room in compound no. 8 the patients lay so close to one another on the floor that he had to stand straddle-legged across them to examine them. what the prisoners found hardest to bear in this matter were the jeers with which the coffins were frequently greeted by the inhabitants of wittenberg who stood outside and were permitted to insult their dead. _report of the british committee._ [illustration] _remember wittenberg_ these medical officers protested with the camp commander against the herding together of the french and british prisoners with the russians, who, as i have said, were suffering from typhus fever. but the camp commander said, "you will have to know your allies"; and kept all of his prisoners together, and thus as surely condemned to death a number of french and british prisoners of war as though he had stood them against the wall and ordered them shot by a firing squad. conditions in the camp during the period of this epidemic were frightful. the camp was practically deserted by the germans. at the time i visited the camp the typhus epidemic, of course, had been stamped out. the germans employed a large number of police dogs in this camp and these dogs not only were used in watching the outside of the camp in order to prevent the escape of prisoners but also were used within the camp. many complaints were made to me by prisoners concerning these dogs, stating that men had been bitten by them. it seemed undoubtedly true that the prisoners there had been knocked about and beaten in a terrible manner by their guards. james w. gerard _in "my four years in germany."_ [illustration] _the wonders of culture_ on january 29, 1915, the first zeppelin raid upon paris took place. twenty-four people were killed outright by the exploding bombs and over 30 were injured. with one exception all the dead and injured were civilians and the majority were women and children. [illustration] _tirpitz' last hope--piracy_ the waters around great britain and ireland, including the whole english channel, are declared a war zone on and after february 18, 1915. every enemy merchant ship found in this war zone will be destroyed, even if it is impossible to avert dangers which threaten the crew and passengers. also neutral ships in the war zone are in danger, as in consequence of the misuse of neutral flags ordered by the british government on january 31, and in view of the hazards of naval warfare, it cannot always be avoided that attacks meant for enemy ships endanger neutral ships. shipping northward, around the shetland islands, in the eastern basin of the north sea, and a strip of at least thirty nautical miles in breadth along the dutch coast, is endangered in the same way. _german navy official communication. berlin, february 4, 1915._ [illustration] _alcoholism--britons never will be slaves_ the vast majority belong to a class we can depend upon. the others are a minority. but, you must remember, a small minority of workmen can throw a whole works out of gear. what is the reason? sometimes it is one thing, sometimes it is another, but let us be perfectly candid. it is mostly the lure of the drink. they refuse to work full time, and when they return their strength and efficiency are impaired by the way in which they have spent their leisure. drink is doing us more damage in the war than all the german submarines put together. d. lloyd george at bangor. _february 28, 1915._ [illustration] _the crown prince: "isn't it an enjoyable war?"_ _william: "perhaps, but hardly as much so as i anticipated"_ to sum up, the german general staff has placed upon its record since the beginning of the campaign--apart from the failure of its great plan, which aimed at the crushing of france in a few weeks--seven defeats of high significance, namely, the defeat of the sudden attack on nancy, the defeat of the rapid march on paris, the defeat of the envelopement of our left in august, the defeat of the same envelopement in november, the defeat of the attempt to break through our centre in september, the defeat of the coast attack on dunkirk and calais, and the defeat of the attack on ypres. _french official report, february, 1915._ [illustration] _a letter from the german trenches_ "_we have gained a good bit: our cemeteries now extend as far as the sea_" the wastage of german effectives is easy to establish. we have for the purpose two sources--the official lists of losses published by the german general staff and the notebooks, letters, and archives of soldiers and officers killed and taken prisoners. these different documents show that by the middle of january the german losses on the two fronts were 1,800,000 men. these figures are certainly less than the reality, because, for one thing, the sick are not comprised, and, for another, the losses in the last battle in poland are not included. let us accept them, however; let us accept also that out of these 1,800,000 men 500,000--this is the normal proportion--have been able to rejoin after being cured. thus the final loss for five months of the campaign has been 1,300,000 men, or 260,000 men per month. _french government official report._ _march, 1915._ [illustration] _neuve chapelle_ _order of the crown prince of bavaria: "you must give those english heavy blows."_ _tommy to prisoners after neuve chapelle: "weren't they heavy?"_ soldiers of the sixth army! we have now the good luck to have also the englishmen opposite us on our front, troops of that race whose envy was at work for years to surround us with a ring of foes and to throttle us. that race especially we have to thank for this war. therefore, when now the order is given to attack this foe, practice retribution for their hostile treachery and for the many heavy sacrifices! show them that the germans are not so easily to be wiped out of history. show them that, with german blows of a special kind. here is the opponent who most blocks a restoration of the peace. up and at him! crown prince rupprecht. after several days of severe fighting the british captured neuve chapelle, on the 11th march, 1915. the german loss was estimated at 18,000. [illustration] _the munition shortage_ _fired at but unable to reply_ we have unfortunately found that the output is not only not equal to our necessities, but does not fulfil our expectations.... i can only say that the supply of war material at the present moment and for the next two or three months is causing me very serious anxiety, and i wish all those engaged in the manufacture and supply of these stores to realize that it is absolutely essential not only that the arrears in the deliveries of our munitions of war should be wiped off, but that the output of every round of ammunition is of the utmost importance and has a large influence on our operations in the field. lord kitchener. _house of commons, march 15, 1915._ [illustration] _submarine bags_ on march 18 a month had passed since the beginning of our sharp procedure against our worst foe. we can in every way be satisfied with the results achieved in the meantime! in spite of all steps taken before and thereafter, the english have everywhere had important losses to show at sea--some 200 ships lost since the beginning of the war, according to the latest statements of the allies. in the innocent exalted island kingdom many a fellow is already striking; why should not even the recruit strike, who is also beginning to get a glimmer of the truth that there are no props in the ocean waves? the more opponents come before the bows of our ships and are sunk, the better! down with them to the bottom of the sea; that alone will help! let us hope that we shall soon receive more such cheerful news. vice-admiral kirchoff. _hamburger framdenblatt._ _march 19, 1915._ [illustration] "_i had such a delightful dream that the whole thing was not true_" the strategic retreat of the french army, the facility with which the german armies were able to advance from august 25 to september 5, gave our adversaries a feeling of absolute and final superiority, which manifested itself at that time by all the statements gleaned and all the documents seized. at the moment of the battle of the marne the first impression was one of failure of comprehension and of stupor. a great number of german soldiers, notably those who fell into our hands during the first days of that battle, believed fully, as at the end of august, that the retreat they were ordered to make was only a means of luring us into a trap. german military opinion was suddenly converted when the soldiers saw that this retreat continued, and that it was being carried out in disorder, under conditions which left no doubt as to its cause and its extent. _french government official report._ _march, 1915._ [illustration] _fox tirpitz preaching to the geese_ "_you see, my little dutch geese, i am fighting for the freedom of the seas_" on march 25, 1915, the dutch vessel _medea_, on the way from valencia to london, was sunk by a german submarine, u 28, near beachy head, after the crew had had time to save themselves in the boats. the submarine towed the two boats for a quarter of an hour and then left the occupants to their fate. the german government considered that the declaration of london gave it the right to sink neutral prizes laden with contraband. the dutch government held firmly to its standpoint that the destruction of a neutral prize was in all circumstances an illegal act and that the prescription of the declaration of london allowing, by way of exception, destruction of neutral prizes, could not be regarded as established international law. its offer to submit the case to international arbitration was rejected by the german government. _times history of the war._ [illustration] "_iron crosses_" "_you laugh, muller! but there are still people who like them, and besides it gives me exercise_" from the very beginning there was a wholesale distribution of iron crosses. before the war the possession of an iron cross was a rare distinction and a cherished memory of the war of 1870. iron crosses soon became as plentiful as blackberries. according to official statistics there had up to the end of march, 1915, been distributed five grand crosses, 6,488 iron crosses of the first class, and 338,261 iron crosses of the second class. during the whole of the war of 1870 only 1,304 iron crosses of the first class and 45,791 iron crosses of the second class had been distributed. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _bethmann-hollweg and truth_ "_truth is on the path and nothing will stay her_" a german has written this book. no frenchman, no russian, no englishman. a german who is unbribed and unbribable, not bought and not for sale. a german who loves his fatherland as much as any man; but just because he loves it, he has written this book. _opening lines of "j'accuse"--a german to germans--published in switzerland, april, 1915._ the book sets out to prove that the war had long been planned and prepared by germany and austria, not only from the military but from the political point of view. that it had long been determined to represent this aggressive war to the german people as a war of liberation, since it was known that only thus could the needful enthusiasm be aroused. that the object of this war is the establishment of german hegemony on the continent, and in due course the conquest of england's position as a world power on the principle "_ote-toi de lã  que je m'y mette_." [illustration] _the falaba_ "_we have better luck with passenger boats than with war ships, for they cannot shoot_" on march 28, 1915, the british steamer _falaba_ was torpedoed by a german submarine. the torpedoes were fired while the crew and passengers were entering the small boats. more than 100 persons, including mr. thrasher, an american citizen, perished with the ship. while some of the boats were still on their davits the submarine fired a torpedo at short range. this action made it absolutely certain that there must be great loss of life and it must have been committed knowingly with the intention of producing that result. british official press bureau. _april 8, 1915._ [illustration] _the gas fiend_ at some time between 4 and 5 p.m. (22d april) the germans started operations by releasing gases with the result that a cloud of poisonous vapor rolled swiftly before the wind from their trenches toward those of the french west of langemarck, held by a portion of the french colonial division. allowing sufficient time for the fumes to take full effect on the troops facing them, the germans charged forward over the practically unresisting enemy in their immediate front, and, penetrating through the gap thus created, pressed on silently and swiftly to the south and west. british official eyewitness. _april 27, 1915._ "we shall not allow these wonderful weapons, which german intelligence invented, to grow rusty." _the cologne gazette._ germany was a signatory to the declaration at the hague conference of 1899, and an article in that declaration ran as follows: "the contracting powers agree to abstain from the use of projectiles the sole object of which is the diffusion of asphyxiating or deleterious gases." [illustration] _slow asphyxiation_ these men were lying struggling for breath and blue in the face. on examining the blood with the spectroscope and by other means, i ascertained that the blueness was not due to the presence of any abnormal pigment. there was nothing to account for the blueness (cyanosis) and struggle for air but the one fact that they were suffering from acute bronchitis, such as is caused by inhalation of an irritant gas. their statements were that when in the trenches they had been overwhelmed by an irritant gas produced in front of the german trenches and carried toward them by a gentle breeze. _official investigation by_ dr. j. s. haldane, f.r.s. [illustration] "_hullo! potsdam? did you thank your dear old god for this new success?_" the royal highlanders of montreal, 13th battalion, and the 48th highlanders, 15th battalion, were more especially affected by the discharge. the royal highlanders, though considerably shaken, remained immovable on their ground. the 48th highlanders, who no doubt received a more poisonous discharge, were for the moment dismayed, and, indeed, their trench, according to the testimony of very hardened soldiers, became intolerable. the battalion retired from the trench, but for a very short distance and for a very short time. in a few moments they were again their own men. they advanced on and reoccupied the trenches which they had momentarily abandoned.... the sorely tried battalion (the 13th) held on for a time in dug-outs, and, under cover of darkness, retired again to a new line being formed by reinforcements. the rearguard was under lieut. greenshields. but major mccuaig remained to see that the wounded were removed. it was then, after having escaped a thousand deaths through the long battle of the night, that he was shot down and made a prisoner. sir max aitken, _in "canada in flanders."_ [illustration] "_the adoration of the magi_" [illustration] _all is quiet in belgium_ i asked general von bissing if there was much need for this military tribunal (the feld gericht). i shall not forget his reply. "we have a few serious cases," he said. "occasionally there is a little sedition but for the most part it is only needle pricks. they are quiet now. they know why," and, slowly shaking his head, von bissing, who is known as the sternest disciplinarian in the entire german army, smiled. _from an interview given by the_ governor-general of belgium _to_ edward lyall fox, _new york times, april, 1915._ [illustration] _germany: "gott strafe england! or i will do it myself"_ notice! travellers intending to embark on the atlantic voyage are reminded that a state of war exists between germany and her allies and great britain and her allies; that the zone of war includes the waters adjacent to the british isles; that, in accordance with formal notice given by the imperial german government, vessels flying the flag of great britain, or of any of her allies, are liable to destruction in those waters and that travellers sailing in the war zone on ships of great britain or her allies do so at their own risk. imperial german embassy. _washington, d. c., april 22, 1915._ _advertisement published in new york newspapers._ [illustration] "_well, have you nearly done?_" the cunard liner _lusitania_ was yesterday torpedoed by a german submarine and sank. the _lusitania_ was naturally armed with guns. moreover, as is well know here, she had large quantities of war material in her cargo. berlin official report, _may 8, 1915._ this report is not correct. the _lusitania_ was inspected before sailing, as is customary. no guns were found, mounted or unmounted, and the vessel sailed without any armament. collector port of new york, _may 9, 1915._ the sinking of the british passenger steamer _falaba_ by a german submarine on march 28, through which leon c. thrasher, an american citizen, was drowned; the attack on april 28 on the american vessel _cushing_ by a german aeroplane; the torpedoing on may 1 of the american vessel _gulflight_ by a german submarine as a result of which two or more american citizens met their death; and, finally, the torpedoing and sinking of the steamship _lusitania_, constitute a series of events which the government of the united states has observed with growing concern, distress, and amazement. from united states note to germany, _may 13, 1915._ [illustration] _the lusitania--herod's nightmare_ "_are they crying 'mother'--or 'murder'?_" this represents not merely piracy, but piracy on a vaster scale of murder than old-time pirates ever practiced. this is the warfare which destroyed louvain and dinant and hundreds of men, women, and children in belgium. it is a warfare against innocent men, women, and children traveling on the ocean, and our own fellow-countrymen and countrywomen, who are among the sufferers. it seems inconceivable that we can refrain from taking action in this matter, for we owe it not only to humanity, but to our own national self-respect. col. theodore roosevelt. _may 7, 1915._ [illustration] _victims of german kultur_ whatever be the other facts regarding the _lusitania_, the principal fact is that a great steamer, primarily and chiefly a conveyance for passengers, and carrying more than a thousand souls having no part or lot in the conduct of the war, was torpedoed and sunk without so much as a challenge or a warning, that men, women and children were sent to their death in circumstances unparalleled in modern warfare. united states government's note to germany. [illustration] _the verdict_ "_it is the hour, come_" we find that this appalling crime was contrary to international law and the conventions of all civilized nations, and we therefore charge the officers of the said submarine, and the emperor of the government of germany, under whose orders they acted, with the crime of wilful and wholesale murder before the tribunal of the civilized world. we desire to express our sincere condolence with the relatives of deceased; the cunard company; and the united states of america, so many of whose citizens perished in this murderous attack on an unarmed liner. _the unanimous verdict of the irish jury at the inquest of the "lusitania" victims._ [illustration] "_this is too boring, do suggest something new_" _some german achievements in the first months of the great war_: the violation of belgium and luxemburg. massacre of civilian populations in belgium and france. bombardment by warships of open towns. murder of civilians by air raids. murder of civilians on the high seas. the introduction of liquid fire and poison gas. enslavement of conquered civilian communities. [illustration] "_have another piece?_" without a drop of blood flowing, and without the life of a single italian being endangered, italy could have secured the long list of concessions which i recently read to the house--territory in tyrol and on the isonzo as far as the italian speech is heard, satisfactions of the national aspirations in trieste, a free hand in albania, and the valuable port of valona. von bethmann-hollweg. _reichstag, may 28, 1915._ [illustration] _the wolf-trap_ _italy: "you would make me believe that i shall have my cub given back to me, but i know i shall have to fight for it"_ the discussion continued for months from the first days of december to march, and it was not until the end of march that barion burian offered a zone of territory comprised within a line extending from the existing boundary to a point just north of the city of trent. in exchange for this proposed cession the austro-hungarian government demanded a number of pledges, including among them an assurance of entire liberty of action in the balkans. _note should be made of the fact that the cession of the territory around trent was not intended to be immediately effective as we demanded, but was to be made only upon the termination of the european war._ signor sonnino. _italian minister of foreign affairs._ _may 25, 1915._ [illustration] _the broken alliance and italy_ "_twenty years and more you've forced me to wear this chain_" for the guardianship, therefore, of these treaties the government of the kingdom of italy found itself constrained to notify the imperial austrian government on the fourth of this month, may, 1915, that it must withdraw all of its proposals of agreement, denounce the treaty of the alliance, and declare its own liberty of action. nor, on the other hand, was it more possible to leave italy in isolation without security and without prestige, just at the moment in which the history of the world was taking on a decisive phase. everything else we must forget from this moment, and remember only this: to be _italians_, to love all italy with the same faith and fervor. the forces of all must be cemented into one single heart; only one single will must guide all toward the wished for end; and force, and art, and will must find their expression one, alive, and heroic in the army and navy of italy and in the august leader who conducts them toward the destiny of the new history. antonio salandra. _president of the ministerial council._ _rome. may 20, 1915._ [illustration] _gott strafe italien_ neither serbia nor russia, despite a long and costly war, is hated. italy, however, or rather those italian would be politicians and business men who offer violence to the majority of peaceful italian people, are so unutterably hated with the most profound honesty that this war can produce. _the frankfurter zeitung, may 25, 1915._ [illustration] _the latin sisters_ _italy: "indeed she is my sister"_ giuseppe garibaldi with a corps of italian soldiers went to the defense of the french republic in the war of 1870 against the prussians, performing heroic deeds at dijon worthy of an epopee. ricciotti garibaldi, living son of the hero, with a corps of italian volunteers went to the defense of greece against turkey in 1897, performing heroic deeds worthy of an epopee at domokos. peppino garibaldi, living son of ricciotti, with a corps of italian volunteers went to the defense of the french republic in the present war against germany, performing heroic deeds worthy of an epopee in the argonne. _from "why italy entered the great war."_ luigi carnovale. [illustration] _the zeppelin triumph_ "_but mother had done nothing wrong, had she, daddy?_" the first zeppelin attack on london was made on the evening of the last day of may, 1915. zeppelins passed over colchester at 10 o'clock, and at twenty-three minutes past ten the people in one of the poorest and most crowded quarters of east end were startled to find bomb after bomb, mainly of incendiary type, dropping among them. a large number of civilians including many women and children were killed. by shell from sea, by bomb from air, our greeting shall be sped, making each english homestead a mansion of the dead. and even grey will tremble as falls each iron word; "god punish england, brother? yea! punish her, o lord!" _a hymn of hate by_ herr hochstetter. _translated by_ capt. g. valentine williams. _london daily mail._ [illustration] _my son, go and fight for your motherland_ is your conscience clear? ask your conscience why you are staying comfortably at home instead of doing _your_ share for your king and country. 1. are you too old? the only man who is too old is the man who is over 38. 2. are you physically fit? the only man who can say honestly that he is not physically fit is the man who has been told so by a medical officer. 3. do you suggest you cannot leave your business? in this great crisis the only man who cannot leave his business is the man who is himself actually doing work for the government. if your conscience is not clear on these three points your duty is plain. enlist to-day god save the king _newspaper advertisement in british press, may, 1915._ [illustration] _the sacrifice--for humanity's sake_ the women of great britain will never forget what belgium has done for all that women hold most dear. in the days to come mothers will tell their children how a small but great-souled nation fought to the death against overwhelming odds and sacrificed all things to save the world from an intolerable tyranny. the story of the belgian people's defense of freedom will inspire countless generations yet unborn. emmeline pankhurst, _in "king albert's book."_ [illustration] _on ticket-of-leave_ "_next time i'll wear a german helmet and plead 'military necessity'_" the german went into this war with a mind which had been carefully trained out of the idea of every moral sense or obligation, private, public, or international. he does not recognize the existence of any law, least of all those he has subscribed to himself, in making war against women and children. all mankind bears witness to-day that there is no crime, no cruelty, no abomination that the mind of man can conceive which the german has not perpetrated, is not perpetrating, and will not perpetrate if he is allowed to go on. these horrors and perversions were not invented by him on the spur of the moment. they were arranged beforehand. their outlines are laid down in the german war book. they are part of the system in which germany has been scientifically trained. it is the essence of that system to make such a hell of countries where their armies set foot that any terms she may offer will seem like heaven to the people whose bodies she has defiled and whose minds she has broken of set purpose and intention. rudyard kipling, _at southport, england, june, 1915._ [illustration] _another german "victory"_ in june the germans once more turned to the east and the north-east coast. on june 4, 1915, there was a raid, doing some slight damage; and two days later there was another, by far the most serious of any that had yet happened. the raiders succeeded in reaching a town on the east coast during the night and bombed it at their leisure. one large drapery house was struck and was completely wrecked, the entire building--a somewhat old one--collapsing. some working-class streets were very badly damaged, a number of houses destroyed, and many people injured. it was one of the peculiarities of this raid that, unlike most of the others, all the people injured were struck while indoors. the total casualties here were twenty-four killed, about sixty seriously injured, and a larger number slightly injured. _times history of the war._ [illustration] "_he was a brave 'zepp,' he had already killed over one hundred women and children_" the outrage (see preceding page) was quickly avenged by a young british naval airman, flight sub-lieut. r. a. j. warneford, in one of the most brilliant aerial exploits of the war. on the morning of june 7 at 3 a. m. he encountered a zeppelin returning from the coast of flanders to ghent, and chased it, mounting above it and sailing over it at a height of 6,000 feet. zeppelin and aeroplane exchanged shots, and when the zeppelin was between one and two hundred feet immediately below him he dropped six bombs on it. one bomb hit the zeppelin fairly, causing a terrific explosion, and setting the airship on fire from end to end. warneford's aeroplane was caught by the force of the explosion and turned upside down, but he succeeded in righting it before it touched the ground. he was forced to alight within the german lines. nevertheless he restarted his engine, though not without great difficulty, and in due course returned to his station without damage. only the framework of the zeppelin was left, the crew being all burned or mangled, and the body of the machine being completely destroyed. _times history of the war._ [illustration] _the great surprise_ _moses ii. leads his chosen people through the channel to the promised (eng.) land_ from a military or political or economic point of view one should look at the matter (the capture of calais) with the eyes of great britain and define the calais idea as a possibility for a seafaring continental power to conduct a war against great britain from the continental coast channel and with all military resources while holding open communication between the atlantic ocean and the north sea. count von reventlow. _june, 1915._ [illustration] _botha to britain_ "_i have carried out everything in accordance with our compact at vereeniging_" on july 9, 1915, a despatch from general botha was published stating that he had brought his campaign in south-west africa to a triumphant close, and had received the unconditional surrender of governor sietz and the german forces of 3,500 men. the campaign, commencing in february, had lasted five months. the patriotic devotion of general botha and the loyalty of the great majority of the dutch people to the cause of the british empire were a magnificent vindication of the liberal cabinet's policy of reconciliation after the close of the south african war. [illustration] _the british commonwealth in arms_ the self-governing colonies in the british empire have at their disposal a 'militia,' which is sometimes only a process of formation. they can be completely ignored so far as concerns any european theatre of war. von bernhardi, _1911_. our thoughts naturally turn to the splendid efforts of the oversea dominions and india, who, from the earliest days of the war, have ranged themselves side by side with the mother country. the prepared armed forces of india were the first to take the field, closely followed by the gallant canadians--who are now fighting alongside their british and french comrades in flanders. in the dardanelles the australians and new zealanders--combined with the same elements, have already accomplished a feat of arms of almost unexampled brilliancy. in each of these great dominions new and large contingents are being prepared, while south africa, not content with the successful conclusion of the arduous campaign in south-west africa, is now offering large forces to engage the enemy in the main theatre of war. lord kitchener, _guildhall speech, july 9, 1915._ there are now in training or in the field 350,000 troops of the overseas dominions alone, while this country, on estimate, has at least 2,775,000 men in the field or in training. sir gilbert parker, _july, 1915._ [illustration] _john bull: "come on, michael, i'm awake now"_ rightly or wrongly, we have in the past devoted our energies and our intelligence, not to preparations for war, but to that social progress which makes for the happiness and contentment of the mass of our people. and this, no doubt, is the reason why other nations imagine that we, as a nation of shopkeepers, are too indolent and apathetic to fight for and maintain these priceless liberties won by the men who laid the foundation of our vast empire. but they are entirely mistaken in forming any such estimate of the temperament or determination of our people. great britain hates war, and no nation enters more reluctantly upon its horrible and devastating operations; but at the same time no nation, when it is driven to war by the machinations of its foes who desire to filch from it or from its co-champions of liberty any portion of their inherited freedom, is more resolved to see the matter through, at whatever cost, to a successful issue. sir edward carson, _british attorney-general._ _statement on first twelve months of war._ [illustration] _l'avenir_ the only peace which the republic can accept is that which guarantees the security of europe and which will permit us to breathe and to live and to work to reconstruct our dismembered country and repair our ruins, a peace which will effectively protect us against any offensive return of the germanic ambitions. the present generations are accountable for france to posterity. they will not permit the profanation of the trust which their ancestors confided to their charge. france is determined to conquer; she will conquer. _president of the french republic. from speech on the conclusion of the first year of war._ [illustration] _oranje boven_ _german oculist, trying on spectacles:_ "_what do you read now?_" _dutchman: "deutschland ã¼ber alles."_ _german oculist: "that is right: that pair exactly suits you."_ _"oranje boven" is the dutch cry which answers to the german "deutschland ã¼ber alles."_ the cartoons reproduced upon the opposite and following pages are selected examples of the series drawn for and published in "the amsterdam telegraaf," at the time when holland was invaded by an army of spies and secret agents who carried on a vast system of pro-german propaganda. these cartoons represent raemaekers' reply. it was during the publication of these pictures that a price was set upon his head by the german government, and he was charged by the dutch government, at the instance of the representatives of the central powers with "endangering the neutrality of holland," a form of persecution which had an effect quite opposite to that intended, as it resulted only in drawing the attention of the allies and other neutrals to the power and significance of raemaekers' cartoons, which was followed by a much wider distribution of his work. [illustration] _the envoy to her majesty_ "_madam, your soldiers will get splendid prussian uniforms and your majesty will have a place of honour in the retinue of the kaiser_" [illustration] _better a living dog than a dead lion_ _the driver: "you are a worthy dutchman. he who lies in that grave was a foolish idealist"_ [illustration] _the dutch junkers_ "_at least we shall get posts as gamekeepers when germany takes us after the war_" [illustration] _the eagle in the hen run_ _german eagle: "come along, dutch chicken, we will easily arrange an agreement."_ _the dutch chicken: "yes, in your stomach."_ [illustration] _our candid friend_ "_i shall have to swallow you up if only to prevent those english taking your colonies_" [illustration] _the free sea_ _germany's idea of what it would make of it for holland_ [illustration] by google books portraits of children of the mobility by percival leigh drawn from nature by john leech with memoirs and characteristic sketches by the author of "the comic english grammar," etc. 1841 [illustration: 009] [illustration: 010] vignette on the title-page. armorial bearings op the mobility, viz:-quarterly, 1, azure, a tile dilapidated, or shocking bad hat, argent, banded sable, for tag. 2, gules, between two clays in saltire argent, in base a pot of heavy, frothed of the second, for swipes. 3, sable, & bunch of fives proper, for rag. 4, or, a neddy sable, passant, brayant, panniered proper, cabbaged and carroted. gules, for bobtail. motto.--kim aup. crest.--on a wreath a bull-dog's head guardant proper, issuant out of a butcher's tray, surmounted by & scroll with the motto bow wow. children of the mobility of the mobility in general the mobility are a variety of the human race, otherwise designated, in polite society, as "the lower orders," "the inferior classes," "the rabble," "the populace," "the vulgar," or "the common people." among political philosophers, and promulgators of useful knowledge, they are known as "_the_ people," "the many," "the masses," "the millions." by persons of less refinement, they are termed "the riff-raff," and "the tag-rag-and-bobtail." figuratively, they are also denominated "the many-headed;" although in england, in common with the other members of the body politic, they have but one head. may it be long before that one is replaced by another! in some foreign countries, as in america, they change their head very often; and in a neighbouring kingdom (where they are called "the canaille"), their head is, strange to say, their target. we write solely for the benefit of the superior classes, that is to say, of the nobility, gentry, clergy, and so many of the public in general as will condescend to patronise our work. these individuals, if we may so call them, inhabiting a different sphere from that of the mobility, are not (with the exception, of course, of the magistracy and the clergy,) in the habit of meeting them; some account, therefore, of this little-known class, introductory to an exhibition of their offspring, may be reasonably expected of us. our gentle readers, we apprehend, have but little regarded the mobility in passing through our public thoroughfares. when employed in taking the air, they move in a loftier line than that of the pavement, and, occupied with the momentous cares of the senate, the opera, and the ball, are too deeply absorbed in meditation to cast their eyes below. the mobility are the antipodes to the nobility: the one race of men being at the top of the world, the other at the bottom of it. the word mobility is said to be derived from the latin term _mobilis_, fickle, or moveable; as nobility is from _nobilis_, noble. but what can be more fickle than fashion, what more vulgar than constancy? the heads of society, too, are quite as moveable as its tails. the nobility are continually in motion; moving in good company, moving in parliament, moving about the world. if we are to take up the mobility as vagrants, we must set down the nobility as tourists; * if the former are _moved_ by punch and shakspere, the latter are equally so by rubini and bellini. there are some who think that mobility comes from _mobble_, to dress inelegantly; a surmise more ingenious than correct. the humbler classes were perhaps originally named, as in former times they were governed, by arbitrary power. as to an opinion that the opposite term, nobility, is derived from _nob_, a word which in the vocabulary of certain persons signifies head, we only mention it to show the horrid ideas of etymology which some minds are capable of forming. * there are some real travellers among the mobility, though most of their _journeymen_ lead a sedentary life. the property most common to all the mobility is poverty; that is to say, no property at all. it is not usual to describe them as a respectable body, but they are an influential one, and their influence has, of late years, been much augmented. perhaps, also, as they constitute the operative part of the community, and its physical force, they may be regarded as being, in a national point of view, of some little importance: but all who have any pretensions to delicacy look upon them as disagreable persons. those of them who are, so to speak, at large, inhabit the huts and hovels of our villages, and the fearful dens in the less known and more unpleasant regions of our towns and cities. here they are chiefly to be found, according to medical men and other adventurous travellers, in places analogous to those in which our wine is kept, and where our menials repose, the garrets and cellars. many thousands of them are contained in ships and barracks, and also in penitentiaries, prisons, workhouses, and other places of punishment for indigence and dishonesty. the difference between the words mobility and nobility is merely a letter. so, between individuals belonging to the two classes, a single letter may constitute a distinction. there are some names peculiar to the nobility, and some to the mobility. jenkins, for example, is one of the names of the mobility, but it assumes an aristocratic character by being spelt jenkyns. the addition of a letter, or the addition of one and the alteration of another, is sometimes necessary to effect this change. thus, brown and smith are ennobled by being converted into browns and smythe. persons who have acquired their property by dealing in cheese and so forth, are, some of them, aware of this fact, and hence it is that the butterfly state of a sugar-baker is often denoted by such a transformation, and that gubbynses and chubbes enrich the aristocracy of tooting. castlemaine, mortimer, percy, howard, stanley, vere and conyers, are well known as being among the names of the nobility. in like manner, tupp, snooks, pouch, wiggins, blogg, scroggins, and hogg, are names characteristic of the mobility. dobson, jobson, and timson, are appellations of the same order. how shocking it would be to impose any one of them on the hero of a fashionable novel! johnson may _now_, perhaps, be tolerated; but we think john_stone_ decidedly preferable. the names which the mobility derive from their sponsors may be christian names; but some of them are, nevertheless, very shocking. no refined grammarian could venture to call them _proper_ names; and to dream of disgracing a scutcheon by them would horrify any one but a savage. the mind shrinks, so to speak, at the bare idea of such an association of names as ebenezer arlington, jonathan tollemache, moses montague, jacob manners, or timothy craven. an attempt to emulate the higher ranks in the choice of christian names is sometimes made by the mobility, but their selection is chiefly confined to the theatrical or romantic species; as oscar pugsley, wilhelmina briggs, orlando bung, and the like. the mobility, moreover, have seldom more than two names; though some of them, under peculiar circumstances, assume several, _pro tempore_, with the intervention of an _alias_. they very generally, too, neglect a practice universally adopted in the exclusive circles, of christening a child by a surname. it is to be wished that they would adopt this custom, for such combinations as brown green, tubb waters, white smith, or bull bates, would certainly be highly amusing. the mobility are also in the habit of using abbreviations in addressing each other, as jim, bill, dick, &c.; an eccentricity which, we are sorry to say, has proved contagious. it is frequently said of the mobility that they are houseless and homeless, and so, we believe, many of them are. but all of them are houseless, as contradistinguished from proper characters, and particularly from the nobility, each of whom can boast of belonging to a house, although no house should belong to him. whereas the nobility, without exception, have coats of arms, the mobility, with some few exceptions, have none; and the arms of their coats are often out at elbows. the costume of the mobility, though not elegant, is in general picturesque; but for this it is indebted, like a ruin, more to the hand of time than to that of the builder. and, as in the case with ancient edifices, it is diversified by various repairs of a later date, which, while they detract a little from its uniformity, considerably augment its effect. when, too, it is most remote from graceful, it is usually, for an obvious reason, airy. there is one dreadful omission in point of dress of which the mobility are universally guilty, that of going about the streets with their hands naked; an enormity which we hope will soon be put a stop to by law. it is not customary with them to dress for dinner; and although they talk of going sometimes to _court_, they do not always on such occasions consider it necessary to change their habiliments; notwithstanding which they aspire to a higher honour than that of kissing _hands_. the commanding presence, beautiful features, eagle eyes, chiselled lips, aristocratic noses, and silken tresses of the nobility, are matters of daily observation. in personal appearance the mobility do not resemble them. among the lower classes, _lusus naturae_ (a latin phrase which signifies _objects or frights_) are very common. we are inclined to consider these people as a sort of step-children of nature, who now and then indulges herself in a little jocosity at their expense, for the diversion of the better orders. she gives them funny legs and great hands and feet, she twists their lips about, and makes their eyes converge, with a whimsical look towards the nose, and the latter she turns up in a manner quite ludicrous. in short, to venture a bold expression, she _snubs_ them. we beg, however, to observe, that the nature who is a _step-mother_, is what is said to be a _second_ nature, use; and that the singularities above mentioned are a kind of heir-looms which the habits of preceding generations have entailed upon their remote posterity. besides, too many of the mobility, insensible of the advantages of an agreeable exterior, imprudently venture into chimneys and other places, handle hard and rough substances, and go about in huge heavy boots, from which incautious behaviour their appearance in many respects sustains great detriment. the use of the mobility is, to produce food, habitation, and clothing, for the superior classes, and to perform for them those various offices, which, though essential to existence, are not of a dignified quality. like some of the canine tribes, they are also employed for purposes of defence; for which, with some little drilling and correction, they may be rendered eminently serviceable. during war-time, they are caught and trained for the water; but on the expediency of this proceeding there is some difference of opinion. the manners of the mobility are neither sweet nor refined; there is none of the lump-sugar of humanity in them. it is true that one laundress will address another as "ma'am," and that the driver of a public cabriolet will speak of a locomotive vegetable vender as "that other gentleman;" still people of this description, when they salute one another at all, do so in a very inelegant manner. it is a great pity that they do not take a lesson in this respect from the french, as they would then relinquish their strange practices of nodding and winking, and poking each other in the side. but on points like these we must be brief; a glimpse only of the horrible is always sufficient. will our readers believe it? the mobility, in conversation, accuse each other without scruple, in terms not to be mistaken, of wilfully erroneous assertions! and, not content with this, often accompany the insult by a backward movement of the left thumb over the shoulder! but what can be expected of those who smoke pipes of tobacco in the open streets? the taste of the mobility is not delicate. as regards aliment, it is one which louis eustache ude never, we are sure, thought of consulting. their diet is said to include such articles as _tripe, cow-heel, (?) &c._ if any one knows what those things are. their literary appetite, that, at least, of those who can read, tends chiefly to certain publications which come out weekly, are mostly sold for the small charge of one penny, and are filled with vituperation of the higher orders. the mobility are also very fond of "last dying speeches and confessions;" indeed they regard all information, connected with the administration of the criminal law, with a peculiar interest. the mobility have various amusements, most of which are exceedingly low, and which have been in these enlightened times judiciously curtailed by the legislature. indeed they can scarcely indulge in any of them without impropriety; for they are supposed, during six days, to be continually occupied, and on the seventh to be enjoying, like the better classes, the sweets of domestic life. instead of that, they go, on sundays, to a public-house, provided there may be no pecuniary obstacle to their doing so. there, it is said, they used to play at _skittles, bowls, and nine pins_; in lieu of which, those games being now illegal on all but working days, they content themselves with getting inebriated. occasionally, on evenings during the week, some of them repair to the theatres, where those of our readers who may chance to have honoured the performances with their presence may have heard them, high aloft and far back, in a place allotted to them, making a noise. their leisure, also, when they have any, is sometimes beguiled by dramatic and musical entertainments, paid for on the voluntary principle, and appropriately performed in the open air. these exhibitions are transferable from place to place; a very fortunate circumstance, as the crowds which collect to view them might otherwise incommode the higher orders, by obstructing their carriages. the mobility, in certain amusements of theirs, present a curious and humiliating parallel to those of a portion of the nobility. they are slightly addicted to games of chance, although instead of throwing dice, they usually toss pence, and for rouge et noir, engage in what is termed _blind hookey_. we _could_ mention _some_ persons who appear to have learned one of these delightful sports from them; we mean, the _thimble rig_. they are prone, too, in their way, to the pleasures of the field; for instance, the pursuit of the rat, which, although not a noble recreation, like the chase of the fox, is yet a species of hunting. the badger likewise contributes, occasionally, to their fund of harmless enjoyment. they do not, it is true, perform nocturnal gymnastics on knockers and bell-wires, such presumption on their part being severely punishable; but it must be confessed that at an election or an illumination they evince a strong predilection for very similar exploits. the language of the mobility is very incorrect in point of grammar, and rather abounds in strong and forcible, than in soft and elegant terms. perhaps, in treating of the children of the mobility more particularly, we shall unavoidably be forced to quote a little of it; but we shall be as chary as a poor law commissioner of what we put into their mouths, recollecting that those introduced by us are intended as _companions_ to the children of the nobility. for, as the moralist informs us in the copybook, "evil communications corrupt good manners." the children of the mobility are distinguished by a remarkable circumstance, at their very birth, from those of the nobility. the latter are said to enter the world with a certain silver implement in their mouths; at all events, they have one placed there so soon as almost to warrant the idea that it was really bestowed on them by nature. the former, on the contrary, are endowed with no such thing; and if they were, it would infallibly be transferred, with all possible expedition, to the hands of a particular relative. in short, it would be made a means of procuring the nutriment which a less costly article would serve as effectually to insert. further, the children of the nobility, justly compared in various poetical effusions to delicate plants and tender flowers, are, with great propriety, reared in a nursery. but the children of the mobility, who are the subjects of no effusions but those of indignation at their appetite or their cries, vegetate, many of them, like kitchen stuff, in the open air, and are never grown, if under shelter at all, in any place resembling a _hot_-house. it is, perhaps, to the supply of moisture which, in consequence of their exposure, they receive, that their preservation is owing; for we might otherwise reasonably question how they are induced to live. the children of the mobility are not, in early infancy, interesting creatures; they are invested with none of those angelic attributes so peculiar to the aristocratic babe. it will be well, therefore, to pass over this period of their lives, and to consider them as they exhibit themselves, at a somewhat more advanced age, in the streets. those talented artists who have so laudably devoted their lofty energies to the delineation of the youthful forms of the children of the nobility, have correctly represented them as replete, in all their actions, with elegance. sleeping on banks of flowers, sitting on rocks and musing o'er flood and field, contemplating with youthful but reflective eye, the beauties of a leaf or rose-bud, standing self-enraptured and narcissus-like in some exquisite attitude before a mirror, or playing, in unconscious boldness, with a large dog, they seem to us like the denizens of a brighter sphere. such, indeed, they may with truth be said to be; for, in the spacious park, the fragrant _parterre_, and the splendidly furnished drawing-room, their delicious existence glides away. this, together with their innate refinement, accounts, perhaps, for that beautifully indescribable something that mingles with all they do. so, conversely, the inherited bias, and surrounding circumstances incidental to the children of the mobility, may be supposed to explain the very opposite "something" so peculiar to them. we find them perched on stiles and gates, and loitering about lanes and ditches, peering into periwinkles, hopping up and down the steps of door-ways, or setting a couple of mongrels together by the ears. they are not gentle--they are not sylph-like--we search in vain for a nameless grace in their steps, and a depth of hidden meaning in their young eyes. they have never been taught to dance, and their complexions have been sadly neglected. aided by mr. leech's pictures, we shall now take the liberty of introducing our young plebeians into the drawing-room. plate i. miss margaret flinn, master gregory flinn, miss katherine o'shaughnessy, and master donovan these young persons are the children of a mobility said to be the finest in the universe. the scene of their existence is a place denominated the rookery, a region situated in those obscure territories among which oxford street terminates. this district is very appositely named, and we are surprised that there is no corresponding neighbourhood, of an aristocratic character, denominated an aerie. it is a place remarkable, like an actual abode of rooks, for the noisy, pugnacious, and predatory character of its inhabitants, who however, unlike those birds, are not very active in feeding their young. their building propensities, however, are just as remarkable. humble as they are, it cannot be denied that they have much to do in the raising of the noblest houses; and if any part of the mobility may lay claim to heraldic honours, these, as well as the proudest landlords, are entitled to bear the "bricklayers' arms." their children display a peculiarly imperfect state of costume, owing to a practice, too common among their parents, of devoting the family revenues to the purchase of a certain spirituous liquor, and of converting, for this purpose, their wardrobes into ready money; conduct highly reprehensible, since, if oppressed by _ennui_, or incommoded by the calls of appetite, they ought to have recourse to the consolations of philosophy. the flinns, the o'shaughnessys, and the donovans are, as we have hinted, of hibernian extraction. miss margaret flinn was born january 10, 1824, and is now consequently in her eighteenth year. her brother, master gregory flinn, is in his ninth; his birth took place on december 28, 1832. they are the sole remaining issue of cornelius and mary flinn, the remainder of whose family, amounting to ten, all died in their infancy, with the exception of their sixth son, michael flinn, whose afflicting death at the age of five, in st. bartholomew's hospital, in consequence of his clothes catching fire, was lately recorded in the journals. miss katherine o'shaughnessy (born june 10, 1834) is the eldest of the seven children, the remainder of whom are males, of judith and terence o'shaughnessy. it will be recollected that the late mr. o'shaughnessy was killed in scaling a chimney. master patrick donovan is virtually an orphan, his parents, jane and peter donovan, being necessitated, from some mistake with respect to property, to pass their existence in exile. he was born march 18, 1830. the sensitive mind is condemned to meet with some things in this sublunary scene which are cruelly harrowing to its delicate susceptibilities. we intimated, a little above, that the children of the mobility, generally, have no pretensions to beauty; there is no rule, however, without an exception, and miss margaret flinn is an exception here. her mild dewy eyes, of a bright lustrous grey, softly shaded by her dark and pencilled brows; her small and exquisitely-formed nose; her sweet lips, well-turned chin, graceful neck, lovely complexion, and almost perfect figure, form a _tout ensemble_ decidedly prepossessing. now is it not distressing to see such charms in so uncultivated a state? who does not breathe an anxious wish that a wreath of roses should encircle that brow,--that gems should deck those _petites oreilles_,--that the gentle coercion of the corset should add the one thing wanting to that admirable but untutored waist? and then those feet--now so disgraced!--would we could see thee, fair child of the mobility, arrayed in hues of beauty by the hand of fashion, and irradiating with the beams of thy loveliness the circles of ton! but it may not be! the decrees of destiny are inscrutable, and we weep in there are few, we apprehend, to whom the following beautiful lines are not familiar:- the minstrel boy to the war is gone, in the ranks of death you'll find him; his father's sword he has girded on, and his wild harp slung behind him." now, girding on, or putting on their fathers' things, appears to be a national peculiarity of the minstrel boy's young countrymen. so, at least, it would seem from the coat of master gregory flinn; though it is very possible that the said vestment may properly belong to some other young gentleman's papa. our readers may, perhaps, have read of a set of people called socialists, whose chief characteristic is a community of property, and of almost everything else; and who, besides, live huddled together in colonies, and are not very scrupulous in their behaviour. this description applies so closely to the rookery, that we cannot but think that it is actually one of these people's establishments. its inhabitants evidently possess their clothes in common; no private individual having any of his own, but putting on, as occasion may require, the first thing that he finds lying about. hence it happens that, as the pairs of shoes, for instance, in the settlement, do not nearly equal the number of wearers, some are obliged to go without any shoes at all, and others, as in the case of master gregory flinn, to be content with one. in this latter predicament, also, is master patrick donovan; while in the former is miss katherine o'shaughnessy. the excellence of the social system is further exemplified by this interesting group, not only in respect of their apparel, but also in what they exhibit of the domestic economy of their connexions. the loaf which miss katherine o'shaughnessy is carrying is the family loaf, and the tankard at her lips contains the family beverage, of which, in the simvainplicity of innocence, she is taking her little share. master patrick donovan has just obtained possession of a herring--probably on social principles, and is conveying it, with the kettle, which the fire of some neighbouring socialist has warmed, homewards for breakfast. he is a youth of a lively turn, and the jest that hangs on his lip is called forth by the contemplative look,--(oh that such eyes should rest on such an object!) with which miss margaret flinn is regarding his finny prize. he is facetiously inquiring whether she would like a _soldier_; that term being, in the language of the mobility, applied to the delicacy in question. master gregory flinn, to whom master patrick donovan's sally seems to have given great amusement, is provided, it will be observed, with a hoop. it is fit that the superior classes, who are so apt to be guilty of misplaced charity, an amiable but fatal weakness, should know, that the children of the mobility are in many instances possessed of the superfluity of toys; which, of course, if they were really hungry, they would dispose of, and get something to eat. we certainly think that the country should not be saddled with the expense of maintaining those children of the mobility who can afford to keep hoops. there is one circumstance which, in considering the children of the mobility in general, and particularly this part of them, strikes us very forcibly indeed. we mean, the style of their _chevelure_. how easy it would be to part master gregory flinn's hair in the middle, or to bid waving ringlets to stray down the shoulders of miss katherine o'shaughnessy, instead of allowing elf-locks to dangle about her ears! and what an improvement would thereby be effected in the personal appearance of both! to require farther attentions to this department of the toilet on the part of such persons as the mobility, may perhaps appear a little unreasonable; but we must say, that did we belong to that description of persons, we would decidedly debar ourselves of the common necessaries of life, as long as nature would permit us so to do, in order to procure those (to us) indispensable articles on which the gloss and brilliancy of the hair depend. another little improvement, and one unattended by the slightest expense, might so easily be made in the condition of the children of the mobility, that we wonder that no benevolent individual has hitherto endeavoured to effect it. a glance at the group now under consideration must convince the most tasteless observer that the youthful personages therein depicted are supporting themselves on their feet in the most ungraceful posture imaginable. whoever looks at the portraits of the children of the nobility, will see that some are represented as standing in the first; others in the second position; while others again are resting, with all the elegance of a cerito, upon the very tips of their very little feet. dove-like in everything else, they are as unlike that bird as possible in their attitudes. why should the young mobility tread the earth like pigeons, when the opposite mode of standing and of progression is so much more becoming? before we take leave of these young,--we might say unfledged,--inhabitants of the rookery, we may remark, that they are much addicted to an amusement greatly conducive to the advantage of the pedestrian, that of displacing the superfluous matter which is apt to accumulate upon crossings. they also pursue an employment which, were it a legal one, we might compare to that of the solicitor general. or we might describe its followers as probationers belonging to the society of mendicants; an order, it would seem, which henry viii. could not entirely suppress. lines to miss margaret flinn. hadst thou, by fortune's hest, been born th' exclusive circles to adorn, thy beauty, like a winged dart, had pierced my unresisting heart! those charms should grace the lordly hall, the gay salon, the brilliant ball, where birth and fashion, rank and style, might bask enraptured in thy smile. there, there, methinks i see thee glide, distinguish'd persons at thy side; illustrious foreigners around, whose gentle hearts thy spell hath bound. thee, fair one, meeting haply there, while flutt'ring o'er the gay parterre, this fickle bosom then might be perchance attun'd to love and thee! plate ii. master jim curtis, master mike waters, and master bill sims. youths in full, such prolixity being, among the order of mobility to which they belong, a thing entirely unknown. the group last described, we might have represented as taken from the genus, "ragamuffin;" this, in like manner, we may consider as pertaining to the tribe, "varlet." masters curtis, waters, and sims, are members of that numerous republic of boys frequenting, like the canine race, (indeed it is not unusual to hear them described as "young dogs,") all manner of public walks, squares, streets, and alleys. pot-boys, butchers' boys, bakers' boys, errand-boys, doctors' boys, and all other boys whose professed character is that of being generally useful, but whose real one is that of being generally idle, come under this head. our readers, while in their breakfast-parlours, have no doubt often heard them notifying their presence at the area railings by noises peculiar to each. our refined taste revolts at the idea of having to describe such characters; but the task, however repugnant to our feelings, must be performed. we will endeavour to do this with as much delicacy as the nature of the subject will admit of; and we hope that while apparently sinning against refinement, we shall be earning the palliative merit of a stern fidelity to truth. "happy land!--happy land!--hallo, bill?" such is the greeting with which master mike waters, pausing in his song, and halting in his trot, accosts master bill sims, whom he meets at the turning of a corner in a place called bloomsbury square. "how are yer, my tulip?" exclaims master jim curtis, who, arriving at the same moment, completes the group. we have not expressed the christian names of the above-mentioned. [illustration: 030] of the parentage of these young gentlemen we shall say nothing. master jim curtis, we learn from undoubted authority, to any question touching the name of his father, would infallibly answer "hookey walker;" a reply, to say the least of it, of an evasive character. as certainly would master bill sims respond "vot odds;" while master mike waters would only notice the demand at all, by applying the tip of his thumb to the end of his nose, and twiddling his fingers. master jim curtis and master mike waters, but particularly master curtis, are amusing themselves by _chaffing_, or, according to their pronunciation, "charfin," master bill sims. _chaffing_, translated into intelligible language, signifies, "quizzing," "rallying," or "persiflage" thus understood, it will at once be recognised as a species of intellectual diversion often indulged in by those moving in good society. no one, for example, who has paid attention, either temporary or permanent, to a young lady, can be otherwise than aware of this fact. "chaffing," indeed, is a very venerable recreation. shakspere represents it as practised among the ancient romans. witness his "antony and cleopatra," act ii. scene 7. _lepidus_ (supposed to be in a state of wine)--"what manner of thing is your crocodile?" _antony_. "it is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is just as broad as it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with its own organs; it lives by that which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates." see also henry iv. (first part) act ii. scene 4. our readers may perhaps wish to know what the nature of the "chaffing," of which master sims is the object, may be: hoping that in attempting to gratify their curiosity, we shall not outrage their feelings, we present them with the following scene:-master mike waters. "crikey, bill!" master bill sims. "well; wot?" master jim curtis. "my eye, bill, wot a swell we are!" bill. "wot d'ye mean? i dessay you think yourself very clever,--don't yer now?" jim. "i say, bill, do your keep that 'ere collar button'd ven you has yer grub?" bill. "wot odds?" jim. "that 'ere letter of yourn's post-haste, i s'pose, bill?" bill. "do yer? how long have them muffins bin 'all hot? '" jim. "as long agin as half. i 'll bet you i know who that letter's for." bill. "i 'll bet yer you don't!" mike. "my eye! what a plummy tile!" bill. "it's as good as yourn any day, spooney!" jim. "i say, mike, twig the yaller." mike. "ho! ho! ho!" bill. "wot a pretty laugh!" jim. "do your missus keep a buss, bill?" bill. "find out." jim. "cos you'd do uncommon well to get up behind--wouldn't he, mike?" mike. "i b'lieve yer. benk! benk!" jim. "helephant! c'tee, c'tee!" mike. "now, sir! now, sir!" jim. "now, marm, goin' down! goin' down!" bill. "i tell you wot, you fellers; you'd just best cut your stick. i ain't goin' to stand bein' bullied by you, i can tell yer." jim. "i say, mike, his monkey's up." mike. "don't you stand it, bill; pitch into him--punch 'is 'ed." jim. "lor bless yer, his missus won't let him spile his beauty; she's too fond of him." bill. "yaa! you great fool! you've got enough to do to mind your own business. there's them people at 24 a-waitin' for you. won't you catch it!--that's all." jim. "see any green, bill? good b'ye." mike. "never you mind, bill, good b'ye--happy land! happy land," &c. master jim curtis is one of those youths whose office it is to supply the tea-tables of the higher classes with muffins and crumpets, nominally all hot, but really, owing to the colloquial propensities of the bearers, in general not at all hot. among his compeers he is considered a peculiarly accomplished lad. he is always sure to be acquainted with the last new song, for shocking as the idea appears, there are "last new songs," in streets as well as in drawing-rooms--we are informed that the present popular favourite is "happy land;" it having succeeded "sitch a gittin' up stairs;" previously to which the alleys were taught by our young mobility to echo the atrocious "jim crow." these various airs master jim curtis is also in the habit of whistling as he runs along; his execution being characterised by great power, particularly in the higher notes; though his compass, perhaps, is not very extended. he is likewise a first-rate performer on that classical instrument the jews'-harp. in all those various games of skill which consist in tossing coins and buttons about in gutters, his attainments are unrivalled; and he is equally expert at the pastime called "leap-frog," and similar gymnastic exercises. genius, it is said, is shown in striking out new paths; and master curtis, in the language of his acquaintance, is an "out-and-outer" (a low term for a person of talent) at striking out a slide. in a general way, so remarkable is his intellectual acumen, that he is said by all who know him to be perpetually--we cannot avoid the phrase--wide awake. in disposition he has somewhat of a satirical turn, and his caustic powers are not only evinced in "chaffing" his equals, but also, whenever an opportunity occurs, at the expense of his superiors. master mike waters is connected with the press, in the capacity of an acting distributor of diurnal literature. he is a cultivator, to a certain extent, of those elegant pursuits in which master curtis has made such striking progress. his natural endowments, indeed, are not of so brilliant a class as those of the latter; as a vocalist, for instance, he does not rise much above mediocrity, his notion of a tune being generally not quite perfect, and his memory seldom serving to retain more than the first line of a song. he appears, however, to be very diligent in his musical studies, and what he does know, is almost continually in his mouth. there is, too, one particular science for which he certainly has a decided taste; namely, natural philosophy, and he may frequently be seen on a day fit for the purpose, that is, on a wet one, performing pneumatic experiments on loose stones and cellar plates. of the nature of these experiments it may be necessary that we should give a brief description. their object is to elevate the paving stones or plates from the situation which they occupy, and is thus effected: a disc of leather is procured, and to its centre is fixed a strong piece of cord or string of about a yard in length. the leather, having been deposited at the side of the kerb-stone, a sufficient time to effect its perfect saturation with moisture, is applied, in its wet state, to the body intended to be raised, and trodden flat on its surface. the experimenter, then, pressing down the circumference of the leather with his feet (a process requiring peculiar dexterity), raises the centre of it by means of the piece of string. a vacuum is thus produced between the leather and the stone; and the pressure of the atmosphere retains them, with considerable power, in contact. by repeated efforts the stone is at length loosened, and at last, sometimes, actually displaced. this scientific recreation is now and then suppressed by the hand of authority: and certainly, were it ever practised in a fashionable neighbourhood, the interference of the executive would be necessary; as, for obvious reasons, it is highly detrimental to the _chaussure_. to return, however, to master waters. notwithstanding the moderate nature of his abilities and acquirements, he occupies a respectable place in the esteem of his associates; as there is scarcely any matter of amusement which he is not ready to promote, and in which he is unable to share. naturally, too, of a placid disposition, he is ever desirous of shining himself, or of taking the shine, as his comrades express it, out of others. he thus avoids exciting envy and resentment in their breasts; a misfortune which his friend master curtis does not always escape. a circumstance, also, which strongly tends to render him a general favourite, is, that though not very witty himself, he has a great capacity for appreciating wit,--that species of it, at least, which he is in the habit of hearing among his acquaintance. nor is a sally, of which he is himself the object, less pleasing to him than one directed against another party; he receives it with an open, tranquil, reflective, and cheerful countenance, indicating that he is on the best terms with all around him, and on better still, if possible, with himself. there is one peculiarity in his disposition which must not be forgotten,--he is a youth of a very large appetite. this fact seems, on inspection of his mouth, to confirm the phrenological axiom that size is, other circumstances being equal, a measure of power. master bill sims rejoices in the prettily-sounding title of page. we say, rejoices, only by a figure of speech; for the various remarks which his appearance calls forth from his extensive circle of young friends, render his situation a not very pleasant one. he is not aware, moreover, of the romantic associations connected with the office which he holds, and, if he were, the circumstance that he is a page, not to a noble lord, but to an elderly lady, would rather serve to embitter than to sweeten his reflections. what makes him so keenly alive to animadversions on his costume, is, that on being first inducted into it, he felt particularly proud of his exterior, which certainly underwent at that time a change for the better, as he was then a newly transformed charity boy. we should mention that before he had been three months in place, his altered diet made it necessary that he should have a fresh suit of livery; that with which he was at first invested having become much too small to accommodate his increasing proportions. the notion that he is happily situated as to alimentary comforts, has much to do in provoking the taunts of his juvenile acquaintances, who take a rather invidious view of his good fortune in that respect. they do not consider that this is very dearly purchased. master sims being forced to forego, almost entirely, all those little gratifications in which they, during their leisure hours, can indulge without limitation. in particular, he is precluded, both from the tenseness of his attire, and the necessity which he is under of keeping it clean, both of which circumstances prohibit kneeling, and--we believe we express ourselves correctly--knuckling down--from partaking of the diversion of marbles, of which he is passionately fond. we have now a few observations to make, generally, on that particular set of the children of the mobility with which masters curtis, waters, and sims are connected, which may tend, perhaps, to place the characters of those young gentlemen in a clearer light; though we fear that many fine minds have been already sufficiently tried by the picture which we have drawn. their curiosity is remarkable. any person who attracts their attention by a conspicuous dress--as, for instance, a highlander in full costume--is sure to be followed by a crowd of them, and very likely, provided they are certain of impunity, to be assailed by them with stones and other missiles. a delinquent of any kind, proceeding, under the auspices of the executive, to his state apartments, is invariably pursued by a train of them. they never fail, also, to collect around the subject, whether human or brute, of a street accident. it is desirable that their manners should be a little more respectful than they at present are. in the use of all titles of honour they are exceedingly economical, seldom dignifying any one with the term, "sir," but a policeman. strangely enough, they are, in their way, votaries of fashion. besides their songs, they have various phrases, which have, as dogs are said to do, their day. many of these will not bear mentioning; but the last in vogue, which embodies an inquiry after the health of the mamma of the person addressed, is not, perhaps, so objectionable as the majority. they have, also, particular seasons for their various amusements. thus, "hop-scot," or "hop-scotch," is "in," as the phrase is, at one time; marbles, or "dumps," at another. now hoops, then kites are all the rage. there is one species of recreation, however, which is practised among them at all times, denominated "overing a post;" for which charity boys are especially renowned; a certain peculiarity of their singular attire, combined with the remarkable lightness of their limbs and bodies, rendering them particularly adroit at this feat. in connection with the genus of the children of the mobility now under consideration, we beg to call attention to their habit of hopping alternately from side to side during a conversation. from this the philosophical observer will perhaps infer, that the graceful accomplishment of dancing is the offspring of an instinct of nature. plate iii. master "young spicy," and master "tater sam." these hopeful scions of our mobility are engaged in "an affair of honour." we apprehend that the names by which they are above designated, and by which they are commonly known, are not, _bona fide_, their own, but have been imposed upon them by the suffrages of their acquaintance, probably with reference to the occupations of their respective parents, and partly, perhaps, in conformity with the custom which generally attaches a _sobriquet_ to fistic proficiency. master "tater sam" is attended by master "lanky tim," a student attached to a parochial seminary. master "young spicy"--for street encounters are not always characterised by the strictest regularity--has no professed second; though the place of one may be considered as supplied by the exhortations of the spectators generally. as to the young gentleman midway behind the two combatants, a retainer of one of the knights of the azure vest, his attentions are bestowed alternately on both; his object being, to enjoy to the full what he regards as a "prime lark;" the reciprocation of as large an amount of blows as possible. the extremity of the by-standers' delight may be read in their animated and dilating eyes; even the soul of yonder small boy in the corner, who, but for the evident care with which he has been enveloped in his cloak, might have been suspected of having left his home without maternal cognisance, is on fire. the contrast presented by the vivacious ardour of the juvenile group to the subdued complacency with which the approving elders overlook the scene, is as interesting as it is remarkable. [illustration: 040] the hostile encounter may be supposed to have originated, and to proceed in the following manner. the parties are at first engaged in that particular game at marbles technically termed "shoot ring." tater. "now then, spicy, knuckle down; 'fend dribbling." spicy. "come, then, stand out of the sunshine." tater. "in! three clayers and a alley. game! hooray!" spicy. "oh ah! i dare say. it's no go; play agin." tater. "no, no, it's my game." spicy. "i say t'an't." tater. "i say 'tis." spicy. "you'm a story!" tater. "y ou'm another!" spicy. "come, give me my alley, will yer?" tater. "no i sharn't!" spicy. "won't yer though?" tater. "no i won't, frizzle wig!" spicy. "won't yer, puggy nose? come, i say, leave go!" (here a scuffle ensues.) tater. "don't yer wish yer may get it?" spicy. "you'm a strong feller, arn't you?" tater. "d 'ye think i'm afeard o' you?" spicy. "d 'ye think i'm afeard o' you then?" tater. "ah! jist you hit me!" spicy. "you hit me first; that's all!" tater. "well, there then!" spicy. "here's at yer!" (the contest now commences.) cries of "hallo! here's a mill!" "here's a scrimmage!" "a battle, a battle! 'tween two sticks and a rotten apple!" &c. from various quarters. (a ring formed.) butcher boy. "now then! fair play! fair play! go it!" a boy. "'it im ard; he've got no friends." second boy. "give it im, spicy! 'it im a peg in the mouth!" third boy. "at im, tater!" charity boy. "fetch im a wipe 'tween the heyes!" butcher boy. "well done, little un, great un's biggest!" first boy. "well done, tater! my eye wot a whop!" second boy. "brayvo! spicy. had im there!" hackney coachman. "a nasty vun, that ere!" cabman. "rayther." charity boy. "go in at im, tater,--that's it!" (the combatants close and wrestle. both fall; spicy under. at this stage of the proceedings a sanguine stream is seen escaping from spicy's nose; his eyes, too, are in a state of incipient tumefaction. the size of tater's lip appears considerably augmented; and he bleeds copiously at the mouth. after a short pause, hostilities are resumed.) butcher boy. "that's the time o' day. 'it im, spicy! skiver im, tater. that's it, my cocks!" third boy. "one for his nob! that's the ticket!" charity boy. "under the ribs! well done!" first boy. "that's a vinder for im!" third boy. "tater, keep your pecker up, old chap!" butcher boy. "right and left! hooroar! fake away!" all science is now abandoned, and they rush together, pell-mell; but in the heat of the conflict a policeman appears, and advancing to the scene of action, separates, with some difficulty, the incensed opponents. after a little additional altercation, they are persuaded to shake hands, and each gathering up his cap from the field of battle, returns home, accompanied by his partisans, the victory remaining undecided. the horrid scene which we have profaned our pen in describing suggests a few reflections which it may behove our readers to consider. in the first place, with reference to the coarse practice of boxing among the children of the mobility, we think it decidedly objectionable. it tends to eradicate from their minds all those fears and susceptibilities with regard to personal safety, by means of which, alone, they are manageable; and to replace them with those unamiable qualities which render them, when grown up, offensive to the genteel and the delicate. it also enables them to repay any little playfulness in which a _distinguã©_ youth may happen to indulge with them, such as tilting off their caps, or knocking their marbles out of the ring, with rude and painful blows. the frightful violence, too, which their street broils do to the ears and eyes of any of the superior classes who may have the misfortune to witness them, ladies for instance, in their carriages, is such, that we are shocked to think of it. some people say that it is best to let them have their quarrels out, as they express it, that they may be prevented from bearing malice. we hear, too, a great deal about the danger of stabbing becoming prevalent, were pugilism discountenanced, among the lower orders. still, being beaten about with great hard knuckles, is very horrid; and the knife, if more sanguinary than the fist, is decidedly more romantic and _piquant_. but what shall we say of the children of the nobility learning, at public schools, to emulate the boys of the street, transforming themselves from innocent and interesting lambs, into ferocious bull-dogs, if we may use so strong a metaphor, and making one another perfect frights? what must be the feelings of their mammas? plate iv. the family of mr. and mrs. blenkinsop among the mobility, the blenkinsops are what in the more elevated ranks would be termed, _parvenus_. two generations back they were very respectable people; but a series of misfortunes, commencing with the failure of messrs. flykite and co. which occurred some years ago, has reduced them to their present position. we shall not dwell on the steps of their descent. tales of distress, unless they are invested with a certain _je ne sais quoi_, which gives them an air of elegance, are extremely uninteresting. suffice it, then, to say, that blenkinsop,--that is to say, the father of our blenkinsops,--was a mechanic, in a country town. in his early youth his conduct was exemplary; but yielding at length to the force of temptation, he was so unfortunate as to be guilty of--matrimony. for a time all went well; but punishment is sure, sooner or later, to overtake the evil-doer, as, one fine morning, it overtook blenkinsop. an improvement in machinery threw him suddenly out of employ, and after ten years' reckless indulgence in domestic felicity, he found himself with a wife and six children, and without wages. he was now, of course, obliged to break up his establishment. the union offered its benevolent institution for his accommodation, but the asylum was proffered in vain. its salutary regulations were repugnant to his fastidious taste. among other things, its corrective arrangements displeased him. the rod of affliction, he impertinently said, he could kiss, but not that which was to flog his children. he had also an unreasonable objection to the system of separate maintenance, and put a most perverse construction on a certain moral precept which seemed to forbid it; as if that applied to paupers! he therefore spurned the parochial paradise, and betook himself, in hopes of finding something to do, to london. the only piece of good fortune that befell him there was, that the small-pox provided for three of his family. the same complaint, too, affecting the eyes of his wife-but we are violating the principle which we have prescribed to ourselves. let us be brief. mrs. blenkinsop labours under a privation of vision; her husband under a paralytic state of the extremities; and the whole family are mendicants. it is the divine shakspere who thus sings:- "sweet are the uses of adversity; which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head." the jewel of adversity, therefore, is the moral which it furnishes to the reflective mind: as in the persons of the young blenkinsops it offered to the pretty little adeline, daughter of sir william and lady grindham. the elegant child was exercising her observant and contemplative faculties at the window of the magnificent drawing-room in -------street. the fond eye of her papa was resting, in tranquil admiration, on her graceful proportions; that of her mamma, which would otherwise have been similarly employed, was directed towards an expensive mirror. "oh! dear papa," suddenly exclaimed adeline, "look, do look!" "at what, my love?" replied the doting parent. "oh! papa--those poor children!" "what of them, dearest?" "poor little things!--how they shiver! do look at them." sir william advanced to the window, and, elevating his eye-glass, directed his attention on the objects which had so powerfully excited the sympathy of adeline:--they were the blenkinsops! [illustration: 046] "oh!" said sir william; "ah!--yes, i see, love." "see, papa" pursued adeline, "that poor little boy holding the girl's cloak,--he is all in rags! and look how the girl is crying! and the tall boy--how wretchedly ill he looks!" "i see, dear." "oh, but, papa, those two have no shoes nor stockings; and they seem so hungry. may i give them this shilling, papa? to go and get something to eat?" "my dear adeline," answered the baronet, "those children are beggars." "yes, papa, i know that; do let us give the poor things something." "beggars, adeline, ought never to be encouraged, we should soon be eaten up by them if they were. they have no business there, it is contrary to law; and i am surprised that the policeman does not take them up. "take them up, papa?" said adeline, the phrase producing an association of ideas in her youthful mind; "dr. goodman said in his sermon that we ought to take poor people in." "dr. goodman is a--that is, dear, he means that the poor should be taken in--charge by the--i mean that they should be properly provided for." "what did you say, papa?" "provided for; taken care of. there are places, you know, on purpose for them. that large building that we passed yesterday in the carriage is one of them. it is called a workhouse." "what, that place where the funny man with the great cocked-hat was standing at the door, papa?" "you mean the beadle? yes, dear." "and do they give them food there?" "certainly; that is, a coarser kind of food, fit for such people." "and things to put on?" "and things to put on, too. they have clothes made on purpose for them. that man that you saw sweeping in front of the house was wearing a suit." "but what a fright he was, papa. he looked as if he had been dressed up to be laughed at. i should not like to be dressed so if i were a man." "no, dear, nor is it meant that he should. it would never do to make a workhouse too delightful; for one great use of such places is to prevent people from becoming poor, just as houses of correction are intended to keep them from turning thieves. so the persons who go into one are not dressed and fed, and otherwise treated, so as to make their situation at all enviable. the consequence is, that those who know what they have to expect in such an asylum, learn not to be extravagant and careless, for fear they should become poor themselves." "but can all people help being poor, papa?" "most of them, my love; and those who cannot--can't be helped." "but those poor children, papa,--why don't they go into the workhouse?" "why, perhaps, they prefer remaining where they are. to be sure, they ought not be allowed to do so. still, however, they are of some use. everything has its use, you know, adeline." sir william was connected with the society for the diffusion of useful knowledge. "but what use are beggars of, papa," demanded adeline, "when they do not work?" "do you not recollect, dear," responded sir william, "what farmer gibbs puts up in his corn-fields just after they have been sown?" "yes, papa, he fixes one of those great birds, those rooks, to a stick, to frighten the other rooks away from coming and eating the wheat." "just so, my love. well; many years ago, before you were born, a man who had been guilty of highway robbery or other very bad things, used to be dealt with much in the same way, that is, he was hung up on a tree in chains, after he was dead, for a warning to other thieves." "oh, papa! how dreadful!" "yes, my love, it was very unpleasant; and, besides, as the man could no longer feel, it was no punishment to him; and so, you know, the example was in a great measure lost. when bad people see other bad people suffering for what they have done, that it is that terrifies them. now when you see a beggar in the streets, all cold and naked and uncomfortable, what do you say?" "i say, 'poor man! how i wish i could relieve you.'" "well, dearest, it is always proper to be kind, and all that; but what you ought to say, too, is, 'how glad i am that i am so well off, and have a nice house and good clothes, and plenty to eat and drink; and how dreadful it must be to stand shivering in the snow without any shoes, selling congreve matches! i will take care to keep all the money i get, and not to spend it like an extravagant little girl, for fear one of these days, i should come to be like that person.' beggars, my sweet, are--shall you remember, do you think, what beggars are, if i tell you?" "yes, papa." "beggars, adeline, are living scarecrows." thoughts on a juvenile mendicant by a lady of fashion. alas! i faint, i sink, i fall i some fragrant odour quickly bring; what could thy bosom thus appal?- dost ask?--behold yon little thing! art thou a father's darling joy? art thou a tender mother's hope? if so, oh how, my little boy, how are they circumstanced for soap? thy hands--thy face--in what a state! in what a shocking plight thy head! oh! cease my nerves to lacerate imagination,--demon dread! cease to suggest that zephyrs mild mid these luxuriant tresses straying, have met, perchance, that horrid child, and with its tangled locks been playing! away, distracting thought, away, that e'en these fingers fair might close on some infected coin, which may have haply passed through hands like those! augustus montague fitzroy, illustrious infant! can it be that such an object of a boy, is made of flesh and blood like thee? plate v. master charley wheeler, master moses abrahams, master ned crisp, master dick muggins, and master joe smart. "no, no, moses, old birds arn't to be caught with chaff." the speaker, master joe smart, means, that young tigers are not to be caught with cocoa-nuts,--particularly those which have been tapped at the "monkey's nose," and of which the fluid contents have been replaced by water. such a cocoa-nut is master moses abrahams endeavouring to dispose of; but he is regarded by the group around him with eyes of jealousy,--from which, however, according to their proprietors, the hue so characteristic of that passion is peculiarly absent. he is, therefore, unable, as we should say, to sell his fruit, or, as his companions would express themselves, to sell them. to no purpose does he pledge the immortal part of him as an assurance that his commodities have not been tampered with; they have no confidence in the security. some little doubt, perhaps, may be entertained with respect to the propriety of classing master abrahams with the children of the mobility; he belonging, in a more especial manner, to the children of israel. his habits, manners, education, language, and dress, clearly warrant us in so disposing of him; although, on the one hand, we have placed him where his company may be scarcely considered an honour; and, on the other, his peculiar connexions, though celebrated, in one sense of the word, for taking everybody in, are reputed to be of an exclusive character. those who know any thing of the mobility are aware, that one very frequent expression of theirs, indicating a desire to occupy the station of such and such a person, is, "i wish i was in his shoes." now master moses, and his case is a common one with his tribe, is in the boots, at least, of one of the superior classes; nay, it is questionable whether the same thing may not also with justice be asserted of the remainder of his costume. [illustration: 054] we intimated that master joe smart is what is vernacularly termed a _tiger_: and he is sharp enough, were he a child of an order higher than the mobility, for a _lion_. his jacket has no stripes upon it, certainly; which perhaps (at times, at least) it deserves to have: but his waistcoat has. he belongs to a menagerie, consisting chiefly of individuals of the equine and canine species. it will be seen at a glance what striking advantages our young tiger has derived from his contact with aristocracy. his attitude, gestures, and expression of countenance, indicate a knowledge of the world and of the usages of society much beyond that of his comrades; and although it is undoubtedly very improper to smoke cigars, as he is doing, yet there is a certain air of committing an offence, which greatly palliates its enormity; and such an air he displays. a cigar, too, is infinitely preferable to a nasty pipe. he is moreover wearing what we at once recognise as a hat, coat, intervening garments, and boots, whereas rude imitations of these articles of attire are all that most children of the mobility appear in. the cultivation which his intellectual faculties have received, has given him a vast superiority over his acquaintance. none of them dare--we have already explained the word,--to "chaff" him. his felicity of expression, particularly as regards terms of raillery, would render the contest hopeless; even if the aggressor were not, at the first onset, disarmed by his speaking eye. we mean, his left eye, which he causes to speak very eloquently on proper occasions, by closing it in a peculiar manner. the best place for the social education of youth is the drawing-room. plate vi. master bob white and master nick baggs. [illustration: 058] behold those two chimney-sweeps; glance at their attire and their complexions; and think for one moment of the state of the thermometer. who does not remember, among the legends of his earlier days, a pathetic but harrowing story of an interesting child who was stolen, in a highly fashionable neighbourhood, from under the maternal roof, and subsequently brought up by his kidnappers to the sooty employment of masters white and baggs? the touching conclusion of the tale, where the young gentleman comes at last to sweep his own mamma's chimney, has beguiled many a fair eye of a pearl or two. is it possible,--can it be,--that we may have too hastily included those youths among the children of the mobility; and that they also may have been snatched, by some felonious hand, from the mansions of their distinguished,--perhaps noble parents? can we have unwittingly indulged in a smile at aristocratic misfortune? no, no; away with such a fear! instinct, as unerring as that which at once enabled the tender mother to recognise her disguised cherub, would have revealed to us lustre of birth in spite of obscurity of skin. whatever may be the similarity of their external circumstances, there is always an essential difference, which we filter ourselves we can instantly detect, between patricians and plebians, cholmondeleys and chummies. the following piece of impassioned poesy, forming the "thoughts of a young gentleman," suggested by their situation and appearance, may not be unacceptable to our feeling readers:- ye sable youths, ye reck not how sweet and sad a train of thoughts which i can check not, ye rouse within my brain. sweep on!--and join the light ones- yet no: a moment stay; i would not have that bright one's fair image swept away! oh! do not look so darkling! the sight i cannot bear- methinks i see them sparkling those eyes! that raven hair! and are ye chill'd and frozen? alas! and so am i; and she--my loved,--my chosen- congeals me with her eye. gaze not, with orbs of sadness, on nature's mantle white; her heart,--oh! thought of madness,- is just as cold and bright. that bell--oh! mournful token!- ye vainly seek to ring, for ah!--the link is broken;- frail, fickle, faithless thing! and you and i, deceived ones, what waits us here below, but sighing, like bereaved ones, to murmur "herb 'sago!" plate vii. miss moody and her infant sister miss martha moody, master george dummer, and the misses ann and sarah grigg. [illustration: 062] the juvenile personages above enumerated are represented as they appeared in the hampstead road, when, on a late occasion, they honoured the performance of the young italian instrumentalist, carlo denticci, with their presence. so deeply were their infant minds absorbed in the harmonious entertainment, that mute attention, during its continuance, rested, almost without interruption, on their lips; a situation where it does not usually love to dwell. miss moody was occasionally heard to address a few words, or rather syllables, but only a few, to her infant sister; and even master dummer, to whom the attire and personal appearance of the tuneful stranger seemed almost as interesting as his art, once only murmured, in an under tone, as he contemplated his hat, "my eye, what a rummy tile!" the performance, which occupied upwards of half an hour, included several of the airs most fashionable at the mobility's concerts. the well-known gem from "jack sheppard" was productive of its customary effect; even the younger of the misses moody was seen to beat time, unequivocally, to the air. the ever new american melodies elicited smiles of universal approbation; and the little party appeared to be much delighted with the caledonian march, "the campbells are coming," although they had previously had the advantage of hearing this piece performed on a somewhat perhaps more appropriate instrument. but what made amusement bliss and converted interest into ecstacy,--what opened not the ears only, but also the mouth of master george dummer, and lighted the glow-worm fire of enthusiasm in the eyes of miss ann grigg, was the beautiful, the mellifluous, the voluptuous "cachucha." oh! had they heard it in a brighter scene, where rank and fashion melt at music's breath, where mingled sighs and perfumes load the air;--that atmosphere of love and rose-water;--in short, at her majesty's theatre; and had they there seen the graceful fanny! but whither are we borne away? no! such rapture--almost too intense for the ethereal spirits of the children of the nobility,--could not have been felt by them. during the piece of music last-mentioned, a terpsichorean impulse seized on a small boy, who was standing at some little distance from our group. cracking a couple of bits of slate together in imitation of castanets, he went through a succession of eccentric movements which we should imagine must have really been what is termed the sailor's hornpipe. this exhibition appeared greatly to divert the surrounding mobility, who are much better judges, it would seem, of the humour, than they are of the poetry, of motion; and whose bosoms would not be very likely to heave the sigh, even at the pathos of taglioni. miss moody appeared without a head-dress; as most of the children of the mobility are seen at their promenade concerts. in this place may be noticed the social _soirã©es_ which take place annually about the end of december among the inferior circles, and which are principally sustained by juvenile performers. we mean those concerts d'hiver commonly known as christmas carols. the misses grigg were in bonnets, from which circumstance, and from that of miss sarah grigg carrying a basket--would we could say reticule!--on her arm, and displaying in her small hand what seemed to be a street-door key, it was conjectured that they had been shopping. the presence of master dummer at the performance was occasioned by his being _en route_ to the academy, at which he is a diurnal student. the interruption of his progress to the seminary may be attributed rather to a disinclination for arithmetic than to a love of harmony; his genius, we understand, being more of an observant and contemplative, than of a mathematical or literary tendency, and music being interesting to him, merely, to use a common expression, as "something going on." his steps, when directed towards the abode of learning, are not remarkable, generally, for rapidity; and are very apt to be arrested by a variety of little occurrences; in short, he has a strong natural inclination for the philosophical amusement improperly termed _lounging_. the remark which he was heard to make with reference to a peculiarity in denticci's dress, may be considered as an example of his reflective turn. this, too, is very decidedly observable in the expression of his eye, whose appearance is the more striking for the contrast which it presents to that of his cheek,--a part in which he strongly resembles the young gentleman alluded to in "as you like it," who is represented. indeed, if for _satchel_, we read _slate_, we shall find master dummer, taken altogether, to be no bad representative of the second of man's "seven ages,"--viewing man as he exists in the mobility. his slate may be said, in one sense, though not perhaps in that which his preceptor would approve of, to be his amusement, being usually covered with hieroglyphics rather than figures, and exhibiting much stronger indications of a predilection for "tit-tat-to," than of proficiency in the rule of three. ...............with his satchel, and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwillingly to school. the young denticci, who had the honour of entertaining our philharmonic group, perhaps it would be more in keeping to say, _batch_, of plebeian minors, is the child of a foreign mobility. to us, however, he is an object of greater interest as a child of song, and as exciting in our breast all those deep and delightful associations with which all that ends in "icci" and "ini", is so intimately and powerfully connected. plate viii. master tom scales and master ben potts. have any of our readers heard an introductory lecture on the practice of physic? or have they ever looked through the preface of a medical book. in either case, the importance of the practitioner, considered as are topics which they must have found enlarged upon. the hero preserved for his country, the father for his family, the child for the parent, all are represented as having to thank the doctor. the sufferer, perhaps a delicate female, stretched on the bed of sickness, is described as hailing his approach as that of some ministering spirit, listening anxiously for his footstep, and hearing in the creaking of his shoes, (provided it be not too loud,) a sweet and soothing music. all this is as it ought to be. but let praise be awarded where it is due, and let us not, while we appreciate the claims of the doctor, be unmindful of those of the doctor's boy. his instrumentality in the restoration of health, at least among the higher orders, cannot be denied, any more than can that of the organ bellows-blower in the production of harmony. and yet, while the thundering rap of his master at the front door, falls so harmoniously on the ear, his gentle ring at the area, and the softly-whistled air with which he beguiles the time until it is answered, are no more regarded than the idle wind. he is observed speeding on his way to the abode of sickness, without interest, and loitering on it without indignation: he acquits himself, without admiration, of his high responsibilities; he violates them, and excites no horror. [illustration: 068] masters scales and potts are, respectively, the subordinate assistants of mr. graves and mr. slaymore. the latter of these gentlemen, with whom master potts is situated, dispenses health from a private surgery; the former from a more public establishment. the difference in point of grade between these two disciples of galen is very plainly discernible even in their dependants, the two children of the mobility now before us. the uniform of master scales is much less aristocratic, and much less professional also, than that of master potts, who looks, particularly about the feet and legs, as if he had been intended by nature for a licentiate of the society of apothecaries, rather than for the servant of one. mr. graves and mr. slaymore being two out of half-a-dozen medical men residing in the same street, their young auxiliaries are in the habit of coming frequently in contact, and dialogues of a characteristic nature often take place, on these occasions, between them. we hope the following colloquy may seem less in need of abbreviation to the reader than it might be to a patient dependent on its termination for his dose of calomel. "hallo! old feller, where are you off to in sitch a hurry?" the querist was master scales, who in sauntering along the neighbouring square was passed by master potts, walking at a rapid pace, with his salutiferous burden upon his arm. "hallo!" replied master potts; and turning round he beheld his young acquaintance, tom. "well, young stick-in-the-mud!" "i say, who's got the cholera, to make you stir your stumps like that 'ere?" "who do you think?--mrs. walker." "gammon! what's up tell us." "why it's the old gal at 42; she 's precious bad, i can tell yer." "what's got her then? i see her the day 'fore yesterday, lookin' all right enough." "paralatic--least that's what maws'r says 'tis. he 'll be precious wild if she dies. my eye what a lot o' bottles i've a-took there! i warrand you ain't got sitch a good un!" "ain't we though; there's a old chap we've got from the east ingies, as i'd back agin her any day." "what! that old cove with the gamboge sneezer and swivel eye?" "aye; he've a-had the dropsy the last three months. just haven't the guv'ner stuck it into im!" "look there, whose black job is that goin' along close by old punch,--your guv'ner's?" "over the left--come, i say, don't be orf jist yet." "must. i'm in for it as 'tis." "no, no. here! i 'll toss yer for a pint." as he made this offer, master scales deposited his basket on the pavement, and produced a halfpenny. "well, come, be quick then! now! heads, i win; tails, you lose." "heads! heads 'tis! "come, i say, master ben, give us my change, will yer." "take your change out of that!" so saying, and suiting an appropriate action to the word, master potts turned rapidly on his heel; and before his professional brother could pack up his _materia medica_ from the ground, had turned a corner and was out of sight. delays are proverbially said to be dangerous; and equally well-known is the maxim which recommends the attacking of a disease at its onset. leaving our readers, according to their medical opinions, to calculate the damage, or estimate the good which the patients of messieurs graves and slaymore derived from the amusements of their young subsidiaries, we shall now conclude our notice of those personages, and therewith, our labours. we hope that we have acquitted ourselves in a satisfactory manner; but in criticising the foregoing pages, let the fact be borne in mind, that it is very difficult to render the children of the mobility _interesting_. it is easy to make a silk purse out of a proper material; but there is a substance from which it is impossible to construct it. shall we be pardoned by the superior classes for thus distantly referring to a plebeian saying! would we had had some nobler, some more inspiring theme! such, reader, had they not been already so _fairlie done_, we should have found in the children of the nobility. finis. the langham series an illustrated collection of art monographs edited by selwyn brinton, m.a. the langham series of art monographs edited by selwyn brinton, m.a. vol. i.--bartolozzi and his pupils in england. _by_ selwyn brinton, m.a. vol. ii.--colour-prints of japan. _by_ edward f. strange, assistant keeper in the victoria and albert museum. vol. iii.--the illustrators of montmartre. _by_ frank l. emanuel. vol. iv.--auguste rodin. _by_ rudolf dircks, author of "verisimilitudes," "the libretto," &c. vol. v.--venice as an art city. _by_ albert zacher. vol. vi.--london as an art city. _by_ mrs. steuart erskine, author of "lady diana beauclerk," &c. vol. vii.--nuremberg. _by_ h. uhde-bernays. vol. viii.--the eighteenth century in english caricature. _by_ selwyn brinton, m.a., author of "bartolozzi and his pupils in england," &c. _in preparation_ rome as an art city and italian architecture these volumes will be artistically presented and profusely illustrated, both with colour plates and photogravures, and neatly bound in art canvas. 1_s_. 6_d_. net, or in leather, 2_s_. 6_d_. net. =recruits. by h. w. bunbury.= the eighteenth century in english caricature by selwyn brinton, m.a., _author of_ "bartolozzi and his pupils in england," etc. a. siegle 2 langham place, london, w. 1904 _to friends beyond the seas_ _this study_ _of a common heritage in_ _english art_ _all rights reserved_ contents _page_ i. introductory 1 ii. the comedy of vice 8 iii. the comedy of society 29 iv. the comedy of politics 54 v. the comedy of life 74 illustrations recruits. _by henry william bunbury_ _frontispiece_ shrimpers (tail-piece). _by thomas rowlandson_ _page_ 7 morning. _by william hogarth_ _facing page_ 10 the distrest poet. _by william hogarth_ " 12 marriage à la mode. _by william hogarth_ " 20 the family piece. _by h. w. bunbury_ " 42 a fashionable salutation. _by h. w. bunbury_ " 48 lumps of pudding. _by h. w. bunbury_ _page_ 53 britannia between death and the doctors. _by james gillray_ _facing page_ 64 armed heroes. _by james gillray_ " 66 buonaparte as king-maker. _by james gillray_ " 68 nelson recruiting with his brave tars after the battle of the nile. _by thomas rowlandson_ " 82 filial affection(colour-print). _by thomas rowlandson_ " 86 a ball at the hackney assembly rooms. _by thomas rowlandson_ " 90 a theatrical candidate. _by thomas rowlandson_ " 92 old joseph nollekens and his venus. _by thomas rowlandson_ " 94 i introductory the word caricature does not lend itself easily to precise definition. etymologically it connects itself with the italian _caricare_, to load or charge, thus corresponding precisely in derivation with its french equivalent _charge_; and--save a yet earlier reference in sir thomas browne--it first appears, as far as i am aware, in that phrase of no. 537 of the _spectator_, "those burlesque pictures which the italians call _caracaturas_." putting the dry bones of etymology from our thought the essence, the life-blood of the thing itself, is surely this--the human creature's amusement with itself and its environment, and its expression of that amusement through the medium of the plastic arts. so that our _caracatura_, our burlesque picture of life, stands on the same basis as comedy or satire, is, in fact, but comedy or satire finding its outlet in another form of expression. and this is so true that wherever we find brilliant or trenchant satire of life there we may be sure, too, that caricature is not far absent. pauson's grotesques are the correlative of the comedies of aristophanes; and when the development of both is not correlative, not simultaneous, it is surely because one or other has been checked by political or social conditions, which have been inherently antagonistic to its growth. those conditions--favourable or antagonistic--it becomes part of our inquiry at this point to examine. we have this to ask, even granting that our "burlesque picture" is a natural, almost a necessary, accompaniment of human life,--was found, we may quite safely assume, in the cave-dwelling of primitive man, who probably satirised with a flint upon its walls those troublesome neighbours of his, the mammoth and the megatherium,--peers out upon us from the complex culture of the roman world in the clumsy _graffito_ of the crucifixion,--emerges in the middle ages in a turbulent growth of grotesque, wherein those grim figures of death or devil move through a maze of imagery often quaint and fantastic, sometimes obscene or terrible--takes a fresh start in the _passionals_ of lucas cranach, and can be traced in england through her rebellion and restoration up to the very confines of the eighteenth century. why, we have to ask, even granting that william hogarth's "monster caricatura" is thus omnivorous and omnipresent, does he tower aloft in some countries and under some conditions to the majesty of a new art, and in others dwindle down to puny ridicule? taking the special subject of this little volume, the eighteenth century itself, we find little to interest us in french pictorial satire until that monstrous growth of political caricature created by the revolution. italy in the same period has but little to offer us, germany as little or less; and it is to england that we must turn for the pictorial humour, whether social or political, of that interesting epoch. and this because the england of that time is a self-conscious creature, emergent from a successful struggle for freedom, and strong enough to enjoy a hearty laugh--even at her own expense. while the bastille still frowns over france, the inquisition and the jesuits are an incubus upon spain and italy, while germany is split up into little principalities, dukedoms, bishoprics, palatinates, england has already won for herself the great boon of freedom of thought, freedom of speech, freedom of religious and political opinion. the satirist could here find expression and appreciation. the birth of the pictorial satirist who is the subject of my first chapter coincides pretty closely with the creation of that _tale of a tub_, of which dean swift, in all the ripeness of his later talent, exclaimed: "good god! what genius i had when i wrote that book"; and no print from the artist's graver--even his "stages of cruelty," or his "players dressing in a barn"--could excel in coarseness of fibre the great satirist's _strephon and chloe_. the pen of swift and the graver of hogarth in the early eighteenth century found in england conditions not very dissimilar to those which awaited philipon and honoré daumier[1] in paris of the early nineteenth century--that is, a public which had come through a period of intensely active political existence to a complete and complex self-consciousness, and which enjoyed (just as in paris _la caricature_, when suppressed, found a speedy successor in _le charivari_) sufficient political freedom to render criticism a possibility. and from hogarth through sandby and sayer and woodward to henry william bunbury, and onwards to that giant of political satire, james gillray, and his vigorous contemporary thomas rowlandson, what a feast of material is spread before us; what an insight we may gain, not only into costume, manners, social life, but into the detailed political development of a fertile and fascinating period of history. in the earlier age hogarth is ready to present the very london of his time in the _levée_ and drawing-room, in the vice and extravagance of the rich, in the industrious and thriving citizen, and those lowest haunts where crime hoped to lurk undisturbed. in the century's close gillray's pencil notes every change of the political kaleidoscope. in his prints we seem almost to hear the muffled roar of the parisian mob, clamorous for more blood in those days of terror; or we watch the giant forms of pitt and buonaparte fronting each other as the strife comes nearer home to britain. to attempt within the limits of this little volume to exhaust a subject so rich in magnificent material would be obviously impossible. all that is permitted me here by imperative limits of space is a sketch, where my matter tempts me sorely to a comprehensive study. yet even the sketch may claim for itself a place beside the finished work of art, if--while omitting the detail which it was unable to include--it has yet secured for us the main outlines, the swing of the figure, the balance of light and shadow, the sweep and spacing of the horizon; just as the massed clouds in a constable study can give us as keen artistic pleasure as the "valley farm," or his "salisbury cathedral." and thus i have attempted here not so much the history of the men, the catalogue of their achieved work--interesting or valuable though such a history or catalogue might be--as to show the spirit of the age itself reflected most faithfully, even when it seems most caricatured or burlesqued, by their brush or graver or pencil; to watch the grotesque visage and ignoble form of vice traced by hogarth's genius from the homes of london's luxury to her dens of hidden crime; to study the more refined, if somewhat weaker, social satire of henry william bunbury; to admire those magnificent political cartoons of james gillray--colossal and overwhelming, even in their brutality or obscenity; and finally, to lose ourselves in the luxuriant and living growth of thomas rowlandson's pencil, recreating for us the features of an age that was, like himself, vigorous, buoyant, and expansive,--that true age of caricature, which is also known as the eighteenth century. =(illustration without caption) shrimpers.= ii the comedy of vice the eighteenth century, which was to witness the magnificent and, in its own way, unequalled achievement of english art in the paintings of reynolds, romney, gainsborough, hoppner; in the engravings of bartolozzi, dalton, john raphael smith, and william henry ryland; in the caricatures, which we have just noted, of bunbury, rowlandson, and gillray, was to open, not inappropriately, with the appearance and speedy recognition of a very individual and very characteristic genius--with the pictured comedies of william hogarth. a first survey of my subject led me for a moment to doubt how far my title would cover the creations of that incomparable humourist. he is, indeed, more than caricaturist in the sense in which we shall use this term of his artistic successors. his pictured moralities teem with portraits drawn from the very life. he is a satirist, as mordant and merciless as juvenal, or, in his own day, the terrible dean of st. patrick's; from his house in leicester fields he looks out upon the london of his day, and probes with his remorseless brush or graver to the hidden roots of its follies, its vices, and crimes. "he may be said to have created," says one of his early biographers,[2] "a new species of painting, which may be termed the _moral comic_;" meaning, thereby, that the instinctive humour of the man's art is generally (not, as we shall see, always) directed to some moral purpose, some lesson of conduct to be thence derived. that is just where hogarth connects himself, inevitably and intimately, with the puritan england which had preceded him. not for nothing had that century, into whose last years he was born, seen the great uprising of puritan england,--the struggle for civil and political liberty, and its achievement,--the ironsides of cromwell with bible and uplifted sword. that intensity of moral and spiritual conviction, that earnestness about life and its issues was yet in the nation's blood, and must find some outlet in the returning world of art, which its own austerity had banished; but, in another sense, mark how truly hogarth connects himself with the later caricaturists of the coming age. =_by william hogarth_ morning= beauty does not enter into his art,--most of all in that highest sense of plastic beauty of form, which the great italians had so intensely felt, which the great english school, uprising in his own day, was in some measure to recover. at most a comely buxom wench steals sometimes slyly into his canvas or copper-plate--the two servant-maids in his print of "morning" at covent garden, whom the roysterers turning out from tom king's coffee-house are kissing in the piazza; the demure and pretty miss west, looking over a joint hymn book with the amorous--but industrious--apprentice; or that coy minx--most delicious of them all--who has just dozed off amid "the sleeping congregation," with her prayer-book opened at the fascinating page of matrimony, and to whose luxuriant charms of face and form the eyes of the fat old clerk are stealthily directed. to hogarth these are the incidents, not the inspiration, of his art. lavater, that keen observer, aimed near to the mark when he wrote: "_il ne faut pas attendre beaucoup de noblesse de hogarth. le vrai beau n'étoit guère à la portée de ce peintre._" it is, indeed, one of the unconscious ironies of art history that the artist, whose work shows least of its influence or attraction, should have devoted the one offspring of his pen to an analysis of beauty. but it is when we turn to the humour of life, even in its most sordid tragedies, that his real strength appears. "_quelle richesse inexprimable_"--says lavater again, and no less justly--"_dans les scènes comiques ou morales de la vie_." none like hogarth has characterised "the lowest types of modern humanity, has better depicted the drunken habits of the dregs of the people, the follies of life, and the horrors of vice." and it is just here, as i have hinted, that hogarth connects himself with the later caricaturists. it were quite possible to treat a purely moral story, such as that of "the industrious and the idle apprentice," in a purely moral sentiment; but this is just what our artist cannot bring himself to do. he must have that touch of nature, and of humour, which makes the whole world kin. he must introduce the quarrelling cat and dog into the office scene between west and goodchild, or the feline visitant whose apparition through the chimney disturbs thomas idle's unhallowed slumbers; he must accentuate the gormandising guests in the sheriff's banquet, and the humours of the crowd even in a tyburn execution. and in other subjects--where the moral lesson is either absent or less intrusive--the man's fancy runs absolutely riot in humorous observation. "the distressed poet," with the baby squalling in his bed, the poor wife stitching at his solitary pair of breeches, and a strapping milkmaid clamouring for payment of her account; "the enraged musician," with every conceivable pandemonium of noise congregated beneath his window; above all, "the sleeping congregation," collected in a conventicle of very early georgian design, and unanimously occupied in carrying out the precept of their reverend pastor's text, "come unto me ... and i will give rest"--save only those two vigilant old ladies, perhaps pillars of the edifice, and the clerk to whose interest in the sleeping nymph of the next pew i have already alluded--are studies in pure humour. =_by william hogarth_ the distrest poet= but to multiply examples of hogarth's humour would come very near to cataloguing his every work. let us turn now from that work to the man himself, and study something of those conditions of life of which his genius gives us our most vivid impress. william hogarth was born in 1697 or 1698, in london, but of a westmorland family (hoggard would seem to have been the earlier spelling), one member of which, the artist's father, after working as a schoolmaster in westmorland, had settled in london as corrector of the press. he must have been a man of some education, since we hear of a latin-english dictionary of his composition, though there seems some uncertainty as to whether it ever got beyond the initial stage of ms.; and his son william was early in life bound 'prentice to a silversmith named gamble, his business being to learn the graving of arms and ciphers upon plate. his marvellous gift for caricature soon showed itself; and a tavern quarrel at highgate seems to have afforded subject for an early manifestation of his talent in this direction. as the period of his 'prenticeship came to its close he entered an academy of drawing in st. martin's lane, where he may have come under sir james thornhill's notice; but seems to have failed to show any exceptional proficiency in his life studies. form, we have seen already, lay outside--in certain manifestations entirely outside--the peculiar limits of his temperament. shop-bills and coats-of-arms were probably the mainstay of his livelihood at this period, though plates for books were beginning, little by little, to come in his way; but when in 1730 he clandestinely married the daughter of sir james thornhill, the court painter was so incensed at this _mèsalliance_ that he refused the young couple any acknowledgment. it was at this very time that hogarth created his first work of individual genius in that superb series of plates to which he gave the name of "the harlot's progress"; and it is said that lady thornhill designedly placed one of the plates in her husband's way, only to elicit the grudging praise of: "the man who can produce these can also maintain a wife without a portion." but the ice was broken, and the ensuing thaw led to a complete reconciliation. sir james thornhill treated his daughter and son-in-law more generously, and lived with them in future till his death in 1733. at the same time the series which had brought about domestic reconciliation, had also brought fame and fortune to the artist. the third scene of the progress, in which the erring girl is arrested, contained, it would seem, a clever portrait of sir james gonson, a magistrate whose energies were famous in this direction. the print is passed around at a meeting of the board of treasury, at which sir james is present; every lord must repair to the print-shop, to obtain for himself a copy; the vogue was started, and twelve hundred subscribers entered their names for the series, the price of each set being one guinea. william hogarth was now well started in his career of fame; and deservedly so, for in some respects "the harlot's progress" is one of the most characteristic and the most brilliant of his creations. its popularity was immense and instantaneous; it was played in pantomime, and reproduced on ladies' fans. but if he did not surpass the genius of his first invention he certainly came very close to it, both in the "rake's progress" and in his "marriage à la mode." each of these series, as well as that of the "industrious and idle 'prentices" are complete stories, worked out to their _dénoûment_-tragedies, one might say, written with a burlesque pencil, of eighteenth-century life. and if the note struck seem sometimes too insistent, if the industrious one be too sleek, too self-complacent, the prodigal too immersed in sensual folly and indulgence; if the blacks seem too black, and the whites too white, and those half-tones which accord the values of life be generally missing; if a more refined age demands a subtler analysis, a more artistic treatment, can we yet deny the truth and necessity of the eternal lesson? have we yet reached, or shall we ever reach, an age in which ineptitude, insolence, idleness, fail to work out their inevitable resultant? or is it less true for us than for those earlier ages--the message which the writer of that magnificent thirty-eighth psalm reiterates, as though he would drive deep into our souls its lasting verity. "_put thou thy trust in the lord and be doing good; dwell in the land and verily thou shall be fed. delight thou in the lord; and he shall give thee thy heart's desire.... yet a little while and the ungodly shall be clean gone ... the lord shall laugh him to scorn, for he hath seen that his day is coming._" just as insistent, just as certain of his concluding verdict as the psalmist is the eighteenth-century engraver and humorist. even his own day may already have seen "the ungodly" set high above men in social position, quoted with respect in financial circles, perhaps even a regular attendant at the local conventicle,--"flourishing," in short, to quote that inimitable phrase of the same psalmist, "like a green bay-tree"; but he, at least will admit no doubt of the ultimate conclusion. "in all his delineation," says mr. austin dobson,[3] with fine insight, "as in that famous design of prudhon, we see justice and vengeance following hard upon the criminal. he knew, no doubt, as well as we, that not seldom (humanly speaking) the innocent are punished and the guilty go at large. what matter! that message should not be preached by him at any rate. so he drew his 'bogey' bigger ... and drove his graver deeper in the copper." yet it is to be noted that from the first his genius is attracted to social satire. the _masquerades and operas, burlington gate_, 1724 (which he calls in his own notes _the taste of the times_)--the first plate which he published on his own account,--was popular enough to be freely pirated. "the wanstead assembly" brings him close to the later caricaturists; "the burning of rumps" shows us a london crowd beside old temple bar, with its ghastly trophies of jacobite relics; and all these lead up to his later success in the two progresses and the marriage series. in 1733 he had settled in his house in leicester fields, with its gilt sign of the golden head--the sign which he had fashioned and gilded himself, in the similitude of the painter van dyck; and here the most of his life was to be spent, varied by visits in later years to the villa which he then acquired at chiswick. he is now fairly facing his life work, and a brief survey of this is all we can hope to attempt in the limits of this chapter. i have already mentioned "the harlot's progress," and its immediate successor, "the rake's progress," the subjects of which speak for themselves. the country maiden's arrival in london, the breakfast scene with her jewish admirer, and the scene in bridewell are to be noted among the prints of the first series; but all are full of character and interest. in "the rake's progress" the second plate introduces us to a side of hogarth's talent which he was to develop later on more fully in his "marriage à la mode"--namely, his satire of eighteenth-century life of fashion. the awkward youth who in the plate before had come into his fortune is now in the full of its enjoyment: become a fine gentleman, he holds his morning _levée_ of those numerous parasites who minister to his vanity or pleasure. the foreign element (which hogarth in his heart detested) is here to the front in the figure of the french dancing-master, trying a new step, with the fiddle in his hand; behind him the _maître d'armes_, dubois, is making a lunge with his _epée de combat_, while figg, a noted english prize-fighter, watches his movements with an expression of contempt. another portrait is bridgman, a well-known landscape gardener of the time, who is proposing to our young hero some scheme for his estate; while the seated and periwigged figure who runs his fingers over the harpsichord has been suggested as that of the great composer handel. but when we start forth to knock down the watch, "beat the rounds," intrigue with the fair, and generally keep up the character of a young blood or "macaroni," a little timely assistance is often welcome; and is here proffered (with hope of due remuneration) by the villainous-looking figure on the prodigal's left, whose recommendation is seen in the letter he presents: "the capt. is a man of honour, his sword may serve you." meanwhile, a jockey holds before his master the cup he has won; and a tame poet in the corner seems to be invoking the muses in unmerited praise of the same patron. =_by william hogarth_ marriage à la mode plate ii= in his next plate hogarth passes to a scene of indescribable orgy; but all this satire on fashionable extravagance, which we have just noted in detail, is still more fully developed in his masterly series of "marriage à la mode." hogarth's oil paintings of this complete series are in the london national gallery, and it is instructive to compare these with the prints, the two first pictures of the series being especially attractive in treatment. the second of these, representing the morning, when husband and wife awake to _ennui_ from a night of dissipation, is peculiarly happy in spacing and composition, as my illustration may show; while plate iv. of this series, showing a reception of the countess while at her toilet, gives an opening for a clever satire by our artist of the fashionable society of his day, which is as brilliant as any venetian scene by longhi, and the ensuing plates point the sequel to a life of folly. nor has the artist forgotten here to give a side blow to the foreign element--which aroused his hostility, from the french dancing-master or _perruquier_ to the great italian masters--correggio's "jupiter and io" finding a place on the walls of her ladyship's bedroom, just as the "choice of paris" had been included in the rake's _levée_; and we shall note very soon that these allusions were not incidental, but far more probably intended. for hogarth had now in these three series attained a reputation which he probably increased by his delightful studies of pure humour, among which "modern midnight conversation," "the sleeping congregation," "strolling players in a barn," "the laughing audience," "the enraged musician," and "the distressed poet" are to be especially commended, as well as that fine series of "the four times of the day," in which last "morning" (of which i am able to give an illustration) is certainly a masterpiece. his estimate of his own powers had increased, and now led him to leave that path in which his genius had already found its intimate expression, and to seek to become that which he was not and never could be--a great imaginative and historical painter. without ever having really studied the great masters of the past, without comprehending either their merits or demerits, he declared that it were an easy task for him to surpass even correggio on his own ground: the result was, if not disaster, at least something very near to it. the "sigismunda," which he had painted with the above object, was returned on his hands by the purchaser. it hangs now, indeed, in the national gallery, but i do not imagine many serious critics will prefer it to the marvellous _chiaroscuro_, the refined ideal beauty of the master of parma. yet that delicious "shrimp girl" which hangs near it, painted with almost a fragonard's gaiety of palette, shows what our artist might have achieved had he gone, like morland, for his subjects to the common life of his own country. the staircase paintings of st. bartholomew's hospital are not likely, i think, to induce us to revise the above opinion; and sir joshua's criticism is here so apposite and so just that i need no excuse for quoting it in some detail. "after this admirable artist had spent the greater part of his life in an active, busy, and, we may add, successful attention to the ridicule of life; after he had invented a new species of dramatic painting in which probably he will never be equalled; and had stored his mind with infinite materials to explain and illustrate the domestic and familiar scenes of common life which were generally, and ought to have been always, the subject of his pencil,--he very imprudently, or rather presumptuously, attempted the great historical style, for which his previous habits had by no means prepared him: he was indeed so unacquainted with the principles of this style that he was not even aware that any artificial preparation was necessary. it is to be regretted that any part of the life of such a genius should be fruitlessly employed." this criticism, which is all the more telling from its reticence, was keenly felt, and probably never forgiven, by our artist; to us it is of value critically as marking the cleavage between himself and the great english school of the eighteenth century, which sought its inspiration otherwise than in his comedy of life. but with a tenacity, with a stubborn faith in his genius which we cannot but admire, he holds firm to his own view of art. that is in the character of the man--sound, honest, sincere even where he is mistaken or narrow--just as we see him in his _self-portrait_ of the london gallery, with his faithful "trump" sitting in front, as who should say, "this is my master, hogarth--and let me just see the dog who will dare bark at him." and so when his critics barked or railed he held but the more stubbornly to his opinion; he rated the more mercilessly those "black masters," whose faults or whose supreme genius it needed a deeper study than he had given them to understand; and when "sigismunda," that was to rival allegri, comes back upon his hands he prices it obstinately at £400, even in his will insisting that it should not be sold below that sum. but now, not content with attempting to eclipse the great italian masters, not content with quarrelling with the critics, in the same reckless confidence, with the same bull-dog courage and tenacity he will descend from his artistic charger to meet these last upon their own ground, and armed only with those weapons so dear to them, but new to his untried hands--the goose quill and the ink bottle--will tear down the veil that conceals beauty, and teach them what in future to write, what to select, what to admire! i am treating in this chapter william hogarth as a delineator of the comedy of life, not as an art critic, nor as a philosopher; and it is not my painful duty to drag the gentle reader through the verbose preface to a no less verbose introduction, to find ourselves at the end of these still in front of the author's main problem of the "analysis of beauty." the work probably suffered from the presence of more than one obliging literary--or would-be literary--friend. we hear of a mr. ralph, from chiswick, volunteering his services in this direction, of a mr. nichols following him; and of the rev. mr. townley being much busied on that preface, wherein lomazzo rubs shoulders with michelangelo and protogenes, and where the modern mortal hears with astonishment of "the sublime part which is a real _je ne sçai quoi_," and which, "being the most important part to all connoisseurs, i shall call a harmonious propriety, which is a touching or moving unity, or a pathetic agreement, &c." but it would be unfair to judge the analysis by this preface, which admittedly befogged even poor hogarth himself. suffice to say here that he seeks to divide his elusive element, which might have defied even the dialectic of socrates, into its "principles of fullness, variety, uniformity, simplicity, intricacy, and quantity; _all which co-operate in the production of beauty, mutually correcting, and restraining each other occasionally_"; and that the essay, even if entirely inadequate as a philosophical treatment of the subject, contains many useful suggestions and shrewd observations. it had been enough surely for one short life-time to have been the greatest pictorial humorist of his age, to have tried to climb above allegri and titian, and to have traced in thought beauty's self to her hidden source; but behold our ill-judged artist plunging now, with equal assurance and courage, into that tumultuous sea of english eighteenth-century political strife. the result was this time fatal to his peace, and probably even to his life. john wilkes was not a very safe man to attack carelessly, nor yet likely to remain quiescent under this treatment; and hogarth's print of the "times," published in september of 1762, provoked a very savage rejoinder in no. 17 of the _north briton_. hogarth's reply was a caricature of the popular leader; who then engaged one of his supporters, named churchill, to retaliate in an angry epistle to the artist. hogarth again replies with the graver--that terrible weapon in his practised hands--and draws a portrait of "the bruiser, once the reverend churchill," shown in the form of a dancing bear, with club plastered with lies, and a tankard of porter at his side. "never," says one of his earlier critics, "did two angry men with their abilities throw mud with less dexterity; but during this period of pictorial and poetic warfare (so virulent and disgraceful to all the parties) hogarth's health declined visibly." a presentiment of his end seems to have come to him at his own table among his friends, and he said to them: "my next undertaking shall be the 'end of all things.'" the next day his graver was already busy with the strange plate which he called "the bathos," where father time is seen dying, his broken scythe and hour-glass beside him, amid a chaos of ruin all around. this was actually his last work, for a month later, on the 28th of october, 1764, having returned in weak health from chiswick to his house in leicester fields, he died suddenly of an aneurysm on his chest. his tomb at chiswick, where his widow came to join him twenty-five years later (in 1789), was adorned in relief with the mask of comedy, the wreath of laurel, the palette and the book on beauty; and it was his friend garrick who is said to have composed those lines of his epitaph, with which we too may take our farewell of the great artist of comedy: "... whose pictur'd morals charm the mind, and through the eye correct the heart. if genius fire thee, reader, stay; if nature touch thee, drop a tear; if neither move thee, turn away, for hogarth's honoured dust lies here." iii the comedy of society in the work of henry william bunbury we strike an entirely different note to that of the artist we have just studied. the contrast is, in its way, refreshing as well as instructive. just as hogarth appears (b. 1698) at almost the first years of the eighteenth century, so bunbury dates (b. 1750) from exactly its dividing year; therefore he belongs no longer to those days of swift and bolingbroke and walpole, of jacobite intrigue and hanoverian power, but to the period of the american war, and those ominous thunderclouds preceding the french revolution. again, just as william hogarth belongs entirely to the people, and shares profoundly both their best and worst qualities, so the artist we are now considering belongs no less definitely to the aristocratic class--is a member of a suffolk family which dated its english origin to the conquest, which had gained its knighthood from queen elizabeth, and its baronetcy from the merry monarch; and had himself in his younger days made the "grand tour" of france and italy, and later held a commission in his majesty's militia, and the post of equerry to the duke of york. "something of the amateur"--i have written elsewhere[4]--"remains through all the work of bunbury, who left politics practically out of his field of subjects, and whose social qualities were one of his greatest charms. he married catherine horneck, whose sister mary had been painted--and, it is said, proposed to--by sir joshua reynolds, who had elsewhere painted these two pretty women together; and when he settled in the country with his young wife, his circle of friends came to include oliver goldsmith, the actor garrick, hoppner, and sir joshua--the latter being godfather to his second son, henry, and painting his eldest as master bunbury in 1781--and last, but not least, dr. samuel johnson." the great doctor had in fact presented to the young couple their family bible--a fact which is recorded upon the fly-leaf in our artist's own handwriting. of the two sons that were born to henry and catherine bunbury, their special hopes seem to have centred on the eldest, charles john, the lovely child for whom sir joshua himself had improvised fairy tales to keep him amused while busy on his portrait; but those hopes were not fulfilled, for his manhood did not bear out the promise of his schooldays, and he died comparatively early. bunbury's caricatures commence as early as his foreign tour, though some of the best refer to his later military life in england; especially to the time when he was in camp at coxheath, during the troubled days of the american war. for we have now left far behind the days of swift and bolingbroke and oxford, of marlborough's battles, and of the great political settlement which marked the hanoverian succession. dettingen and fontenoy are now old soldiers' tales, and the invasion of england by charles stuart, the younger pretender--in which connection we may remember hogarth's print of the march of the guards to finchley--lies equally behind us: we have passed through the long ministry of walpole and that of the elder pitt, we have seen the war with france, and been stirred by wolfe's victory and heroic death upon the heights of abraham. in a word, we have turned the corner with the year of our artist's birth, and are going downwards into the latter half of the eighteenth century. george iii. has now taken his father's place upon the throne of england: the tories have returned again to be a power in political life as in the days of bolingbroke, and against the "king's friends," the party subservient to court influence, there appears in the nation a very strong democratic movement with john wilkes as its leader and idol. meanwhile the fatal policy of grenville had led to the alienation of the great american colonies, and the passing of the stamp act in 1765 brought a complete rupture. but this phase of politics enters but little into our present subject. it is of more interest to inquire, apart from this complex turbulent world of home or foreign politics, what were the people themselves in their home life, their outdoor life, their tastes, aspirations, sympathies, social surroundings? i think we shall get an answer to some of these questions--an answer none the less valuable because it comes to us indirectly--from the study of henry william bunbury's social caricatures. these appear to commence with (or are in some special cases even earlier than) his grand tour. the delightful "courier françois"--published by bretherton at 134 new bond st.--belongs surely to this period; and thomas wright, in his valuable "history of caricature,"[5] seems to bear this out when he says of bunbury that his earlier prints were etched and sold by james bretherton, who published also the works of james sayer--an artist whom we shall meet in our next chapter. in this print the "courier" cracks a long whip as he covers the ground, mounted upon a steed almost as long, as tough and wiry-looking as himself. a short sword is at his side, and he wears enormous jack-boots. in the distance rise peaked mountains, perhaps those of southern france or savoy; and the inn to which he seems bound bears the legend, _poste royale_, with the three _fleur-de-lys_. our courier belongs evidently to the _ancien règime_, and might indeed have stepped--or galloped--to us out of sterne's "sentimental journey." the drawing of these prints is clumsy and coarse in technique, though full of character; and, in fact, bunbury, who seems to have begun to publish as early as 1771,[6] when he was only twenty-one years of age, had little knowledge or skill in engraving, and seems, after some preliminary efforts which were not very successful, to have entrusted the most of his work to be engraved by other hands. thus james bretherton, who was an engraver as well as a publisher, was engaged on bunbury's prints from 1772 onwards; though later we shall find rowlandson working as an engraver on bunbury's humorous sketches, and necessarily, from his strong individuality, imparting to them much of his own character. the pendant to the print just described is the "courrier anglois," and this was in fact both engraved and published by bretherton in 1774 (it bears the inscription, _h. w. bunbury, delineavit; j. bretherton, fecit_). in fine contrast to the hurry of the lean frenchman his english counterpart ambles leisurely along, as if time were for him a matter of entire indifference; his horse is loaded with a heavy pack, against which the rider comfortably leans, while he puts a long horn to his lips. he has no sword, or any weapon of defence; but the two grisly figures by the roadside dangling on a gibbet, and his own inimitable expression of contented ease, seem to imply that travelling is secure for him, and justice prompt and keen-eyed. to this period of the grand tour belong also, in my judgment, the "tour to foreign parts" (drawn by bunbury, engraved by bretherton, published in 1799 by j. harris of cornhill), the "cuisine de la poste," or "the kitchen of a french post house" (_h. bunbury, invt._, published 1771 by harris), "the englishman at paris," 1767, the earliest in date of these (_mr. bunbury, del.; js. bretherton, fecit_, published 1799 by j. harris), and lastly the "view on the pont neuf at paris" (_h. w. bunbury, invt._ the engraver's name, in my example, is cut). these prints are as precious in their detailed evidence of costume and methods of life as they are amusing. they are snapshots caught--not with a camera, but with an eye and pencil which were almost as quick--of the life of that old monarchic france as it was seen by the english traveller, posting along the great high-roads, or taking his walk through the town. soon, very soon, all that life was to be swept away in the hurricane of political passion, never in any of its quainter features to return; that is why these jottings of our artist are to the student of this period so inestimably precious. our travellers, three in number, and evidently portrayed from the life, have just descended ("a tour in foreign parts") from the two-horse chaise, which the postilion is driving into the yard. the smallest of the three englishmen, with "chesterfield's letters" under his arm, approaches the obsequious host of the "poste royale" with a conciliatory smile; the while the landlady is engaged in an assault upon her hen-roost, and the servant-girl seems to aim at a similar result with the domestic cats. and now ("la cuisine de la poste") we are introduced to the interior. the _pot-au-feu_ hangs in the great chimney over the blazing logs; the village gossips are there--the postilion in his clumsy jack-boots, the housewife, and the curé with a friend sipping his glass of red wine--and on the walls _louis le bien-aimé_, with baton and perruque, is balanced by _sanctus paulus_, with a sword much bigger than himself, or by the "ordonnances de monsieur le duc de choiseul, grand maître des postes et relais de france." or, again, our travellers have arrived at last in the great city ("englishman at paris"), and take their walk in the streets of _la ville lumiére_. a fat monk and a thin peasant seem both to regard our tourist with astonishment; a dandy of the period is driving his chariot with a lackey hanging on behind, and the indispensable _perruquier_ is hurrying to an appointment. or--in its way most curious of all--we see the pont neuf of those old days, with the costumes and characters which then thronged its thoroughfare. huge muffs seem to have been then the fashion, often combined in use with umbrellas, such as we now should call japanese sunshades; the _perruquier_ here, too, must have his muff, though both hands are filled with the shaving-pot and curling tongs; the trim abbé in his short cassock, even the truculent-looking postilion are all provided. in the corner a poodle is being clipped, just as we may see to-day beside the seine, and is loudly vociferating his complaints; and, above all, we see the quaint ensign of the trade, which combined the shoeblack's lower art with that of the dog-barber. _aux quarante lions st. louis décrotte à l'anglaise et tond des chiens proprement allons, messeigneurs, allons._ we must turn now to our artist's later prints of english eighteenth-century social life, which are as full of humorous observation, even though they have not the special interest of these notes on old france. for, like collet and sandby, his predecessors in english caricature, bunbury gave but little attention to political caricature. sandby belongs almost (b. 1725) to the later years of hogarth's ascendency; and, though not a professional caricaturist, being perhaps annoyed at that artist's depreciation of other painters, many of his caricatures are directed against hogarth himself. but sandby's best claim to our interest lies outside our present subject; for his landscape work in steel engraving, in aquatint and oil-colour, had led him up to the discovery of the beauty and interest of water-colour painting, in which art he may claim to be a pioneer. he outlived john collet, who had been born in the same year (1725) as himself, and is said to have been a pupil of hogarth, though lambert, a landscape-painter, is mentioned as giving him his first instructions. certainly there is something which recalls hogarth in his drawings, which deal, as i have said, with social satire rather than politics. "a disaster" treats of a lady who has lost both hat and wig together by the same gust of wind; her footman behind has caught one of these in each hand, and the rustics, who have preserved nature's covering, laugh at her plight. collet's picture of "father paul in his cups, or the private devotions of a convent," was one of a series by our artist intended to illustrate sheridan's comedy of "the duenna," produced in 1775. this was close upon the period of lord gordon's riots (1780), and the "no popery" feeling which then prevailed finds illustration in this work of collet's. like sandby, he worked also in water-colour, and two of his sketches in this medium are mentioned by bryan as in the victoria and albert museum. we have now returned with bunbury from his "grand tour" abroad, and have to study him at his best in his sketches of english social life in town and country. he was probably himself a good horseman, and at any rate understood, as thoroughly as even caran d'ache himself, the humorous side of the equestrian art. a whole series of his smaller prints deal with the rider and his steed. "how to pass a carriage," "how to lose your way," "how to travel on two legs in a frost," are among the best of these. another clever print shows the rider of a pulling animal with a mouth of cast-iron just clearing an old woman's barrow; while among the larger prints we have "richmond hill," "hyde park," "coxheath ho," and "warley ho," and his inimitable print of a "riding house," published by bretherton in 1780. bunbury's caricatures of military subjects naturally connect themselves with the period when he was actively connected with the suffolk county militia, more especially when, in 1778, he was in camp at coxheath at the time of the war in america. "recruits," of which i give an illustration, may be included among these, as well as the "militia meeting" and "the deserter," while "a visit to the camp" and "a camp scene" belong to the same class of subject. the characterisation of "recruits" is excellent, from the smart young officer to the rustic awkwardness of the two recruits, and the more dangerous self-approval of the third; behind we see a chawbacon grinning at the scene, beneath the portentous sign of "the old fortune," with its painting of a wooden-legged and armless veteran. "a visit to the camp" gives just such a scene--save that the characters are in eighteenth-century costume--as might be witnessed even to-day, when parents, aunts and cousins visit their young hopeful amid the martial surroundings of his volunteer camp; and here, too, may be mentioned a series of single figures in military costume--a "life-guardsman," "light infantryman," "light-horseman" and a "foot-soldier." these were all published by macklin. the foot-soldier's uniform appears in "recruits"; the handsome uniform of the light-horseman, with its plumed helmet and high boots, in "a visit to the camp," and again in "the deserter." while bunbury was thus occupied with his military career his wife, whom he had left in lodgings in pall mall, gave him their second son, to whom sir joshua reynolds stood godfather. is it too much to suggest that this latter is the artist caricatured in that delightful "family piece," of which i also hope to give an illustration; and which may have been suggested to our artist by the scene in his friend oliver goldsmith's masterpiece, "the vicar of wakefield"? to the next period of bunbury's life--when war's alarms were over and the camp at coxheath broken up--belong many of his best prints of english country life. he was living now in suffolk, and his print of the "country club" is said to have depicted to the life an institution of that nature in quiet old bury st. edmunds; while "conversazione" and the "sulky club" display the social efforts of the period, and his famous "barber's shop," which knight engraved in 1783, comes into this part of his career. =_by h. w. bunbury_ the family piece= to his visits to the west of england and north wales about this time we owe some charming sketches--the two "wynnstay theatre tickets," for instance, dating from some visit to sir watkin williams wynn when theatricals were in the air at wynnstay, and that lovely print of "the modern graces," drawn, it is said, from the three beautiful misses shakespere during the stay of our artist at aston; while those two prints of "peasants from the vale of llangollen" hint at some pleasant ramble in the welsh hills. bunbury excelled, in fact, in a class of subject which does not strictly fall within our notice, since we are treating him here as a caricaturist, but which must by no means be neglected by those who appreciate his work. these are what may be characterised as fancy sketches, which are often, in his hand, singularly graceful and charming in treatment and conception. "the song," "the dance," and "morning employments" may be mentioned especially among these, all these three having been entrusted to the graver of the famous bartolozzi. indeed, in writing of bartolozzi,[7] i found it impossible to leave bunbury out of my subject, and said of this artist: "he supplied the engraver with some charming drawings, mostly of english girls in simple country dress--such as the 'sophia and olivia,' drawn for goldsmith's 'vicar of wakefield,' where one of the girls touches a guitar and the other holds a roll of music; or, again, that very lovely print, a copy of which is in the victoria and albert collection, where three young girls dance hand in hand to the strain which a country lad seated near them is piping. 'the song,'" i added, "a pendant to this, is no less charming." "love and honour" is another of bartolozzi's prints from bunbury, representing a light-cavalry soldier taking leave of a pretty country girl, and bearing the legend: "hark! the drum commands honour! i attend thee! love, i kiss thy hands!" "lucy of leinster" and "bothwell's lament," it may be noted, are by the same engraver. apart from its own beauty the engraving of "the dance" is of especial interest, since the three figures dancing are said to be taken from those famous beauties of the time, the misses gunning; and in his "love and hope," "love and jealousy," and a "tale of love," which bartolozzi's pupil, j. k. sherwin, engraved for him, he follows with success the same class of subject. it is the sentimental charm, which streams from the fair angelica kauffman's pencil and kept busy the best engravers of the time, notably bartolozzi, ryland, sherwin, and tomkins, which here attracts the soldier and caricaturist, who was also the devoted lover and husband; and in these prints, though the initiative and conception is certainly our artist's, it is difficult to know how much we may not owe to the practised hand of such an engraver as francesco bartolozzi. but certainly this side of art was treated by henry bunbury freely, and with marked success, and the list would be a long one if we were to attempt to chronicle all. "edwin and ethelinda," "black-eyed susan," "auld robin gray" (a charming colour-print, also engraved by bartolozzi), "adelaide in the garden" (by the same engraver), the charming "songstress," "charlotte and werther's meeting," "margaret's tomb," "the girl of snowdon," "the girl of modena," "marianna," "cicely," and that sweet "country maid" engraved by j. r. smith in 1782, and whose legend tells us: "no care but love can discompose her breast, love of all cares the sweetest and the best." his illustrations to macklin's shakespeare come nearer to our subject proper, and here we have the whole falstaff episode very fully and very humourously illustrated; while launce and his dog, whom he "would have to behave as a dog at all things," may be compared in our artist's treatment of canine life with his "black george," the suffolk gamekeeper. was it, we may here ask, in returning to the story of our artist's life, that fatal quality, the artistic temperament, or was it his charming social qualities, his frequent visits to great houses and corresponding expenses, which had brought henry bunbury at this time into financial difficulties? his military connection, which had led to his appointment as a.d.c. to the duke of york, was too important to be neglected even under these conditions. hence it is that in 1788 we find the bunburys settled in london at whitehall. our artist was now, from his court position and his own tastes, thrown into the midst of london social life; and this new life in all its features begins to reproduce itself in his caricatures. "hyde park," "the coffee house patriots," "the chop house," "richmond hill," "bethnal green," and the large print of a "fête at carlton house" (at which no doubt he was present in attendance on the duke), belong to this period of his life. bath he no doubt knew well already from his visits to the west of england, where it was at this time the great rendezvous for fashionable society; he must have himself moved in this society, and enjoyed the study of its follies and foibles, its airs and graces, which the dramatists of the time love to reproduce. for here certainly it was that he gained his inspiration for the "long minuet," as danced at bath, with its line of stately dancers and its classical inscription- "longa tysonum minuit quid velit et possit rerum concordia discors." this is one of bunbury's most famous prints; and justly so, for nothing could be truer to life, especially to eighteenth-century life, and probably to bath of the period, than these bowing and pirouetting figures. in his "lumps of pudding" we have the same theme, but treated with a coarser note; and yet some of the figures are excellent--notably the stout gentleman in the corner, who has removed his wig to mop his heated brow--the enthusiast near him who is "setting" before a dame with a three-decker and its anchor in her hair, and the group of four who are next the lady dancing with her pet dog. the "long minuet" and this last belong to that class of caricatures in which the figures form a continued story--a line of humour which the germans have developed in _fliegende blätter_, which caran d'ache has used with success in france, and which _pick-me-up_, when it was under the able direction of mr. leslie willson, scored many a good point with. =_by h. w. bunbury_ a fashionable salutation= to this class, too, belongs bunbury's famous "propagation of a lie," published in 1787. male figures only appear in this wonderful series; though (alas!) many of us have learnt from experience that the fair sex, with all its charm, is not always averse to "_broder_" the simple truth, especially when a prospect of scandal is concerned. bath, we may feel sure, would have offered in those days every facility of this nature, if required; and it may be fairly assumed that the _mise-en-scène_ for this print was the same as that of the "long minuet." from "dear me! you don't say so!" we proceed through the stages of "heigh ho!" "o fye!" "indeed!" "there now!" to that lively dandy who exclaims "ha! ha!" and that irascible old gentleman who is shaking his fist at him with the reply, "god's zounds! hold your tongue!" to the same line of social satire belong the "front, side, and back view of a modern gentleman," "sunday evening," "morning, or the man of taste," and "evening, or the man of feeling" (engraved by j. r. smith in 1781), and a "fashionable salute," called "salutation tavern," of which i give a plate from the print in my own collection. the same engraver, j. r. smith, produced bunbury's sketch of "lord derby on horseback," following the coach of the lovely miss farren,[8] which has the motto: "when i followed a lass that was froward and shy." but the "lass" in question became less shy later, and complied to his request to become countess of derby. =lord derby= "patience in a punt," one of our artist's best-known prints, was engraved by rowlandson, and has acquired a good deal of his characteristic drawing in the process; and i may mention briefly here some prints dealing with cambridge life--"the hope of the family," "admission at the university," and "pot fair, cambridge" (dated 1777), as well as a series of very interesting original etchings by our artist in the british museum collection. professor colvin tells me that a recently acquired collection there of italian prints included several by bunbury; and among these may have been "john jehu--l'inghilterra," 1772, and "the dog-barber--la francia," 1772 (a theme which we have noted in his print of the "pont neuf"), as they by their titles seem to be evidently intended for the italian market. by far the most interesting, in one way, of these etchings by our artist--which date from the beginning of his career and are often very weak in drawing--is one which shows two boys, or men, one of whom is riding a pig; and which belongs to the time when bunbury was a boy at westminster school, being thus, as i believe, his earliest existing caricature. the british museum is, in fact, very rich in bunbury's prints; and his series there of the "arabian nights" (in colour, engraved by ryder) may be noted here (the print of "morgiana's dance" being especially charming), ere we turn back to our artist's life story. in 1797 the bunburys had taken a small house at oatlands, near weybridge, to be near the duke and duchess of york, who were then residing at oatlands park; and it was here that in 1798 henry bunbury had a terrible blow, in the loss of his wife at the early age of forty-five years. the beautiful face and figure of catherine horneck had often appeared in our artist's fancy subjects; their life together seems to have been a very happy one, and we may believe that he never entirely recovered from this loss, for the next thirteen years of his life after her decease were spent by him in comparative retirement. he left oatlands, and probably also, then or later, his official post at court, and came to live in the lake country, where he had robert southey as his friend; it was at keswick that he died, in 1811, and lies buried there far away from the grave of his wife in weybridge church. his prints form a link in our knowledge of eighteenth-century social life in england which we could ill afford to lose. not always very strong in drawing, his humour is genuine, wholesome, spontaneous; his sense of beauty, in subjects outside of pure caricature, often very fascinating and refined; while in both classes of subject he remains happily free from that coarseness which disfigures to some extent the great caricaturists whom i shall treat of in my next two chapters. a charming personality--all his work seems to tell us--and a lovable man; english to the core, in the best sense, fond of his home, fond of outdoor life, fond of his joke, but a joke whose laughter has no bitterness or malice, and leaves no bad taste behind. ="lumps of delight" by h. w. bunbury= ="lumps of pudding" by h. w. bunbury= iv the comedy of politics in treating here of english eighteenth-century caricature, i find that the conditions of space at my command in this work compel me, in order to do my subject any justice at all, to focus my reader's interest on certain central figures, who typify, each in themselves, one side or other of their art; and to pass by more slightly some of the lesser men, whose interest is either divided or secondary. such a towering personality in caricature as james gillray comes necessarily into the first of these categories; such draughtsmen as woodward or sayer into the second. woodward comes near to bunbury in style and subject, and like him seems to have preferred social satire, though occasionally--as in his "general complaint," of 1796--he touches political topics of the time. sayer, belonging to the period of gillray, is, like him, essentially a political caricaturist. james sayer was the son of a merchant captain, and had been put to the profession of attorney: but caricature attracted him more than law, and, having gained the notice and interest of the younger pitt, he attached himself to his service with such industry and success that charles james fox is said to have remarked that sayers' caricatures had cost him more votes than all the speeches in the house of commons. in fact, just as certain modern english politicians,--lord palmerston in earlier days, and, in later, mr. gladstone and mr. joseph chamberlain--seem to have been singled out (a compliment this to the public interest in their personality) as especial targets for the caricaturist's shaft, so fox was throughout the object of sayer's constant devotion. his first effort was directed against the rockingham ministry of 1782; but far happier was his "paradise lost," published on the fall of that administration, which shows the once happy pair, fox and burke, turned away from their previous paradise, the treasury, over whose gate appears the menacing head of lord shelburne--who succeeded them at the head of the cabinet, pitt being chancellor of the exchequer--with others of his ministerial colleagues above ... ... "the gate with dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon; the world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and providence their guide." james gillray made his entry into english political caricature almost at the same date as sayer--namely in 1782--with his caricatures on the subject of rodney's naval victory. his father was of scotch descent, and having been wounded as a soldier at the battle of fontenoy--where he lost his arm--he became in later life an out-pensioner of chelsea hospital; so that it was in chelsea that james, his son, was born. like william hogarth he too was put in his early years to letter engraving; but, becoming tired of this rather dull employment, he ran away and joined a company of strolling players, sharing in the hardships and adventures of their roving life, perhaps taking part in such scenes as hogarth had depicted in his famous print, where the company have successfully "stormed" their barn and are getting ready--dressing-rooms being at a discount--for the next performance. but gillray's bent towards the plastic arts must have been too strong to let him remain long in the theatre: when he returned to london he became a student of the royal academy, and seems to have worked hard at improving his drawing. he also studied under the engraver bartolozzi; and the result of his training begins to show itself in his engravings of "the deserted village" and "the village train," published in 1784 to illustrate goldsmith's poem, and in his imitations of drawings by lavinia, countess spencer. but, though successful as an engraver, and even as a painter, it was as a caricaturist that he was destined to win his lasting fame. here his individuality came at once to the front; though even when a professional caricaturist he continued the practice of engraving and painting, as his portraits of william pitt and numerous engravings bear witness. the political history of england was then approaching a most dramatic epoch, and this--even apart from gillray's marvellous natural aptitude in this direction--might well have tempted him to choose politics as his special subject. the french and american wars had scarcely yet left men's memories; a king was on the throne who had joined to no great political sagacity or insight a stubborn determination to govern; and the clash of political issues, the struggle of the two great traditional english parties, was intensified and rendered more brilliant by the figures of famous statesmen or orators--such as pitt, fox, burke, and sheridan, and, but in a lesser degree, thurlow and shelburne. but yet further, before this very generation the tremendous and (as we shall see it to have been) world-absorbing spectacle of the french revolution was to unrol itself, touching every individual in his most intimate interests and convictions, awaking everywhere feelings of passionate enthusiasm, or of corresponding hatred; and then, gradually, out of that sea of blood which we know in history as the terror, the sinister form of buonaparte, general, consul, dictator, emperor, came to detach itself, to blot out all lesser figures, to become a menace to the world. all this had passed before the eyes of gillray and his fellow-countrymen. he saw the thundercloud arise that was to darken the horizon. he saw the energy and genius of pitt create one coalition after another, only to find them melt away before the victorious armies of france. he saw at length--and his trumpet-call at that crisis gave no uncertain sound--england stand alone, and find in herself the forces that were to bring her safely through the storm. we have noted already sayers' caricature of the triumph of the shelburne ministry in 1782; a print which had been followed by his still more clever satire--called "carlo khan's triumphant entry into leadenhall street"--on fox's india bill of 1783. in that same year shelburne's ministry had been overthrown, and fox and burke came back into office with lord north. against these statesmen, whether in or out of office, gillray's pencil became largely employed, though he was never a hired caricaturist or kept in fee like sayer, and all sides of politics (including the court and even the king himself) felt the edge of his satire; while lord thurlow, the great lord chancellor, was in no way neglected. thus we find a "new way to pay the national debt" (1786), "ancient music" (1787), "monstrous craws" (1787), "frying sprats" (1791) and "anti-saccharites, or john bull and his family leaving off the use of sugar" (1792), are all directed against the reigning house, and allude frequently to the parsimonious habits of george iii. and his queen. the story goes that this monarch, having remarked of gillray's drawings, "i don't understand these caricatures," the artist drew him ("a connoisseur examining a cooper," 1792) studying minutely with a glass the miniature of oliver cromwell, remarking at the time: "i wonder if the royal connoisseur will understand this?" but if the economy of the king was a subject for his satire, the opposite qualities in the prince of wales met with as little mercy. "the voluptuary under the horrors of digestion" (1792) gives a very clever treatment of this latter theme; and in a "morning after marriage, or a scene upon the continent," we seem to find the same distinguished person, with a lady who may be the charming mrs. fitzherbert. about this period, too, lord thurlow, in a "westminster hunt" (1788) and "market day" (also 1788, where the motto, "every man his price," seems aimed at the fat kine of the house of commons), is not forgotten; while in "dido forsaken," where the queen of france stands deserted and desperate on her own shores, and fox and his friends in a row-boat are steering for dover castle with the remark, "i never saw her in my life!" ("no! never in his life, damme!" adds fox at the rudder), we seem to be already getting drawn into the mäelstrom of the french revolution. perhaps to the average student the period of gillray's work which we are here approaching will be of most interest, because a fairly exact knowledge of english party politics is necessary to follow with enjoyment his earlier prints on home affairs. gillray had treated a french subject with success in his amusing "landing of sir john bull and his family at boulogne-sur-mer," which recalls bunbury to our thought both in its humour and treatment. this latter artist had thoroughly appreciated james gillray's genius, and said of his great contemporary that "he was a living folio, every page of which abounded with wit." following the order of time, which is perhaps our safest guide, "the bengal levée" is a large print, full of clever portraits, "made on the spot by an amateur"; and "the dagger scene, or the plot discovered," is a political print which must not be omitted. but now we find ourselves suddenly launched into the midst of the french revolution in "french liberty and british slavery" (showing a starving jacobin praising his own government, and a fat john bull at dinner abusing his); and "sansculottes feeding europe with the bread of liberty," this latter a most inimitably clever print, whose centre is formed by john bull, with fox and a sympathiser administering the bread of liberty on the dagger's point, while germany, holland, and italy are at the corners.[9] gillray had already, as we see here, taken a strongly anti-french attitude, which he never altered, and which, no doubt, faithfully reflected the mass of english public opinion, horrified at the excesses with which paris had in those days sullied the pure name of liberty. i say advisedly the mass, for charles james fox next appears in "dumourier dining in state at st. james's" (1793), serving up to the french general the head of pitt upon a dish, with the british crown thrown in as an _entremet_. a very striking print of the same year shows the heroic "charlotte corday upon her trial" (july 17, 1793), and a figure very like gillray's usual rendering of talleyrand, with two other judges, upon the bench beneath the cap of liberty. "the blessings of peace and the curses of war," with its inscription--"such britain was, such flanders, spain and holland now is (_sic_); from such a sad reverse, o gracious god, preserve our country!"--is an eloquent, if slightly ungrammatical, appeal (jan. 17, 1795) to his fellow-countrymen, an appeal to which our artist must have been stirred by the horrible carnage and misery which the french armies were then inflicting upon the continent of europe; while "john bull ground down" (june 1, 1795) shows the guineas being extracted from that long-suffering person, despite his cries of "murder"; and in "blind-man's buff, or too many for john bull" (june 12, 1795) he is being handed over, with pitt's assistance, to the kicks and plunder of the powers of europe. we reach the full horrors of the terror in paris, and trace its effect on outside opinion, in a very clever print in my own possession entitled "promised horrors of the french invasion, or forcible reasons for neglecting a regicide peace." the print is so full of masterly detail that it almost defies description. in the centre a figure (? that of pitt) is being flogged by fox beneath the tree of liberty, planted at the piccadilly end of st. james's street, with three human thigh-bones at its base; beside it the french troops march up st. james's street, leaving the palace in smoke and flames, and invade white's club on their right, pitching its ill-fated members on to the bayonets in the street, but are received by the members of brookes's club on their left with cries of welcome, and a set of heads neatly arranged upon a plate, with the motto, "killed for the public good!" october 20, 1796, is the date of this magnificent cartoon of our artist, which must have found an echo in public opinion: but ships, troops, and subsidies mean taxation, and pitt's continued demands on the treasury are satirised in "the nuptial bower" (february 15, 1797) and "political ravishment, or the old lady of threadneedle street in danger" (may 22, 1797). =the jacobin drummer= =_by james gillray_ britannia between death and the doctors= in the year following (1798) the form of nelson makes its appearance in the print of "the british hero cleansing ye mouth of ye nile," and in "john bull taking a luncheon"--off a captured french three-decker. for now, too (november 21, 1799), the figure of buonaparte, which was to occupy so fully gillray's pencil, makes his entry into these caricatures in the cartoon of "exit liberté, a la francois (_sic_) or, buonaparte closing the farce of egalité at s. cloud, near paris, november 16, 1799." another print, however, touching the directorate period is too important to be entirely omitted from our list. it is called "ci-devant occupations, or madame tallien and the empress josephine dancing naked before barras in the winter or 1797--a fact." the dancers can be traced behind a veil of gauze, while barras sits at table, very drunk, beneath an infant bacchus wearing the cap of liberty, and buonaparte watches the scene from the side in front of a pile of skulls. "madame tallien," we are here informed, "is a beautiful woman, tall and elegant: josephine is smaller and thin, with bad teeth"; in which case she must be the figure nearest buonaparte, and must have gone up in weight--in gillray's view--before she appears in his "handwriting on the wall." it would be impossible within the limits of this series to give a detailed list of all the superb series of gillray's satires on the napoleonic struggle. i have been fortunate enough to obtain for this work reproductions of three among the best ones; but my account may do well to commence with that delightful print (another hit at charles james fox) of the "introduction of citizen volpone and his suite at paris"; might note further "the vexation of little boney"; and strike a higher note in "the handwriting upon the wall," where, in the hour of his triumph, buonaparte, seated at table beside an enormously stout josephine, with gigantic and savage-looking guards and very _décolletées_ and ringleted maids-of-honour waiting in service on them, sees with dilated eyes on the wall the warning of his doom. =_by james gillray_ armed heroes (william pitt and buonaparte)= of course the threatened invasion of england finds its echo in gillray's prints. "french invasion, or buonaparte landing," "armed heroes" (of which i give here a reproduction), and the "king of brobindnag and gulliver" all belong to this theme of the nation's peril; as does that interesting print, which i also reproduce, of "britannia between death and the doctor," where the sick lady is threatened on the one side by buonaparte as death, the while pitt, as chief physician, executes a war dance at the expense of his professional rivals, planting his heel very neatly in the mouth of the prostrate charles james fox. napoleon's european victories find comment in the "surrender of ulm," and in another of my plates, "tiddy doll, the great french gingerbread maker, drawing out a new batch of kings," where talleyrand seems, very appropriately, to be the figure in the background kneading the dough (note, too, the rubbish heap). but the worst danger was past already at the time (as we know now) of that fine plate that commemorates the "death of admiral lord nelson in the moment of victory," published by humphrey of st. james street, on december 23, 1805. gillray, after trying various publishers--kent, brown, holland of oxford street, fores of piccadilly--seems to have settled down with humphrey, first in the strand, then in bond street, and later st. james street, whose shop-windows became famed for his prints. joseph grego, a known authority on our artist, relates that fox and burke once walked into the shop together, alarming the worthy proprietress by this sudden invasion of gillray's favourite subjects. but burke reassured her with a smile: "were i to prosecute you it would be the making of your fortune; and that favour, excuse me, mrs. humphrey, you do not entirely merit at my hands." we may terminate our study or gillray's napoleonic caricatures very appropriately with the "spanish bullfight," in which buonaparte is tossed by the spanish bull (peninsular war of 1808) before the assembled powers of europe (dated july 11, 1808); and the fine print of the "valley of the shadow of death" (september 24, 1808), in which the prediction of an earlier print ("the handwriting on the wall") seems near its fulfilment, and the powers of europe in grim demonic shapes surround the terrified ruler, the british lion charging him full in front, while the russian bear takes an ugly snatch from behind at his legs. =_by james gillray_ buonaparte as king-maker (with talleyrand to help)= james gillray's political caricatures are so interesting and so important, they form such a priceless commentary on the history of the time, that i have given them the priority of space over his amusing social satires, which scourge without mercy the follies of dress and fashion. "a lady putting on her cap" (1795), "lady godiva's rout" (1796), "high change in bond street" (1796), "a modern belle at bath" (1796), and "a fashionable mamma" come into this class, as well as "following the fashion," "characters in high life," and many others. it was the epoch when english ladies' waists seem to have risen nearly to their arm-pits, and when their hair towered up correspondingly into a forest of feathers; and all the above prints--as well as the series of "faro's daughters," directed at the gambling craze, "the graces in a high wind (as seen from nature in kensington gardens)," and the still more risky series of "three stages of a lady's toilet,"--depict these extreme fashions. "tales of wonder," "advantages of wearing muslin dresses, dedicated to the fashionable ladies of great britain," "a broad hint of not meaning to dance," "a company shocked at a lady getting up to ring the bell," belong to a slightly later period of costume, say 1802-04. "dido in despair" is evidently a satire on the beautiful lady hamilton, who is however represented in this print as enormously fat.[10] gillray has evidently no sympathy or mercy for the frail and famous beauty; for here she is tumbling out of bed in nightcap and nightdress, from which a huge foot protrudes, while she waves her fat arms in despair. a flask of maraschino is on the dressing-table near the rouge pot; on the floor lie broken antiques; and a work on _studies of academic attitudes_, with scarcely academic illustrations, lies near the window, through which is seen a line of british battleships standing out to sea. "ah where and oh where is my gallant sailor gone? he's gone to fight the frenchmen for george upon the throne,"-is the motto of this print, which was published by humphrey on february 6 of 1801. "the bulstrode siren" (mrs. billington), where she is seen warbling to the duke of portland, fares little better than emma herself; and sir william hamilton appears, in another of gillray's satires, as "a conoscenti contemplating ye beauties of ye antique." among these last _objets d'art_ a battered "lais" and a "bacchante" who has lost her head seem as full of cryptic allusion as the dancing figures on a greek vase and the cupid with a bent arrow; while quite in hogarth's best vein is the "mark antony" framed upon the wall, in a cocked hat and admiral's uniform, the "cleopatra" with a gin bottle, and a view of vesuvius in full eruption. sheridan is a frequent figure in gillray's political caricatures; but perhaps he was never more happily treated than when he enters as harlequin, armed with a goose quill, and assisted by john kemble and the famous mrs. siddons, in "blowing up the pic nics." to the same class and subject of satire belongs the "pic nic orchestra" and "dilettante theatre"--this last a green-room scene which seems reminiscent of hogarth's print of a similar subject. "two-penny whist" and "push-pin" are filled with contemporary portraits;[11] and the two series of "cockney sportsmen" (4 plates, 1800) and "elements of skating" (4 plates, 1805) must not be overlooked any more than such weirdly hideous creations as "comfort to the corns," as "begone dull care, i prithee," and "the gout." interesting, however, though much of gillray's social satire certainly is, it scarcely reaches the same level as his political work. he was a magnificent engraver, and was able in his best time to build up his cartoon with the smallest possible scaffolding, a few lines pencilled upon a card being enough to enable him to commence at once upon the copper; while the freedom and facility of his design is witnessed amply by all his prints--those prints which we have now studied in some measure together, though anything in the nature of a comprehensive catalogue is denied me by the space at my command. his influence, too, upon isaac cruikshank is to be marked, as a link in the evolution of english caricature. in his later years james gillray resided almost entirely with his kindly publisher, mrs. humphrey, of whom, as i have noted, he has left a whimsical portrait, with her faithful maid "giggling betty," in his print of "two-penny whist." mrs. humphrey appreciated her client's genius, and at one time their mutual understanding got so far on the road to matrimony that they had already reached the door of the church (their parish church of s. james, piccadilly) when this eccentric bridegroom remarked, "this is a foolish affair, mrs. humphrey. we live very comfortably together--better let well alone!"--and walked home to work on his copper plate. but even if this legend of blighted hopes be correct, the good spinster in any case devoted herself no less to the artist's comfort and welfare; and the tragedy of his later years was due to himself alone. intemperance weakened his powers; and in the last years of his life he lapsed, from this cause probably, into a condition of mental imbecility, which contrasts sadly with those busy and successful years of his life, from 1777 to close on 1810. he died upon the 1st of june, 1815, and was buried near the rectory of s. james, piccadilly; within reach of the busy roar of that london whose complex multitudinous life he had lived amongst and loved and studied, and which still surges around his last resting-place in changed and ever-changing forms. v the comedy of life thomas rowlandson, the last and in some ways the greatest of the caricaturists whose work illustrates the eighteenth century, was born in london in 1756, being thus just six years younger than bunbury, and one year older than gillray; so that all these artists cover very much the same period, although their work has elements of the greatest diversity. in bunbury we have seen the really gifted amateur, who entrusted his clever sketches to other hands to be engraved, who kept in touch with social life in london and county society, and pursued his career in the army and at court, while throughout devoting himself to art as his greatest hobby. again, later, we have traced briefly gillray's supreme talent, both as engraver and draughtsman, more especially in his magnificent series of contemporary political cartoons. but in rowlandson we touch a genius as fertile, but of a different order, and, i incline to think, of a considerably wider grasp; and if i call this chapter, which i am devoting especially to his work, the "comedy of life"--in contrast to pictorial morals, to society or politics--it is because life in all its exuberance, all its variety and fertility, seems to stream on us from the gifted artist's pencil. but life contains--thanks be--not only coarse, distorted types of humanity, exaggerations of foolish fashion, and political antagonisms, but grace and beauty, even with the changing form of the time-spirit; and it is just here that rowlandson infinitely surpasses those contemporaries whom we studied in our last chapter. his female figures have often that rich english beauty which we find in reynolds, hoppner, or sometimes in morland; and his landscape has qualities of very exceptional merit. he might, we are frequently tempted to think, have been a painter worthy to take a front rank even in that magnificent english eighteenth-century school, which included reynolds, gainsborough, romney, hoppner, among its glories; but as we come to study his life we shall find in the _insouciance_ of his character, in the very facility of his genius, the causes which made him--not, indeed, entirely to our loss--only the greatest caricaturist of his time. as a boy already, at dr. barrow's academy in soho, he had attracted notice by his humorous sketches of his fellow pupils; and in his sixteenth year he went to paris at the invitation of his aunt, a mlle. chatelier, with the object of pursuing art study in that city. he had already been admitted as a student in the royal academy; and his life studies in paris are said to have possessed great merit. paris itself at this time (about 1772-4), with louis xv. still on the throne, must have been very fascinating to the young english lad, living with a relative who treated him with affection and generosity, in the first consciousness too of his genius, in the midst of a most brilliant capital, and with every prospect of fortune waiting for him. these years left, without doubt, an indelible impression on his mind. mr. grego, an authority on this artist as well as gillray, expresses this[12] very happily when he says: "it was the more romantic paris of sterne that rowlandson first viewed, and he seems to have recognised and noted down the characteristics of the same typical personages described by 'yorick'; their two satirical points of view were identical. it was indeed the ideal artistic centre: fragonard, lavrience, eisen, st. aubin, and the school of followers of boucher and lancret--elegant triflers in their way, but unequalled for dash and brilliancy--were the leading spirits as rowlandson imbibed his first inspiration from these attractive fonts. his two years' residence in the midst of these appetising surroundings must have been the happiest of rowlandson's career; the seeds sown amid these gayer scenes blossomed forth in later years, and influenced the artist in gradually devoting his gifts from the dull routine of portrait-painting to the indulgence of his fruitful imagination." whether indeed all the influence which the critic here mentions was entirely for good, is, i think myself, open to question. it is quite possible that our artist acquired at this time the taste for gambling which led him to the brink of ruin more than once in later life; and i have suggested already that had he kept to painting he might have achieved in that medium a fame far above even that which he now possesses. for on his return to london he resumed his studies at the royal academy schools, and in 1775 exhibited at the academy "samson visited by delilah," which he followed up by the portraits on which he was busy now in wardour street from 1778 to 1781. his work must have shown considerable power to be hung beside the canvases of reynolds, romney, and hoppner; but at the later date of 1784 his exhibited drawings--"vauxhall gardens," "the serpentine," and "an italian family"--show already a tendency to the lighter side of art, and between the above date and 1787 the direction of his art has changed in favour of caricature. his imagination was as fertile as his pencil was facile. the market was easy--fores (for whom gillray also worked), ackermann,[13] and others offering a ready sale for his satires; and, since we are treating of him here as a caricaturist, it is at this point that we must take his work in detail. the purely humorous prints commence as early as 1781 ("the village doctor," published in june of that year by humphrey), and are followed up (november 27, same year and publisher) by "charity covereth a multitude of sins," and that unpleasing subject (published by fores, 1783) of "the amputation"; but it is in his political cartoons of 1784--such as "britannia roused, or the coalition monster destroyed"--that we begin to recognise the distinctive touch of thomas rowlandson. this vigorous print shows a half-draped female figure catching charles james fox by the ankle and lord north by the throat; in this print he takes the same political attitude as his contemporary gillray, whom he resembles, though far less virulently, in his anti-french prints, while he shows less marked hostility to the reigning house. the famous westminster election of the same year (1784) brought rowlandson still further into political satire, in which charles james fox and the beautiful georgina, duchess of devonshire, are leading figures. in "the devonshire, or the most approved manner of securing votes," the lovely duchess is bestowing a warm embrace on a voter, in the shape of a fat butcher, while another lady, perhaps the duchess of gordon, looks on approvingly with the words "huzza! fox for ever!" in the "lords of the bedchamber," georgina, seated in her _boudoir_ beneath reynolds' portrait of her duke, is entertaining to tea two privileged visitors, fox and his leading supporter, sam house--"brave, bald-headed sam" as he was then called. the enthusiastic support which her grace gave to fox's candidature gave an opening which was used--often too freely--by the caricaturists. in "wit's last stake, or the cobbler's vote," she is seated upon fox's knee, the while a cobbler puts a stitch into her shoe, so that she may have the excuse of pouring a handful of guineas into his wife's hand. in another print she appears neglecting the infant heir of the cavendishes for a fox, dressed up in baby clothes; and upon fox's triumphant return is made by the artist to carry him pick-a-back, and to stop at mungo's hotel for a drop of gin. it is but fair to our caricaturist to say that the fair pittite champion, lady buckingham, is treated no less mercilessly; and that, even while he was aiming the most outrageous shafts of ridicule and innuendo at the duchess, his pencil did justice to her extraordinary beauty and charm, both in the prints above mentioned, and in a "procession to the hustings after a successful canvass," in which she leads the way in a big picture hat, and carrying a perfectly indescribable ensign with "the man of the people" as its legend. finally, "the westminster mendicant" and the "westminster deserter drummed out" complete this really brilliant series of election caricatures, of which i have only detailed the most interesting. in the last-named print it is "brave baldheaded" sam house who beats the drum, while on his left is the triumphant candidate, charles james fox, who addresses the crowd with the time-hallowed words, "friends and fellow citizens, i cannot find words to express my feelings, etc.," and on his right the defeated sir cecil wray; while behind are the irish chairmen who had fought (in every sense of the word) so lustily for fox, and a procession of london maidservants, armed with mops and brooms. in my account of this series of prints (which all fall within the dates of april and may of 1784) i shall note briefly one remaining print, "for the benefit of the champion," in which fox and lord north, in female attire, and the duchess in her large picture hat, but _décollettée_, and with bare arms, are busy singing a dirge on the defeated opponent. georgina, a figure of delicious sprightliness and beauty, points to the tombstone marked "here lies poor cecil ray," while the spectacled profile of burke peeps into the door. and here i may remark again how astonishingly to my own experience a study of these prints makes history real, vivid, and living. these dry bones of bygone politics become clothed with flesh; and names which we had studied with colder interest become friends, and almost intimates. ere we leave the theme of politics, it may be noted that in the great french war rowlandson does not come behind gillray in his patriotic enthusiasm. a whole series of prints, from july to september 1808, was directed against napoleon; while nelson appears in a print of which, by the kindness of its possessor, mr. newman, a great collector of nelson relics, i am able to give a plate--"admiral nelson recruiting with his brave tars after the glorious battle of the nile" (published by ackermann, october 20, 1798); and both contemporary figures are alluded to in "napoleon buonaparte in a fever on receiving the astounding gazette of nelson's victory over the combined fleets" (ackermann, november 13, 1805). =_by thomas rowlandson_ nelson recruiting with his brave tars after the battle of the nile= but it is time for us to betake ourselves to rowlandson's social caricatures, which after all represent the best of his life work; and i am tempted to quote--in seeking illustration of that wonderful sense of life which seems to stream upon us from his pencil--some words of my own in an earlier work, in which i had occasion to treat of this artist. "these creatures of his scenes of comedy--drawn boldly in outline with the reed pen dipped in indian ink and vermillion, with the shadows then washed in, and the whole slightly tinted in colour--seem full-blooded, vigorous, overflowing with animal life and energy. his women above all are delicious. rather voluptuous, perhaps, and full in form, but yet indescribably charming in their mob caps, or those big 'picture' hats that george morland loved, in the tight sleeves and high-waisted gowns falling in long folds about their limbs--their eyes sparkling with roguery, and their whole being breathing the charm of sex."[14] we may commence our study of his social satires here, in following to some extent the sequence of time, with "a sketch from nature"--published by j. r. smith in january of 1784, and engraved by him in stipple with great beauty and finish. the subject here recalls a very similar scene in hogarth's "rake's progress," for here, as there, a merry company of both sexes is engaged in riotous revel; and the wine and punch flowing freely has got into the heads, and found expression in the behaviour, of the nymphs and their attendant swains. "money-lenders," "councillor and client," and "bookseller and author" (all 1784) are excellent character-studies of male figures: the eighteenth century evidently needed the presence of sir walter besant, for the bookseller is fat, prosperous, and overbearing, the author terribly thin, poorly dressed, and looking overworked. in "the golden apple or the modern paris" (1785) the fair georgina again appears before us with her rival beauties, the duchesses of rutland and gordon: "here juno devon, all sublime, minerva gordon's wit and eyes, sweet rutland, venus in her prime." the three ladies appear before the prince of wales, afterwards george the fourth--the "modern paris" who has the difficult task of awarding the apple. the prince re-appears in rowlandson's famous print of "vauxhall gardens" (published by j. r. smith in 1785) with a star upon his breast, where he is paying much attention to mrs. robinson--the lovely "perdita," whose portrait now hangs in the wallace collection. the duchess of devonshire and her sister, lady duncannon, are well in the centre of the picture; captain topham takes in the gay scene through his glass; doctor johnson, in a supper box, seems deeply engaged upon his meal, though mrs. thrale is on his right and "bozzy" and goldsmith are of the party. captain (later colonel) topham, the _macaroni_, man of taste and editor of _the world_, appears in another plate of 1785--as "captain epilogue," and as "colonel topham endeavouring to extinguish the genius of holman" (the actor); and to the same date belong "grog on board" and "tea on shore," as well as the print in colour chosen for illustration to this chapter. "filial affection," as this is called, depicting a runaway trip to gretna green, speaks so fully for itself that it needs no further description from my pen; but i may mention here its companion print (also published by mr. hinton on december 15 of 1785), and called "the reconciliation, or the return from scotland," in which the pair of fugitives--whom we have just seen presenting their horse pistols at the parental _poursuivant_--have now returned, all penitence and submission, and have won their forgiveness. a very curious and somewhat grisly adaptation of "filial affection" is reproduced by messrs. bell, to illustrate the article upon rowlandson in their new and valuable edition of _bryan's dictionary_. it is a plate from _the dance of death_, an illustrated volume published by ackermann in 1815, and resembles the earlier print--save that the figure behind the angry parent is a skeleton rider mounted on a skeleton steed. at this point, in touching these two periods (of 1785 and 1815) we may note how far fresher and more spontaneous is the figure-work in that rich period from 1785 onwards. rowlandson had gained, perhaps, in what we may call his "dr. syntax period," in the treatment of landscape perspective or the massing of crowds, but had become more of the caricaturist, had lost the rich organic beauty which really irradiates some of his earlier prints. =filial affection. by thomas rowlandson.= a print in colour from my own collection, published by fores only sixteen days earlier (november 30, 1785) than "filial affection," may help here to illustrate my meaning. "intrusion on study" or "the painter disturbed," shows a very charming model, attired in nothing but the prettiest of mob caps, posing for some goddess on the canvas of the artist, who turns to wave his palette and brushes--a most effective weapon of defence--in the faces of two unwelcome visitors of his own sex, who have just broken in open-mouthed upon his study. the details of the studio, the expressive faces of the artist and his visitors (especially the second), are in rowlandson's best mood; but what is more interesting, because more exceptional, is the exquisite feeling of line, as subtle as anything beardsley has recorded, in the girl's recumbent figure--in the flow of the shoulder into the right arm, and in the sweep of the right hip, and faultless drawing of the right hand--which touches a note of purely plastic beauty entirely beyond the reach of either hogarth or gillray. joseph grego says of our artist very justly: "rowlandson's sense of feminine loveliness, of irresistible graces of face expression and attitude, was unequalled in its way; several of his female portraits have been mistaken for sketches by gainsborough or morland, and as such, it is possible, since the caricaturist is so little known in this branch, that many continue to pass current."[15] an engraving which came into my own hands, some years ago, of three young girls by rowlandson, might be an exact illustration of these words, and as the above writer says, be a portrait group by gainsborough or hoppner--so refined and yet so masterly was the treatment. i alluded to this print with others, when speaking of rowlandson as what might be here called a "feminist" in my study of bartolozzi and his contemporaries, and found illustration there of this peculiarly charming type of his women in "luxury" (typified, for this artist, by breakfast in bed), "house breakers," "the inn yard on fire" (where the ladies are making a very impromptu exit), in the lovely model of "the artist disturbed," and (for women of fashion) in the series (twelve prints in all) of the "comforts of bath." i mention there, too, that delightful print of "lady hamilton at home," where poor sir william (whom the caricaturists never neglected) is suffering from an acute attack of gout, while "the lovely emma, in very classic garb, is watering a flower-pot, and miss cornelia knight, also dressed after the antique, touches the strings of a lyre, and warbles poems of her own composition." in treating, however, of rowlandson's women, other prints, such as "tastes differ," "opera boxes," "harmony," "a nap in town," and "in the country," "interruption, or inconvenience of a lodging house" (published april 1789), and "damp sheets" (august 1791), have a strong claim on our notice. nor must i entirely neglect here rowlandson's print called "preparation for the academy, or old joseph nollekens and his venus" (1800). it is perhaps the miss coleman here upon the model-stand who nearly caused a domestic breach between old nollekens and his jealous spouse--the group on which he is at work being his "venus chiding cupid," which was modelled for lord yarborough. _the life of the sculptor nollekens_, by his pupil john thomas smith, contains some amusing contemporary gossip. he describes the sculptor much as we see him in this plate--his figure short, his head big, his shoulders narrow, his body too large. his worthy better half held strong opinions upon the sculptor's models--"abandoned hussies, with whom she had no patience"; and miss coleman having ventured to visit the scene of her early labours in a carriage and pair, the wrath of the virtuous mrs. nollekens became unbounded. words indeed (perhaps a rare defect with the good lady) seem to have failed her at this crisis; in a later interview with joseph they were not wanting. =_by thomas rowlandson_ a ball at the hackney assembly rooms (remember the graces!)= but here i would also point out that not only was our caricaturist an unequalled illustrator of lovely woman (and as such makes us often regret that the becoming mob cap has disappeared from use), but also a magnificent landscape artist. i came to notice this especially last year in a very interesting exhibition of rowlandson's drawings at the leicester gallery in london. "a country fête," a "village scene with bridge," and the "promenade on richmond hill," were good examples of his delightful handling of english landscape. the last of these formed part of a very interesting set of the artist's original drawings, which were not exhibited, but which i was able to study by kind permission. "greenwich park" was among these drawings, with merrymakers racing and tumbling down the hill, and a delicious perspective of the park and hospital; a "review of guards in hyde park," where, upon the soldiers firing, two of the spectators' horses have bolted into the crowd; the charming drawing in pencil and colour work of two girls called "the sirens;" rustic scenes such as "eel pie island at richmond," "playing quoits," and a "rustic maid crossing a stile," to her sweetheart's admiration; such echoes too of war as the crowd cheering the great battleships at portsmouth, or the print of "invaders repulsed," where british troops are seen driving out the french invaders. drawn most delicately in pencil with a wash of pure colour, these drawings bring us nearer to the feeling of the artist than even his prints, and it was interesting to compare "greenwich hill" in the print and drawing, and to see how much the transcript had lost. yet seen by themselves the prints were interesting and characteristic. "a visit to the uncle" and "to the aunt," "travelling in france, 1790"--a signed work showing a large clumsy diligence, which the artist is sketching--"angelo's fencing room," full of contemporary portraits, "the pleasure of the country," where fine ladies struggling through the mud find a litter of piglets rushing in among their skirts, were among the best of these, while a print of "girls dressing for the masquerade," and the "dutch academy," with a fat model posing before solid dutchmen, were among those not infrequent prints of our artist whose satire comes near--if not over--the confines of good taste. =_by thomas rowlandson_ a theatrical candidate= some clever prints of dr. syntax himself were here--a subject this which, published by ackermann under the title of a "tour of dr. syntax in search of the picturesque" in 1809, was republished in 1812, and occupied the artist in various developments during his later life. to the same period of rowlandson's career belonged "the microcosm of london" (1808), "a mad dog in a coffee house" (1809), and "in a dining room" (1809), the print called "exhibition stare-case, somerset house" (1811)--where the visitors of both sexes are tumbling headlong downstairs, the extraordinary cleverness of drawing scarcely compensating for the doubtful taste of the subject; and later followed "the world in miniature" (1816), "richardson's show," "the english dance of death" (1814-16), and "dance of life" (1817), which leads on to the later "tour of dr. syntax in search of consolation" (1820), and (1821) "in search of a wife." although fores of piccadilly seems to have published many of our artist's prints during the last years of the eighteenth century, throughout his whole career rudolph ackermann remained his constant friend; to the suggestion of this latter was due the idea of a monthly publication, which gave rowlandson regular employment in his later years, and resulted in the series of prints which i have just detailed, among which the quaint, angular form of dr. syntax, with his thin legs, black coat and breeches, and hooked nose, claims a prominent place. these subjects lead us already into the early nineteenth century, and, as doing so, fall outside our present limit; but rowlandson himself belongs in his art, as much as bunbury or gillray, to the earlier age. an artist of extraordinary genius, we have it on record that two successive presidents of the academy in his day, sir joshua reynolds and sir benjamin west, in expressing their admiration of his drawings, added their opinion that, had he chosen a higher branch of art, he might have stood in the forefront of english contemporary painting. instead of this he preferred to devote his genius and his best years to caricature, and in doing so, has bequeathed to us a rich and most precious heritage. he was happy in his friendships. james gillray was well known to him; george morland, that brilliant artist with whom he had so much in common, henry angelo, whom he loved to depict among his pupils of the foil ("angelo's fencing room" and "signora cigali fencing at angelo's"), bannister, and ackermann the art publisher were among his intimates. he was less happy in the conduct of his life. extravagance and carelessness were combined with a passion for gambling which made him a frequent figure in the fashionable playhouses of london; and these habits placed the fortune, which should have been his by industry and inheritance, beyond his reach. the legacy of £7000 bequeathed him by his french aunt, who had treated him so generously in his student days, was speedily dissipated in this way. indeed, but for the frequent advice and assistance of his friend and publisher, rudolph ackermann, he might have found himself in serious difficulties; and the story runs that on one occasion he sat for thirty-six hours at the cards, and that on another, after losing all he had, he sat down coolly to his work and (raising that facile pencil of his) said, "here is my resource." thus it was that, after many years of fertile labour, he died a poor man in lodgings at the adelphi, on the 22nd of april, 1827. his faithful friends of earlier days, henry angelo, bannister, and rudolph ackermann, followed to his grave the last great caricaturist of the bygone century. =_by thomas rowlandson_ old joseph nollekens and his venus= in these pages we have traced together the record of that century in english caricature; and if we have been compelled to note but hastily the lesser men, have, in so doing, at least gained breathing space to study four great and typical figures. we saw how william hogarth, when he handles the graver as humourist and delineator of character, stands forth immortally great; how, when he sought to place himself at the head of the nascent english school, he fell beneath his own level. we saw in henry william bunbury the cultured artist, soldier, and man of society, the welcome guest in many a great country-house, who could bring his host's pretty daughters into some charming sketch, or take his part in the improvised theatricals; but whose prints have real humour, charm, and the sweet, wholesome breath of english country life. then we watched gillray tower aloft in political satire, and rowlandson's pencil touch every side of life. if we noticed at the same time a certain coarseness of fibre come to the surface in much of their work, finding expression often both in subject, and still more in treatment and in type, we must remember that this quality belongs not to the men alone, but to the age. the more sensitive modern may feel himself at first repelled rather than attracted, and many a print of rowlandson or gillray find a place in his _index expurgatorius_; but the brutality of these men is the brutality of nature in some of her moods, and their work, like nature, fertile, fresh, and vigorous, attracts us (as all strong work will and must) the more we study it by its masterly drawing, its free, open humour, and often its high imaginative grasp. behind these men, these masters of english caricature, appears, never entirely absent from our thought, the history of the century, with its magnificent record of english achievement. behind them, too, a corrective and a stimulant to their best effort, is that wonderful revelation of english eighteenth-century pictorial art. for just as when, in years to come, men think on that stirring epoch, the two words _england_ and _liberty_ will leap unbidden to their thought; so, too, in the record of the greatest epoch of our country's art, a place must be found for the english caricaturists of the eighteenth century. printed by ballantyne, hanson & co. london & edinburgh footnotes: [1] a fine collection of lithographs of honoré daumier (1808-1879) has this year been exhibited in the victoria and albert museum. [2] "the works of william hogarth, elucidated by descriptions." by t. clerk. london, 1810. [3] "william hogarth," by austin dobson; with a valuable technical introduction by sir w. armstrong. london, 1902. [4] "bartolozzi and his pupils in england" (langham series). by selwyn brinton. london, 1903. [5] "history of caricature and of grotesque in art." by thomas wright, m.a., f.s.a. london, 1863. [6] his "englishman at paris" even predates this by four years (1767). the british museum etchings, to which i allude later, are early work, one even dating from his schooldays at westminster! [7] _op. cit._ p. 63. [8] i give a plate of this beautiful eliza farren (painted by lawrence, engraved by bartolozzi) in my work on bartolozzi in this series (facing p. 63). gillray has an amusing print of the diminutive lord derby, standing on his coronet to admire himself in the glass. [9] they are all enjoying their new diet under similar conditions. in italy (perhaps the cleverest hit of all) the old pope, seated, is having the bread shot into his open mouth from a french soldier's blunderbuss, while an assistant at the same moment neatly removes from his head the triple crown. [10] mme. vigée le brun, in her delightful memoirs, gives some justification to gillray's severe treatment. visiting lady hamilton soon after sir william's death she found "this andromache" draped in black, and extremely fat. [11] in "two-penny whist" appear the worthy mrs. humphrey and her maid betty; in "push-pin" the duke of queensbury and the duchess of gordon. [12] _the magazine of art_, 1901. [13] rudolph ackermann occupies almost the same position to rowlandson that mistress humphrey did to gillray, as his early and faithful friend and principal publisher. [14] _bartolozzi and his pupils in england_, p. 46. [15] _rowlandson, the caricaturist._ by joseph grego. 1880. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. illustration captions are represented by =caption=. additional spacing after some of the quotes is intentional to indicate both the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as presented in the original text. missing quotation marks have been added. misprint "and and" corrected to "and" (page 82). otherwise, text matches original printing. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 43219-h.htm or 43219-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43219/43219-h/43219-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43219/43219-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/raemaekerscartoo03raemuoft transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). small capitals were converted to all capitals. raemaekers' cartoon history of the war [illustration: (signed) louis raemaekers] raemaekers' cartoon history of the war compiled by j. murray allison editor of _raemaekers' cartoons_, _kultur in cartoons_, _the century edition de luxe raemaekers' cartoons_, _etc._ volume three the third twelve months of war new york the century co. 1919 copyright, 1919, by the century co. volume three _the peace move_ * * * * * berlin, august 6, 1914 (the berlin papers declared that the population, mad with joy, drank champagne and danced in the streets.) i draw the sword that with god's help i have kept all these years in the scabbard. i have drawn the sword which without victory and without honor i cannot sheath again. all of you will see to it that only in honor is it returned to the scabbard. _you are my guaranty that i can dictate peace to my enemies._ _the_ kaiser _to his guards at potsdam_, _august, 1914_. [illustration] _"are you ready to make munitions for germany?"_ * * * * * the first official charges on the subject were issued on november 9 at havre by baron beyens, belgian foreign minister, as follows: "the german government is rounding up in large numbers in the towns and villages of occupied belgium, such as alost, ghent, bruges, courtrai, and mons,--to name only the first to be victims of the measures,--all men fit to bear arms, rich and poor, irrespective of class, whether employed or unemployed, hunchbacks, cripples, and one-armed men alone are excepted. these men are torn in thousands from their families; fifteen thousand from flanders alone are sent god knows where. whole trainloads are seen going east and south." cardinal mercier replies cardinal mercier, primate of belgium, in behalf of the belgian bishops, issued a proclamation of protest on november 7, addressed to the neutral nations and appealing for their aid in opposing the proceeding. his protest is in these terms: "the military authorities are daily deporting thousands of inoffensive citizens in order to set them to forced labor. "as early as october 19 we sent a protest to the governor-general, a copy of which was also sent to the representatives of the holy see in brussels, spain, the united states, and the netherlands. the governor-general, in reply, refused to take any steps." [illustration] _another example of kultur_ _fritz: "we must see if there is any money or jewelry in these coffins before we retire."_ * * * * * at cartigny the germans opened five vaults, each with a chapel above it, by tearing apart the stones. they did the same thing at ronsoy, at becquincourt, at dompierre, at bouvincourt, and at herbecourt. at nurly, roisel, bernes, they even broke into coffins. in the enclosed ground serving as a private cemetery for the rohan family at manancourt they buried a great number of their soldiers, and, an inconceivable thing, established a kitchen in the interior of the rohan mausoleums and latrines among their family tombs. in the crypt, where indescribable disorder reigns, almost all the compartments are empty. a child's coffin, taken from one of them, was stripped of its lead. a heavy leaden casket, half drawn from another compartment, bears on its lid marks of a chisel. a block of marble, in which is seen a small excavation, has been thrown among the débris; it bears the inscription: "here rests the heart of mme. amelie de musnier de folleville, countess of boissy, who died at paris, july 16, 1830, at the age of thirty-two years and ten months." _french official report of german barbarities in france, june 1, 1916._ [illustration] _canada on vimy ridge_ * * * * * the capture of two thousand prisoners by the canadians is not surprising, as the whole ridge was honeycombed with dugouts, in which the germans sheltered themselves. up to the present moment the great offensive had been held up just at the point below the canadian lines, which fact caused vimy ridge to be styled the "hinge" of the enemy's retreat from the somme, and the canadians have been very impatient for the "hinge" to move. _toronto mail, august 10, 1916._ [illustration] _william_: _i wonder how long my dear friend and ally will be able to stand this._ * * * * * the offensive began on june 4, and the total captures to august 12 were as follows: prisoners officers 7,757 men 350,845 guns 405 machine-guns 1,326 bomb-throwers 338 caissons 292 _russian official, august 12, 1916._ [illustration] _william: "here's luck, hindenburg."_ _hindenburg: "where?"_ * * * * * the kaiser has dismissed general von falkenhayn, chief of the general staff, and has appointed field-marshal von hindenburg chief of the general staff and general von ludendorff first quartermaster-general. _berlin official telegram, august 30, 1916._ [illustration] _the old frenchman: "our guns come nearer."_ * * * * * 12:30 a.m. in coöperation with the french on our immediate right we attacked the enemy at several points. we have captured part of ginchy and the whole of guillemont. our front now runs some five hundred yards east of guillemont from ginchy to near falfemont farm. on the east side of mouquet farm we have also gained ground. we have captured several hundred prisoners. between our right and the somme the french have made substantial progress and captured a considerable number of prisoners. fighting continues. our aircraft did most useful work in coöperating with the artillery and infantry. the enemy's aëroplanes, which made desperate attempts to interfere, were successfully engaged in many aërial fights and driven off with a loss of three machines destroyed and at least four others damaged, while we lost three. 12:10 p.m. last night was generally quiet. fighting is in progress this morning near mouquet farm, south of thiepval, and on the banks of the ancre; also on our right about falfemont farm. we have gained ground. last night we carried out a successful raid on the enemy's trenches north of monchy, capturing prisoners. _british official, september 5, 1916._ [illustration] _tanks_ * * * * * at 6:20 a.m. on september 15, 1916, the infantry assault commenced, and at the same moment the bombardment became intense. our new heavily armored cars, known as "tanks," now brought into action for the first time, successfully coöperated with the infantry, and, coming as a surprise to the enemy rank and file, gave valuable help in breaking down their resistance. the advance met with immediate success on almost the whole of the front attacked. at 8:40 a.m. "tanks" were seen to be entering flers, followed by large numbers of troops. fighting continued in flers for some time, but by 10 a.m. our troops had reached the north side of the village, and by midday had occupied the enemy's trenches for some distance beyond. _british official, september 15, 1916._ [illustration] _the slaying of the fiery dragons_ _two airships fell victims to the enemy's defensive of london._ _german official._ * * * * * twelve german airships took part in a raid on london and various eastern and east midland counties on saturday night and early on sunday morning, but on their return journey the raiders numbered only 10. the other two had been left behind in essex. one was brought down in flames not far from london, and its crew were all killed; the second came to earth near the coast, and its crew of twenty-two surrendered. both the lost airships are big vessels of a new pattern. _british official, september 24, 1916._ [illustration] _king tino at athens to his brother-in-law william at potsdam: "please return me my runaway army corps. i want it to shoot my constitutional subjects."_ * * * * * the hellenic government entirely disavows the action of colonel hazzopoulos, commander at kavala. the greek government demands from germany that these troops shall be brought to the swiss frontier, that they may be conducted to a mediterranean port, and there be embarked on ships to be sent by the greek government, so as to bring them back to greece. the greek government guarantees that they will not be stopped, or made to serve any enemy of germany. _note from the hellenic government to germany, september 26, 1916._ [illustration] _mr. lloyd george to neutrals: "don't stand in our way to victory."_ * * * * * the whole world, including neutrals of the highest purposes and humanitarians with the best motives, must know that there can be no outside interference at this stage. britain asked no intervention when she was not prepared to fight. she will tolerate none now that she is prepared until prussian military despotism is broken beyond repair. d. lloyd george, _london, september 28, 1916._ [illustration] _the crown prince preaches to america_ * * * * * we are all tired of bloodshed, we all want peace. england is the power responsible for the continuation of the hopeless effort to crush us. in the twentieth century of the christian era mankind might have been expected to have arrived at some maturity of thought and behavior. no one can witness, as you during the last fortnight have witnessed, the spectacle presented by this appalling sacrifice, this inconceivable suffering preposterously out of proportion to any result obtained, without wondering whether reason has fled from the earth. german crown prince _to correspondent of new york american. october, 1916._ [illustration] _"i am 'operating' at, but not inside your gate; tomorrow i come inside with a letter from the kaiser."_ on sunday, october 8, the world was startled by the news that the u-53 was sinking british and neutral vessels near nantucket shoals lightship, a hundred miles from newport, u. s. a., and leaving the crews and passengers in small boats on the open sea. the underseas craft had stationed itself in the steamer lane where nearly all incoming and outgoing vessels from new york must pass, and its day's work consisted in sending five ships to the bottom, as follows: the _strathdene_, a british freighter. the _west point_, a british freighter. the _stephano_, a british passenger liner. the _bloomersdijk_, a dutch freighter. the _christian knudsen_, norwegian freighter. _new york times, october 9, 1916._ [illustration] _the super anarchist_ * * * * * in letting loose these things and in introducing them into war, germany has been the great anarchist who has let loose on the world a greater and a more terrible anarchy than any individual anarchist ever dreamed of. unless there is some means of restraining these things, future war will, by the developments of science, be made even more terrible and horrible than this war, because germany has thrown down all the barriers that civilisation had previously built up so as to keep the horrors of war within bounds. viscount grey, _minister for foreign affairs, london, october 23, 1916._ [illustration] _fritz: "this is no longer civilized war--they are stronger than we."_ * * * * * under the title "the devil's chariot" the "düsseldorfer generalanzeiger's" correspondent on the western front describes the british "tanks" and their effect on the astonished german soldiers. as the german trench posts came out of their holes in the foggy dawn of september 16 and raised heads again after the heavy iron-blows of the night and looked toward the english, their blood froze in their veins as two mysterious monsters came creeping over the crater fields. the monster approached slowly, hobbling, moving from side to side, rocking and pitching, but it came nearer. nothing obstructed it; a supernatural force seemed to drive it onwards. some one in the trenches cried "the devil comes," and that word ran down the line like lightning. suddenly tongues of fire licked out of the armored shine of the iron caterpillar, shells whistled over our heads, and a terrible concert of machine-gun orchestra filled the air. the mysterious creature had surrendered its secret, and sense returned with it, and toughness and defiance, as the english waves of infantry surged up behind the devil's chariot. _times special correspondent, october 24, 1916._ [illustration] _houp la!!_ * * * * * on the verdun front, after an intense artillery preparation, the projected attack on the right bank of the meuse was launched at twenty minutes before twelve this morning. the enemy line, attacked on a front of seven kilometers (nearly four and a half miles), was broken through everywhere to a depth which at the middle attained a distance of three kilometers (nearly two miles). the village and fort of douaumont are in our hands. prisoners are pouring in. up to the present thirty-five hundred, including about one hundred officers, have been counted. the quantity of material captured cannot yet be estimated. _french official, october 27, 1916._ [illustration] _brothers in arms_ * * * * * soldiers of france, i am very happy to have been able to realise a desire which i have had at heart for a long time, and to express to you my profound admiration for your heroic exploits, for your dash as well as your tenacity, and those magnificent military virtues which are the proud heritage of the french army. under the brilliant leadership of your eminent general-in-chief and his distinguished collaborators you, officers, non-commissioned officers, and soldiers, have deserved well of your dear country, which will forever be grateful to you for your brave efforts in safeguarding and defending it. my armies are very proud to fight by your side and to have you as comrades. may the bonds which unite us hold firm and the two countries remain thus intimately united for ever. soldiers,--accept my most cordial and sincere greetings. i have no doubt that you will bring this gigantic struggle to a victorious conclusion, and, in the name of my soldiers and my country, i beg to address to you my warmest congratulations and best wishes. king george v, _order of the day, france, october 27, 1916._ [illustration] _"perhaps this one will kill my boy on the yser"_ * * * * * (belgians have been forced to labor in germany's munition works.) several of these belgians who were put at work in berlin managed to get away and come to see me. they gave me a harrowing account of how they had been seized in belgium and made to work in germany at making munitions to be used probably against their own friends. i said to the chancellor, "there are belgians employed in making shells contrary to all rules of war and the hague conventions." he said, "i do not believe it." i said, "my automobile is at the door. i can take you in four minutes to where thirty belgians are working on the manufacture of shells." but he did not find time to go. americans must understand that the germans will stop at nothing to win this war, and that the only thing they respect is force. james w. gerard, _"my four years in germany."_ [illustration] _tirpitz: "because we have sunk 30 or 40 of your merchantmen you dare to refuse our u-boats entrance to your harbours. that is an unneutral and unfriendly act against germany."_ * * * * * the german note to norway of october 20 is seriously written, but is in no respect an ultimatum. the norwegian government has returned no answer hitherto, but is in conference with prominent politicians of all parties. all is calm here, but business is somewhat depressed owing to the damage inflicted by submarines on shipping. on october 13, norway prohibited belligerent submarines from using her territorial waters, except for the purpose of saving life under stress of weather. a violent press campaign against norway followed in germany, but no indication has hitherto been given of the nature of the note presented by germany to norway on october 20. _london times correspondent, christiania, october 29, 1916._ [illustration] _slave transport from ghent_ * * * * * (two thousand french women have been deported from ghent to work in german munition factories.) the raids have taken place at courtrai, alost, termonde, bruges, ghent, mons, and in numerous rural and industrial communes. the men were assembled, examined like cattle, and those found strongest sent away to unknown destinations. at bruges, the burgomaster, an old man of eighty, who since the beginning of the occupation has given an example of noble patriotism, has been deposed for having refused to help the german military administration in its revolting task. the town was fined 100,000 marks ($25,000) for each day's delay in the enrolment of the victims. _belgian government official protest against deportation, november, 1916._ [illustration] _the new kingdom of poland_ * * * * * the liberation of poland is closely connected with the victory of germany and her allies, who alone are interested in the existence of a free poland, and for whose sake poland must not go back to russia. germany's security demands that for all future times the russian armies shall not be able to use a militarily consolidated poland as an invasion gate to silesia and west prussia. to poland liberated from russian rule we offer the possibility of seeking support in the central powers and in firm alliance with them of leading a free life in its own state, politically and economically. especially for the near future, the poles will have a strong claim on our assistance. _proclamation by_ general von beseler, _governor of warsaw, november 5, 1916._ [illustration] _belgian civilians are deported by the army in occupation to the munition works in germany to prevent their moral decay._ * * * * * the situation which we denounce to the civilised world may be summed up as follows: four hundred thousand workmen are reduced to unemployment through no fault of their own, and largely inconvenience the german occupation. sons, husbands, fathers, respectful of public order, bow to their unhappy lot. with their most pressing needs provided for, they await with dignity the end of their period of trial. now, suddenly, parties of soldiers begin to enter by force these peaceful homes, tearing youth from parent, husband from wife, father from children. they bar with the bayonet the door through which wives and mothers wish to pass to say farewell to those departing. they herd their captives in groups of tens and twenties and push them into cars. as soon as the train is filled, the officer in charge brusquely waves the signal for departure. thus thousands of belgians are being reduced to slavery. cardinal mercier _in behalf of bishops of belgium, november 7, 1916._ [illustration] _the new kingdom of poland_ * * * * * the rulers of the allied powers of austria-hungary and germany have given notification of their resolution to form of the polish territory delivered from russian tyranny the new autonomous kingdom of poland. your most ardent desire, entertained in vain for more than a century, is thus fulfilled. the importance and danger of this war-time and regard for our armies standing before the enemy oblige us for the present to keep the administration of your new state still in our hands. readily, however, we will give, with your aid, to the new poland by degrees those public institutions which guarantee her consolidation, development, and safety. of these the polish army is the most important. _proclamation by_ gov. general von beseler, _warsaw, poland, november 10, 1916._ [illustration] _the eyes of the army_ * * * * * the royal flying corps in this combination between infantry and artillery the royal flying corps played a highly important part. the admirable work of this corps has been a very satisfactory feature of the battle. under the conditions of modern war the duties of the air service are many and varied. they include the regulation and control of artillery fire by indicating targets and observing and reporting the results of rounds; the taking of photographs of enemy trenches, strong points, battery positions, and of the effect of bombardments; and the observation of the movements of the enemy behind his lines. the greatest skill and daring has been shown in the performance of all these duties, as well as in bombing expeditions. our air service has also coöoperated with our infantry in their assaults, signaling the position of our attacking troops and turning machine-guns upon the enemy infantry and even upon his batteries in action. sir douglas haig's _official report on the somme battle, december, 1916._ [illustration] _"do not miss him this time, tino"_ * * * * * it is assumed here that the agreement on the part of the greek government to surrender six batteries terminates the allied control of the greek railways and the postal and telegraphic censorship. _telegram from athens, december 3, 1916._ [illustration] _scene in the great peace pantomime. the robber's cave, germania guarding the door._ _robber chief to his gang: "boys, it's time for us to get away with the swag."_ * * * * * in a deep moral and religious sense of duty toward his nation and, beyond it, toward humanity, the emperor now considers that the moment has come for official action toward peace. his majesty, therefore, in complete harmony and in common with our allies, decided to propose to the hostile powers to enter peace negotiations. this morning i transmitted a note to this effect to all the hostile powers through the representatives of those powers which are watching over our interests and rights in the hostile states. bethmann-hollweg, _reichstag, december 12, 1916._ [illustration] _after the fall of bukharest_ _chorus, "long live the diplomacy of our enemies."_ * * * * * the germans announce the occupation of bukharest. the evacuation of the city was clearly imminent, and for some time past there has been little hope that it could be saved. as a recent semi-official statement from bukharest intimated, the forts had been disarmed and the rumanians never intended to defend it if the field defences before it could not be held. _times correspondent, december 15, 1916._ [illustration] _the french victory at verdun_ _the crown prince leaves pepper hill to occupy a second line of defence prepared beforehand._ * * * * * the french have achieved a splendid victory before verdun. the capture of the strongly fortified position of poivre ridge was decisive in its effect upon the fighting along the whole line. the ridge was turned, and when the germans, abandoning everything in their flight, found their retreat cut off, they surrendered in hundreds. _times correspondent, december 17, 1916._ [illustration] _while they talk peace_ _u-boat officer: "we have done for their ship. now fire quick into their life-boats!"_ * * * * * the degree of savagery which the germans have attained in their submarine policy of sinking merchant-ships at sight would appear to have reached its climax in the sinking of the british steam-ship _westminster_, proceeding in ballast from torre dell' annunziata to port said. on december 14 this vessel was attacked by a german submarine, without warning, when 180 miles from the nearest land, and struck by two torpedoes in quick succession, which killed four men. she sank in four minutes. this ruthless disregard of the rules of international law was followed by a deliberate attempt to murder the survivors. the officers and crew, while effecting their escape from the sinking ship in boats, were shelled by the submarine at a range of three thousand yards. the master and chief engineer were killed outright and their boat sunk. the second and third engineers and three of the crew were not picked up, and are presumed to have been drowned. great britain, in common with all other civilised nations, regards the sinking without warning of merchant-ships with detestation. _british admiralty report, december 19, 1916._ [illustration] _the peace move (ii)_ * * * * * berlin, december 14, 1916 (the berlin papers related that, after the german peace proposal had been announced, hundreds of thousands waited in the streets during the night for the answers from the allies.) soldiers: in agreement with the sovereigns of my allies, and with the consciousness of victory, i have made an offer of peace to the enemy. whether it will be accepted is still uncertain. until that moment arrives you will fight on. _the_ kaiser _to the army, december, 1916._ fully conscious of the gravity of this moment, but equally conscious of its requirements, the allied governments, closely united to one another and in perfect sympathy with their peoples, refuse to consider a proposal which is empty and insincere. once again the allies declare that no peace is possible so long as they have not secured reparation for violated rights and liberties, the recognition of the principle of nationality and of the free existence of small states, so long as they have not brought about a settlement calculated to end once and for all forces which have constituted a perpetual menace to the nations, and to afford the only effective guarantee for the future security of the world. _joint reply of entente allies to german peace proposal, december 30, 1916._ [illustration] _hurrah! "war on all neutrals at last"_ * * * * * neutral ships which navigate the barred zones will do so at their own risk. even though provision be made that neutral ships which on february 1st are en route to ports in the barred zones will be spared during an appropriate period, it is nevertheless urgently advisable that they be directed by all means available into other routes. neutral ships which are lying in harbors in the barred zones can with equal security still leave the barred zones if they depart before february 5 and take the shortest route to a free zone. _german note presented to the united states ambassador,_ mr. gerard, _amsterdam, january 31, 1917._ [illustration] _the convicts' stripes_ _america and china: "you order us to paint convicts' stripes on our ships. we will not. wear them yourselves."_ * * * * * sailing of regular american passenger steamers may continue undisturbed after february 1, 1917, if (a) the port of destination is falmouth. (b) sailing to or coming from that port course is taken via the scilly islands and a point fifty degrees north, twenty degrees west. (c) the steamers are marked in the following way, which must not be allowed to other vessels in american ports: on ship's hull and superstructure three vertical stripes one meter wide, each to be painted alternately white and red. each mast should show a large flag checkered white and red, and the stern the american national flag. care should be taken that, during dark, national flag and painted marks are easily recognizable from a distance, and that the boats are well lighted throughout. _german note announcing "unlimited" submarine warfare, january 31, 1917._ [illustration] _"go on, william! a true hohenzollern never gets enough blood"_ * * * * * under the convention belligerents have the right to search hospital ships, and the german government has, therefore, an obvious remedy in case of suspicion--a remedy which they have never utilised. from the german government's statement that hospital ships will no longer be tolerated within the limits mentioned, only one conclusion can be drawn, namely, that it is the intention of the german government to add yet other and more unspeakable crimes against law and humanity to the long list which disgraces their record. _foreign office statement, february 9, 1917._ [illustration] _germany: "till now you have left the fighting to me and kept splendidly neutral--don't part from that splendid attitude!"_ * * * * * we regret the rupture with a nation who, by her history, seemed to be predestined to work together with us, not against us, for common ideals. but since our honest desire for peace has only encountered hostile ridicule on the part of our enemies, there is no more "going back," but only "ahead" possible for us. _german memorandum, february 27, 1917._ [illustration] _the rebirth of russia_ (_a new and powerful russia rises like a phoenix from the ashes of the old reactionary regime._) * * * * * it is with sentiments of the most profound satisfaction that the peoples of great britain and of the british dominions across the seas have learned that their great ally russia now stands with the nations which base their institutions upon responsible government. much as we appreciate the loyal and steadfast coöperation which we have received from the late emperor and the armies of russia during the past two and a half years, yet i believe that the revolution whereby the russian people have based their destinies on the sure foundation of freedom is the greatest service which they have yet made to the cause for which the allied peoples have been fighting since august, 1914. it reveals the fundamental truth that this war is at bottom a struggle for popular government as well as for liberty. it shows that through the war, the principle of liberty, which is the only sure safeguard of peace in the world, has already won one resounding victory. it is the sure promise that the prussian military autocracy which began the war, and which is still the only barrier to peace, will itself before long be overthrown. _telegram from_ mr. lloyd george _to_ prince lvoff, _russian provisional government. march, 1917._ [illustration] _"we bombarded the fort of london"_ _--german official._ * * * * * latest police reports show that the casualties so far reported in to-day's air-raid are:- _killed_ _injured_ men 55 men 223 women 16 women 122 children 26 children 94 -- --- total 97 total 439 no damage of a military or naval nature was done. the following german official report was issued on wednesday:- killed 104 seriously injured 154 slightly injured 269 --- 527 including 120 children killed or injured. to-day our airmen dropped bombs on the fort of london. _british official, june 13, 1917._ [illustration] _william to japan: "i will never again make drawings about 'the yellow peril' if you will help me against 'the american peril.'"_ * * * * * on february first we intend to begin submarine warfare without restriction. in spite of this it is our intention to endeavor to keep the united states neutral. if this attempt is not successful, we propose an alliance on the following basis with mexico: that we shall make war together and together make peace; we shall give general financial support, and it is understood that mexico is to reconquer her lost territory of new mexico, texas, and arizona. the details are left to you for settlement. you are instructed to inform the president of mexico of the above in the greatest confidence as soon as it is certain that there will be an outbreak of war with the united states, and suggest that the president of mexico shall on his own initiative communicate with japan suggesting the latter's adherence at once to this plan, and at the same time offer to mediate between germany and japan. please call to the attention of the president of mexico that the employment of ruthless submarine warfare now promises to compel england to make peace in a few months. zimmermann's _letter to mexico, written january 19, published march 1, 1917._ [illustration] _the president's handicap_ _president wilson, who wishes to take measures to safeguard his country's interests and honor against hun piracy and intrigue, finds his hands tied and his appeals flouted by german americans, pacifists, and professors of "friendly diplomacy."_ * * * * * sharp opposition arose yesterday to the requisite resolution in the senate under the leadership of senators la follette and stone and a few cranky western radicals. senator la follette, who, besides being of pacifist tendencies, represents wisconsin, where the german vote is strong, had all along been expected to take advantage of the privilege of unlimited debate in order to try to kill the resolution. _times correspondent washington, march 4, 1917._ [illustration] _germany: "we have turned the richest lands of france into a gigantic region of death."_ _christ: "inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these ye have done it unto me."_ * * * * * our retreat from the old positions on the ancre and the somme has nullified the projected great anglo-french spring offensive against our center on the western front. long strips of territory, having a width of from ten to twelve kilometers (from six and one-fourth to seven and one-half miles), and running along the whole of our position, have been turned into "dead ground." no villages or farm remains standing on this glacis, no road is passable, and no bridge, railway-line, or embankment remains standing. before our new positions runs, like a gigantic ribbon, the empire. _lokalanzeiger, march 18, 1917._ [illustration] _attila: "you have burned and plundered the villages and poisoned the wells. what a hero you are, william!"_ * * * * * the commandant of outposts will direct the destruction of the various localities. the final and complete destruction of grévillers, biefvillers, aubin, and avesnes will begin at the hour of x-2. to provide the detachments for setting fire to houses each commandant in the sector will furnish two sub-officers and twenty men from the b battalions, and two stretcher-bearers with litters. the destruction of favreuil, beugnatre, and frémicourt will begin on the second day of the retirement at the hour of x-3. the destruction of morchies will be executed in the morning of the third day of the retirement, at about five o'clock.... the destruction of louverval, boursies, demicourt will begin on the third day of the retirement. for these operations the commandant of pioneers will arrange with the commandant of outposts of division s, sector iii., major von uechtritz, at doignies, in such manner that all the details of destruction not carried out under orders of the commandant of outposts shall be executed later by division s. the lighting of the incendiary fires shall be executed under command of the officers by the different detachments. the destruction of all wells is important. tiede (f. d. r.) baessler, oberleutnant. _german official._ [illustration] _for holy russia and humanity!_ _russian patriotism tramples on the traitorous pro-german dragon whose breath has paralyzed russia in the field and at home. the kaiser sees and slinks away._ * * * * * before retiring into the background the executive committee of the duma, under m. rodzianko, issued on march 20 the following noteworthy appeal to the nation: a great event has happened. by one mighty effort the russian people have overthrown the old order of things. a new free russia has been born. in the course of nine long years all the rights won by the people were taken away from it one by one. the country was once again thrown into the abyss of arbitrariness and autocracy. all attempts to bring the government to reason proved fruitless, and the great world-war into which our country was drawn by the enemy found it in a state of moral disorganisation, with a government separated from the people, indifferent to the fate of the country, and sunk in the disgrace of vices of every kind.... the people were obliged to take over the power in the state into their own hands. the unanimous revolutionary impulse of the people, animated by the sense of the importance of the hour, and the resoluteness of the duma, have created a provisional government which deems it to be its sacred and responsible duty to realise the people's aspirations and to lead the country on to the bright road of free civic organisation. m. rodzianko, _the duma, march 20, 1917._ [illustration] _the two giants_ _germany: "i destroy!" america: "i create!"_ * * * * * among the many steps which are being taken by the government to meet the emergency created by the submarine menace is the graduating of the first and second classes in the naval academy. the first class will be graduated on march 29, and the second class several weeks later. this measure will provide 374 additional naval officers. _reuter, washington, march 20, 1917._ [illustration] _william to general von fleck: "we must save these beautiful things from destruction and fire."_ * * * * * all the reports which have reached us confirm the report that the enemy has systematically pillaged and ravaged the evacuated zone, mostly without reasons of a military nature. general von fleck, the commander of the 17th german army corps, in leaving ham carried away the furniture of the house which he occupied in the town. _french official, march 22, 1917._ [illustration] _uncle sam: "so we are only a dollar making people, are we?"_ * * * * * germany never had the slightest intention of attacking the united states of america, and does not intend to do so now. germany never desired war against the united states of america, and she does not desire it to-day. how did things develop? we told the united states more than once that we announced the unrestricted use of the submarine weapon in the expectation that england could be made to observe in her blockade policy the laws of humanity and international agreements. if the american nation regards this as a reason for declaring war against the german nation, with which it has lived in peace for more than a hundred years; if by this action it wants to increase bloodshed, not we shall have to bear the burden of responsibility for it. the german nation, which feels neither hatred nor hostility towards the united states of america, will also bear this and overcome it. herr von bethmann-hollweg, _berlin, march 29, 1917._ [illustration] _in the office of a german newspaper in america_ _"my tear vellow, as long as you not forget to wave now and again a leedle american flag, you can safely go on committing high treason in the interest of our vaterland."_ * * * * * aid and comfort to our german enemy assume a peculiarly insidious and subtle form, as we are warned by leading papers in various parts of the country, in the attempts of certain journals to confuse the minds of the american people about our motives in entering the war, and to implant seeds of suspicion and distrust concerning our allies. _literary digest, april, 1917._ [illustration] _because it is thy war, it is my war_ * * * * * god of the ages, our father's god, and our god, whose holy influence has shaped and guided the destiny of our republic from its inception, we wait upon that influence to guide us in the present crisis which has been thrust upon us. diplomacy has failed; moral suasion has failed; every appeal to reason and justice has been swept aside. we abhor war and love peace. but if war has been, or shall be, forced upon us, we pray that the heart of every american citizen shall throb with patriotic zeal; that a united people may rally around our president to hold up his hands in every measure that shall be deemed necessary to protect american lives and safeguard our inherent rights. let thy blessings, we beseech thee, attend the congress now convened in extraordinary session under extraordinary conditions which call for extraordinary thought, wise counsel, calm and deliberate legislation; that its resolves and all its enactments may spring spontaneously from loyal and patriotic hearts; that our defenders on land and sea may be amply supplied with the things which make for strength and efficiency. and, o god, our heavenly father, let thy strong arm uphold, sustain, and guide us in a just and righteous cause; for thine is the kingdom, the power, and glory, forever. amen. rev. dr. henry m. couden, _in congress, u. s. a., april 2, 1917._ [illustration] _"the stars and stripes in the service of humanity"_ * * * * * we are now about to accept gage of battle with this natural foe to liberty, and shall, if necessary, spend the whole force of the nation to check and nullify its pretensions and its power. we are glad, now that we see the facts with no veil of false pretense about them, to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the peoples included: for the rights of nations great and small and the privilege of men everywhere to choose their way of life and of obedience. the world must be made safe for democracy. its peace must be planted upon the tested foundations of political liberty. we have no selfish ends to serve. we desire no conquest, no dominion. we seek no indemnities of ourselves, no material compensation for the sacrifices we shall freely make. we are but one of the champions of the rights of mankind. we shall be satisfied when those rights have been made as secure as the faith and the freedom of nations can make them. president wilson's _address to congress, april 2, 1917._ [illustration] _proud to fight_ * * * * * there are, it may be, many months of fiery trial and sacrifice ahead of us. it is a fearful thing to lead this great peaceful people into war, into the most terrible and disastrous of all wars, civilization itself seeming to be in the balance. but the right is more precious than peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts--for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and make the world itself at last free. to such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when america is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured. god helping her, she can do no other. president wilson's _address to congress, april 2, 1917._ [illustration] _"according to plan"_ _hindenburg: "we lost vimy ridge, about 12,000 prisoners, 125 guns, 70 mortars, 175 machine-guns, all according to pl...."_ _william: "shut up!"_ * * * * * hard fighting took place again this afternoon on the northern end of vimy ridge, in which we gained further important positions and took a number of prisoners and machine-guns. in the direction of cambrai we have advanced our line north of the village of louverval. such counter-attacks as the enemy has attempted at different points along our front have met with no success. the number of prisoners taken by us since the opening of our attack yesterday morning now exceeds 11,000, including 235 officers. we have also captured over 100 guns, among them a number of heavy guns up to 8-inch calibre, 60 trench mortars, and 163 machine-guns. _british official, april 10, 1917._ [illustration] _welcome to stockholm!_ _the german delegates: "ils viennent jusque dans nos bras ...."_ * * * * * according to the statements of an austrian officer, a deserter, the german chancellor has sent a number of german socialists to stockholm to interview the representatives of russian socialists and negotiate for a separate peace. another austrian deserter alleges that peace is being spoken of less frequently than formerly in the austrian army, and that everybody hopes the internal disorders in russia will help in bringing about her destruction. _russian official, petrograd, april 14, 1917._ [illustration] _austria: "why won't you trust me, little red riding hood?"_ * * * * * as it was herewith clearly demonstrated to the entire world, and especially to the people of russia, that russia was no longer forced to fight for her defences and for the freedom of her people, it should, in view of the conformity of the aims of the governments of the allies and of the russian provisional government, not be difficult to find a way toward an understanding. this the less as the emperor (charles) in agreement with the allied monarchs cherishes the hope of living in future in peace and friendship with a russian people which, as regards its internal and external conditions of life, will be secured and content. _austrian government to russia, april 15, 1917._ [illustration] _kultur v. civilisation_ * * * * * on the evening of april 17 the s.s. _donegal_ and _lanfranc_, while transporting wounded to british ports, were torpedoed without warning. the _lanfranc_, in addition to 234 wounded british officers and men, carried 167 wounded german prisoners, a medical personnel of 52, and a crew of 123. _british admiralty official, april 17, 1917._ [illustration] _american soldier: "remember we have plenty of lamp-posts for traitors."_ * * * * * it's about time for the hamstringers that are lurking in the tall grass and the sabotagists who are trying to throw monkey-wrenches into the war machinery to shut off and up or look for unpleasant consequences. these hidden-hangers do not come out in the open, even to the extent of the semi-treasonable sentiments of the pro-german socialists at st. louis. if they did, it wouldn't be necessary to pay any attention to them. they work in a more insidious way. under the guise of american citizenship they rise up every now and then, individuals or organizations of doubtful origin and purpose, to demand why the united states is in the war and what its intentions are.... americans are in no mood to tolerate national sabotage of this sort any more than plain and open aid and comfort to the enemy. every man of common sense knows why we are in the war and what we want to do. we are in it because we were forced into it by outrageous aggressions and because we are determined to make the world safe for american democracy. _chicago herald, may, 1917._ [illustration] _the socialist bait for russia_ * * * * * at the last sitting of the executive committee of the council of workmen's and soldiers' delegates, m. borgbjerg, on behalf of the labour parties of scandinavia--danish, swedish, and norwegian--conveyed an official invitation to all socialist parties in russia to the proposed international conference at stockholm. _reuter, petrograd, may 8, 1917._ [illustration] _on land and water_ _the end of the hindenburg line?_ * * * * * the washington correspondent of the associated press states that congress will be asked to appropriate $1,000,000,000 (£200,000,000) for the building of an american merchant fleet to overcome the submarine menace. * * * * * the program of the shipping board contemplates the diversion to the government of the product of every steel-mill in the united states and the cancelation of existing contracts between the mills and private consumers, and, where necessary, the payment of damages by the government to the parties whose contracts are canceled. the board estimates that from five to six million tons of steel and wooden vessels will be constructed by the government in the next two years. _associated press, washington, may 8, 1917._ [illustration] _"a poison-gas attack on new russia"_ * * * * * isolated groups of certain classes of the population, lacking conscientiousness, seek to realize their aspirations by the medium of violence, and threaten to destroy the discipline of internal policy and to create anarchy. the provisional government believes it to be its duty to declare frankly that this state of things, which renders the administration of the country difficult, may lead the country to internal disorganisation and defeat at the front. the phantom of anarchy and civil war threatening liberty arises before russia. _russian provisional government proclamation, petrograd, may 9, 1917._ [illustration] _a fool's paradise_ * * * * * as affairs are going now, it will be impossible to save the country. perhaps the time is near when we will have to tell you that we can no longer give you the amount of bread you expect or other supplies on which you have a right to count. the process of the change from slavery to freedom is not going on properly. we have tasted freedom and are slightly intoxicated. what we need is sobriety and discipline. you could suffer and be silent for ten years, and obey the orders of a hated government. you could even fire upon your own people when commanded to do so. can you now suffer no longer? we hear it said that we no longer need the front because they are fraternizing there. but are they fraternizing on all the fronts? are they fraternizing on the french front? no, comrades, if you are going to fraternize, then fraternize everywhere. are not enemy forces being thrown over upon the anglo-french front, and is not the anglo-french advance already stopped? there is no such thing as a "russian front," there is only one general allied front. kerensky, _russian minister of justice, may 14, 1917._ [illustration] _the united states for conscription_ _william: "do you mean to say that you are really going to do something?"_ * * * * * the day here named is the time upon which all shall present themselves for assignment to their tasks. it is for that reason destined to be remembered as one of the most conspicuous moments in our history. it is nothing less than the day upon which the manhood of the country shall step forward in one solid rank in defense of the ideals to which this nation is consecrated. it is important to those ideals no less than to the pride of this generation in manifesting its devotion to them, that there be no gaps in the ranks. _from_ president wilson's _proclamation of the draft law, may 18, 1917._ [illustration] _john bull: "a hearty welcome! come in, mate."_ * * * * * sir edward carson was the chief speaker at a luncheon given at princes restaurant on the 17th inst., by the navy league to the chairman and committee of the navy league of the united states. the gathering was representative of the british parliament and navy, and several american naval officers were among the guests. the duke of buccleuch, who presided, gave the toasts of "the king" and "the president of the united states." mr. irwin laughlin (councillor to the united states embassy), in responding, expressed regret that the ambassador was unable to be present. he would like to say, in thanking his grace for the very flattering and agreeable words he had been good enough to utter in regard to the president, and the alliance, that he was sure both the president and the ambassador felt that the binding force of any alliance sprang not from a matter of treaties, but from a reciprocal confidence in mutual aims. _british admiralty, official, may 22, 1917._ [illustration] _tommy: "look here, bill, here's a bit of old hindenburg's line."_ * * * * * sir douglas haig, who has never yet made a premature claim of success, has been able to announce that ten miles of the vaunted hindenburg line have passed into the possession of his gallant troops. the germans say that "there is no hindenburg line," and in one respect at least they are correct. our special correspondent, in a despatch published in this issue, declares that the hindenburg line is "now undiscoverable." the attacking forces gained possession of a very long stretch of pulverized ground, but the line itself had been battered out of recognition. _the times, may 25, 1917._ [illustration] _a good start_ * * * * * a brief _résumé_ of what the united states have accomplished during the seven weeks which have elapsed since they entered the war may not be without interest as demonstrating america's complete participation in the war and her ability to give immediate and powerful aid. a selective draft bill which will ultimately give an army of 2,000,000 men has passed congress, and will be put into operation forthwith. the loan legislation has passed congress, and the law is already in operation with prospects of the greatest success; $750,000,000 has already been advanced to the allies. _british press bureau, may 27, 1917._ [illustration] _the decision of the seamen's and firemen's union_ _"don't think, my beauty, that we are going to ship you to those german friends of yours at stockholm."_ * * * * * the following telegram, signed by mr. havelock wilson as president of the sailors' and firemen's union, has been sent to the council of workmen's and soldiers' delegates in petrograd: comrades, i am instructed by the committee of the national sailors' and firemen's union of great britain and ireland, representing 100,000 organized seamen, to inform you that we have decided not to work on any ship which conveys delegates to petrograd or stockholm until such delegates give an undertaking in writing that no war settlement can be made with germany until the german government make restitution to the relatives of allied and neutral seamen who have been murdered when endeavouring to escape from their sinking ships that were torpedoed by german submarines. we desire that you will make inquiries as to the noble part played by the british seamen's union towards the russian revolutionary party in 1905 and 1906, when, you will find, we were the true friends of russian democracy. _june, 1917._ [illustration] _germany's peace agents caught in their own trap_ * * * * * the grimm episode the german conspiracy for a separate peace received a severe setback when the general congress of workmen's and soldiers' delegates of all russia, by a vote of 640 to 121, approved the attitude of the government in expelling from russia robert grimm, a swiss socialist pacifist, who had received the following communication, when in petrograd, from m. hoffman, member of the swiss federal council: "germany will not undertake an offensive so long as she considers it possible to arrive at an understanding with russia. numerous conversations with prominent politicians lead me to believe that germany is seeking to conclude with russia a mutually honorable peace, and a peace which would result in the re-establishment of close economic and commercial relations with russia; the financial support of germany to russia for her restoration; no intervention in the internal affairs of russia; a friendly understanding with regard to poland, lithuania, and courland; and the restoration to russia of her occupied territories, in return for the districts of austria invaded by russia. i am convinced that if the allies of russia desired it, germany and her allies would be ready immediately to open peace negotiations." _current history, june, 1917._ [illustration] _the fall of the mark_ * * * * * the exchange value of the mark fell to-day to the lowest point yet recorded here, namely, 35.40 florins per 100 marks. the austrian crown also touched its lowest, the exchange being 22.40fl. the mark has fallen since june from 36.15fl. to the value above mentioned. the pre-war rate was 59.25fl. _amsterdam, june 7, 1917._ [illustration] _america's choice_ _america refuses the olive branch from "the ugly talons of the sinister power."_ _president wilson's address on flag day, june 14, 1917._ * * * * * we know now clearly, as we knew before we ourselves were engaged in the war, that we are not enemies of the german people, and they are not our enemies. they did not originate, or desire, this hideous war, or wish that we should be drawn into it, and we are vaguely conscious that we are fighting their cause, as they will some day see it themselves, as well as our own. they themselves are in the grip of the same sinister power that has stretched its ugly talons out and drawn blood from us. president wilson, _washington, june 14, 1917._ [illustration] _old and new glory_ _"for liberty, humanity, and justice we are coming, 10,000,000 of us."_ * * * * * my fellow-citizens: we meet to celebrate flag day because this flag which we honor and under which we serve is the emblem of our unity, our power, our thought, and purpose as a nation. it has no other character than that which we give it from generation to generation. the choices are ours. it floats in majestic silence above the hosts that execute those choices, whether in peace or in war. and yet, though silent, it speaks to us--speaks to us of the past, of the men and women who went before us and of the records they wrote upon it. we are about to carry it into battle, to lift it where it will draw the fire of our enemies. we are about to bid thousands, hundreds of thousands, it may be millions, of our men, the young, the strong, the capable men of the nation, to go forth and die beneath it on fields of blood far away--for what? for some unaccustomed thing? for something for which it has never sought the fire before? these are questions which must be answered. we are americans. we in our turn serve america, and can serve her with no private purpose. we must use her flag as she has always used it. we are accountable at the bar of history and must plead in utter frankness what purpose it is we seek to serve. president wilson, _washington, flag day, june 14, 1917._ [illustration] _you dared to find us out!_ _baron von rautenfels (diplomatic messenger from berlin to norway): "not how the bombs came here, but that you dared to open my luggage, is all that matters to germany."_ * * * * * the police on saturday arrested a certain baron von rautenfels, who declares that he was born in finland, but is now a german subject, and two finlanders. at their lodgings and in the luggage of these persons the police found nearly a ton of explosives of a very powerful variety. part of these explosives was made up to resemble coal briquettes, and was all ready to be mixed with the coal in ships' bunkers. the baron's luggage also contained cigarettes and tobacco mixed with carborundum, which can be used to ruin engines or machinery. the baron and the other arrested persons declare that the bombs and other explosives were to be used in finland. _christiania, june 24, 1917._ [illustration] _fraternizing on the galician front as general brusiloff understands it_ * * * * * m. kerensky (the russian war minister) and general brusiloff have organised a new offensive in galicia which has had a magnificent success, a tremendous blow being struck at the enemy. the news of victory has transformed petrograd, and the pessimism that was paralyzing the people has given way to a flood of eager patriotism. _times correspondent, petrograd, july 4, 1917._ [illustration] _the fall of the child slayer_ * * * * * three airships only were able to approach the outskirts of london. one of them appeared over the northern districts at about 2:15 a.m., where she was at once picked up by searchlights and heavily engaged by anti-aircraft guns and aëroplanes. after a few minutes the airship was seen to burst into flame and to fall rapidly towards the earth. the ship was destroyed; the wreckage, engines, and the half-burned bodies of the crew being found at cuffley, near enfield. _british official, september 3, 1916._ [illustration] _at the world's judgment seat_ * * * * * since the first day the war has been to us nothing but the defence of our right to existence and freedom. therefore we were able first and alone to declare our readiness for peace negotiations. i spoke on july 9, 1915, and afterwards repeatedly with sufficient clearness on the subject. mr. asquith and lord robert cecil do not get rid of my words by asserting that germany had announced none, or only intolerable and humiliating peace conditions. we did our part, nor does any one dare to demand that we should make offers to-day when the enemy, as m. briand recently did, characterises the conclusion of peace to-day as weakness for the memory of the dead. they continue the war because they hope to be able to attain their utopian war aims. bethmann-hollweg, _berlin, october 5, 1916._ [illustration] _"we'll give these yankees a taste of our steel"_ * * * * * eight vessels (including one passenger liner) have been torpedoed so far by the _u-53_, which has caused a sensation since her appearance in newport harbor only to move again in a few hours. as far as is known no lives have been lost. the crew of one vessel is not yet accounted for. _times correspondent, new york, october 9, 1916._ [illustration] _"we are willing now to make peace so that you may enjoy still more the blessings of our kultur."_ * * * * * a german embassy official, who stipulated that his name must not be used, said that the terms include "practically" the restoration of the _status quo ante bellum_ (including the return of germany's colonies), the creation of new kingdoms of poland and lithuania, and changes in the balkan boundaries, but at least part of serbia and rumania to be restored. _times correspondent, new york, december 12, 1916._ [illustration] _the kaiser has ordered his people a fire-eating diet_ * * * * * conjointly with the allied rulers i proposed to our enemies to enter forthwith into peace negotiations. our enemies refused my offer. their hunger for power desires germany's destruction. the war will be continued. before god and humanity i declare that on the enemy governments alone falls the heavy responsibility for all the further terrible sacrifices from which i wished to save you. with justified indignation at our enemies' arrogant crime and with determination to defend our holiest possessions and secure the fatherland's happy future, you will become as steel. our enemies did not want the understanding offered by me. with god's help our arms will enforce it. the kaiser, _january 6, 1917_. [illustration] _"dignity and impudence," new version_ _president wilson to the impudent arch-hun: "guess i'll soon find a way to get at him!"_ * * * * * neutrals cannot expect that germany, forced to fight for her existence, shall, for the sake of neutral interest, restrict the use of an effective weapon if her enemy is permitted to continue to apply at will methods of warfare violating the rules of international law. such a demand would be incompatible with the character of neutrality, and the german government is convinced that the government of the united states does not think of making such a demand, knowing that the government of the united states has repeatedly declared that it is determined to restore the principle of the freedom of the seas from whatever quarter it has been violated. _german note to_ president wilson, _february 3, 1917_. [illustration] _"unrestricted" piracy_ _william: "now we will give england the death-stroke."_ * * * * * the total english tonnage is stated to be about 20,000,000 gross register tons, and is accounted for as follows: requisitioned for military purposes, 8,500,000 tons; engaged in coastal trade, 500,000 tons; under repairs, 1,000,000 tons; plying "in the interest of the allies," 2,000,000 tons; remaining for the supply of england, 8,000,000 tons "at most." it is added that, as a matter of fact, the statistics for july to september, 1916, show only about 6,750,000 tons of english shipping as plying to england, and it is estimated that, with the addition of 900,000 tons of non-english enemy tonnage and 3,000,000 tons of neutral tonnage, england is dependent upon a round total of 10,750,000 gross register tons. _the lokalanzeiger, february 4, 1917._ [illustration] _william: "i say, capelle, are you sure we have taken the right road?"_ * * * * * this is a conflict not of armies, but of industries and economic resources. mr. lloyd george once said that the last £100,000,000 might win the war. the united states not only has the last £100,000,000, but it has many times £100,000,000. the day that this country enters the war the economic resources of the allies will be doubled. we can practically care for france while recruiting an army of our own. the german general staff may delude itself into believing that it has challenged the immediate war-power of 100,000 men. what it is really challenging is a war-power of 200,000,000,000 dollars (£40,000,000,000) and a financial and industrial system that can be indefinitely mobilized. _the new york world, february 6, 1917._ [illustration] _a good joke_ _the hun barbarian to the hollander: "i gave you my word--did you really expect me to keep it?"_ * * * * * news of the wholesale destruction of dutch vessels, after the "solicitude" so considerately shown for their safety by the german authorities, has provoked a degree of feeling far surpassing any hitherto aroused, even by the many "unfortunate occurrences" of a similar nature which holland has previously experienced at german hands. _reuter, amsterdam, february 25, 1917._ [illustration] _"i hope, dear holland, this explanation is all you want."_ _holland: "yes, thank you, it is quite sufficient."_ * * * * * seven dutch steamers which left falmouth on february 22 were attacked about 5 p.m. of the same day by a german submarine, without their papers being examined. three of the ships are known to have been sunk, one has been towed into harbor, the other three, says a lloyd's telegram, "might still be afloat." if the dutch reports are correct that these seven vessels perished, this will be deeply regretted, but responsibility for it falls on the ship-owners, who preferred to send out their vessels on february 22 on a promise of relative security instead of waiting until march 17, when absolute security was promised. the report of the submarines has not yet arrived. we regret the rupture with a nation who, by her history, seemed to be predestined to work together with us, not against us, for common ideals. but since our honest desire for peace has only encountered hostile ridicule on the part of our enemies, there is no more "going back," but only "ahead" possible for us. _imperial chancellor, berlin, february 27, 1917._ [illustration] _president wilson: "say! you are using false cards."_ _william: "yes, but only as a precaution."_ * * * * * the revelation takes the form of a letter from herr zimmermann, the german foreign secretary, to eckardt, the german minister in mexico, which was forwarded through count bernstorff and dated january 19. the letter announces unrestricted submarine warfare for february first, and instructs eckardt to negotiate an offensive alliance with general carranza, who should approach japan, apparently with the object ultimately of getting her to join in an attack upon the united states. _times correspondent, washington, march 1, 1917._ [illustration] _the berlin-bagdad snake_ _"alas! poor dear snake is dead."_ * * * * * sir stanley maude, telegraphing on march 11, announces that the british forces occupied bagdad early that morning. the english operations in mesopotamia have been accompanied by a great success. the british flag floats over bagdad and in all the bazaars of the east the news will resound that the _feringhi_ have beaten the warriors of the padishah, and captured the city which for long centuries was invested with the garment of story and fairy tale. _british press bureau, march 14, 1917._ [illustration] _helping hindenburg home_ * * * * * during the past few days a tract of land between the region of arras and the aisne was evacuated by us in accordance with plans. the movements, prepared long beforehand, were carried out without disturbance by the hesitating, pursuing enemy. the rear-guard troops, by their prudent and heroic conduct, screened the evacuation of the positions and the departure of the forces. _german official communiqué, march 19, 1917._ [illustration] _uncle sam: "so you are going to sink my ships on sight, are you?"_ _tirpitz: "i ... i ... don't think!"_ * * * * * president wilson has authorised the navy department to spend £23,000,000 to speed up naval construction and to purchase auxiliary craft. this expenditure was recently authorised by congress. _reuter, march 20, 1917._ [illustration] _poisoned wells_ * * * * * whole towns and villages have been pillaged, burned, destroyed; private houses have been stripped of all their furniture, which the enemy has carried off; fruit-trees have been torn up or rendered useless for all future production; springs and wells have been poisoned. the comparatively few inhabitants who were not evacuated to the rear were left with the smallest possible ration of food, while the enemy took possession of the stocks provided by the neutral relief committee and intended for the civil population. the fact has been established by our military authorities in the recaptured districts (says this instruction) and notably at péronne, where the branch of the banque de france was pillaged and the strong rooms were found broken open and empty, that a very large number of securities have been stolen by the german troops in their retreat. _french official protest, march 24, 1917._ [illustration] _the outcast_ * * * * * i am not now thinking of the loss of property involved, immense and serious as that is, but only of the wanton and wholesale destruction of the lives of non-combatant men, women, and children, engaged in pursuits which have always, even in the darkest periods of modern history, been deemed innocent and legitimate. property can be paid for; the lives of peaceful and innocent people cannot be. the present german warfare against commerce is warfare against mankind. it is a war against all nations. american ships have been sunk and american lives taken in ways which it has stirred us very deeply to learn of, but the ships and people of other neutral and friendly nations have been sunk and overwhelmed in the waters in the same way. president wilson, _washington, april 2, 1917._ [illustration] _"still they come"_ * * * * * according to new reports, our troops during the battle of april 16 between soissons and rheims broke up very important german forces. in expectation of our attack the enemy had brought up nineteen divisions. according to the accounts of prisoners, formal orders had been given to hold out at any cost on the first position, which had been deepened. the losses suffered by the germans were heavy not only during the battle, but on the preceding days. the number of unwounded prisoners taken by us between soissons and rheims now reaches eleven thousand. _french communiqué, april 11, 1917._ [illustration] _tommy: "you'll soon see the stars and stripes."_ _fritz: "just seen some."_ * * * * * our gains reported this morning north of the vimy ridge have been secured and our positions strengthened. during the fighting on the 9-10th inst. we captured prisoners from all infantry regiments of six german divisions--namely, 79th reserve division, first bavarian reserve division, 14th bavarian division, 11th division, 17th reserve division, and 18th reserve division. _british official, april 12, 1917._ [illustration] _william to herr scheidemann: "the turks believe i am a mahomedan, try to make the russian socialists believe i am a democrat."_ * * * * * a berlin telegram published by the "cologne gazette" states that herr scheidemann, leader of the german socialist majority party, has gone with other german socialists to stockholm, in order to get into touch with russian socialists. _reuter, april 12, 1917._ [illustration] _germany's war aims_ _bethmann-hollweg to anti-annexationist and pro-annexationist: "i cannot disclose details, but i perfectly agree with both of you."_ * * * * * what is herr von bethmann-hollweg still waiting for? if he now makes a frank and bold statement in the sense of the russian peace formula three states will stand together, namely, russia, germany, and austria-hungary. _vorwärts, may 7, 1917._ [illustration] _the ober-hof-socialist: "yes! we must make a peace without annexations."_ * * * * * at the last sitting of the executive committee of the council of workmen's and soldiers' delegates, m. borgbjerg, on behalf of the labor parties of scandinavia--danish, swedish, and norwegian--conveyed an official invitation to all socialist parties in russia to the proposed international conference at stockholm. m. borgbjerg said that, having had interviews with the german social democrats, he was able to communicate to the executive committee the peace terms proposed by the official social democratic party, i. e., the majority section. these, m. borgbjerg proceeded, recognised the right of nations to freedom of development, and advocated the introduction of compulsory international arbitration; the restitution by germany of all conquered territories; a plebiscite in russian poland, with freedom to choose between independence, annexation by russia, or annexation by germany; the restoration of independence to belgium, serbia, and rumania, and the restoration to bulgaria of the bulgarian districts of macedonia, and the granting to serbia of a free port on the adriatic. as to alsace-lorraine, they are of opinion that a rectification of the lorraine frontier could be secured by means of an amicable understanding. the program of the minority section was wider in scope. _reuter, may 8, 1917._ [illustration] _"no war or at the worst only a sham war was all that america could do, was it?"_ * * * * * flotillas of american destroyers have been sent to the submarine zone, where they are now effectively coöperating with the allied navies. one army division, a force of marines, and nine regiments of engineers have been ordered to france. ten thousand doctors, in addition to many nurses, have been ordered to england and france, and hundreds have already gone. together with the americans who are already serving in the british and french armies these additional units will shortly give a total of 100,000 americans in france, equalling five german divisions. _british press bureau, may 27, 1917._ [illustration] _air raid on london_ _german airman: "one for the babies!"_ * * * * * latest police reports show that the casualties so far reported in to-day's air raid are: _killed_ _injured_ men 55 men 223 women 16 women 122 children 26 children 94 -- --- total 97 total 439 no damage of a military or naval nature was done. _british communiqué, june 13, 1917._ [illustration] _ferdinand: "i am much too popular to be treated like tino or nicholas."_ * * * * * the high commissioners of france, great britain, and russia, having demanded by their note of yesterday the abdication of king constantine and the appointment of his successor, the undersigned prime minister and minister of foreign affairs has the honor to bring to your excellency's knowledge that the king, solicitous as always solely for the interest of greece, has decided to leave the country with the crown prince, and to designate as his successor prince alexander. m. zaimis, _june 13, 1917._ [illustration] _reprisals_ _the only answer_ * * * * * the important announcement that the city will be warned in future when an air raid is threatened was made on sunday by the lord mayor, at a meeting at the london opera house, called to demand reprisals for air raids. a resolution calling on the government to undertake air reprisals on german towns and cities was passed, amidst great cheering. _london, june 19, 1917._ [illustration] _a disguise that was too thin_ _bethmann-hollweg: "that socialist's disguise is no good, all highest. let's try another clerical peace trick."_ * * * * * all over the world attempts were made to create distrust of german social democracy. we were described as being really war agitators, obedient servants of german imperialism. the memorandum on our peace work which we delivered at stockholm will, we hope, destroy many misunderstandings and many prejudices which are based on them. of course the misstatements and slanders have already begun again. herr scheidemann, _stockholm, june 29, 1917._ [illustration] _dr. michaelis: "the concentration of the russian army compelled germany to seize the sword. there was no choice left to us."_ * * * * * we must keep before our eyes daily the events of three years ago, which are fixed in history and show that we were forced into war by russia's secret mobilization, which was the great danger for germany. to have participated in a conference while the russian mobilization proceeded would have been political suicide. herr michaelis, _berlin, july 27, 1917._ [illustration] _the new st. george_ _"give us the means and we will slay this german dragon that threatens our towns, our women, and children."_ * * * * * southend was bombed by about a dozen german aëroplanes this evening while the place was full of holiday-makers. the attack lasted a quarter of an hour and resulted in the death of twenty-three people, the majority of whom were women and children. about forty people were injured. one of the victims was a little girl, who was terribly mangled, and another was a woman, who was also badly mutilated. _times, august 17, 1917._ [illustration] _german "militarist" socialism_ * * * * * does not the cartoonist raemaekers fail in this cartoon? the artist raemaekers is inspired--here as always. but does the cartoonist succeed this time in burning the right idea, his idea, into the reader's brain? here is the real kaiser and here are real german workingmen. it is they who are carrying the burden of kaiserism. all this is convincing. but do not other workingmen in other countries carry burdens? the failure is only at first glance. raemaekers is not concerned to reproduce the conventional cartoon of workingmen carrying a burden of other classes on their shoulders. the point lies not in the burden, but in the nature of the burden, the contrast, so perfectly portrayed, between the character of the kaiser and the characters of his proud and willing slaves. the kaiser, crafty and contemptuous, but neither so ignorant nor so stupid as to be wholly unconscious of the foolish and contemptible position he occupies! the workingmen evidently once strong, intelligent and enthusiastic, though now blinded and crippled, are utterly unconscious of what they are doing. carrying the heavy burden of kaiserism seems no more to them than their day's work. you see raemaekers knows both kaiser and workingmen, and so will have nothing to do with the conventional portraits of either. the kaiser is neither a beast nor a fool--however foolish his position may be. the workingmen are neither labor heroes ready to revolt, nor conscious and beaten serfs. william english walling. [illustration] _the annexation of america_ _"i think, all highest, we had better not insist upon the annexation of america."_ * * * * * in the inscription "ten million men between 21 and 30" on the statue of liberty, raemaekers has as usual gone to the heart of things. ten million trained citizen soldiers!!! what an insurance of peace and security against attack or insult. universal citizen military education and training. from the beginning the first article in our internatíonal creed has been the monroe doctrine--america for americans. if the result of the present war shall be to add two additional items to that creed, namely universal military education and training, and the united states, the first air power in the world, it will be worth all that it costs, and this great nation can go on in peace and security to work out the mighty destiny awaiting it. raemaekers' placing "all highest" and his aide upon the conning tower of a submarine, suggests another most vital matter at this present time. the submarine has held the world's spotlight for the last two years. its deadly efficiency is universally conceded. that deadly efficiency is the direct result of admiral von tirpitz's unyielding insistence on a centralized, independent, untrammeled department for the submarine. peary. [illustration] _a rehearsal_ _"when i say, down with wilson! you all cheer!"_ [illustration] _at the holland frontier_ * * * * * whether the war be long or short, the quickest road to peace is the road straight ahead of us, with no division among the american people. william jennings bryan. [illustration] _restitution and reparation_ * * * * * the prussian theory of right and justice is this: "what is mine is mine. what is yours is also mine if i want it." this idea is deep buried beneath the thick bone of the prussian head. he holds it with stolid stupidity and deep, prehistoric crudity, like a pig or an idiot. he cannot understand that there are any rights higher than prussian greed. "if i want it, it is mine because i want it." it is the logic of the primitive human animal, the caveman. cornered and accused of his thefts he clings to his loot like the pig that has stolen a carrot. when asked to disgorge he is shocked by the suggestion. "but they are mine! i wanted them, so they are mine!" he says. right and justice answer, "they are not yours; you stole them." "maybe so!" says the prussian. "but just the same they are mine--i stole them a long time ago." the logic of the prussian fills ten thousand volumes. it is written in hundred-line paragraphs and six-inch words. it can be condensed into two short words--piggish greed; piggish because it knows neither right nor justice, greed because it is greed. ellis parker butler. [illustration] _"something's wrong. she doesn't seem to inspire confidence"_ * * * * * it is germany's "kultur," her spiritual code, that is responsible for america's entrance into the war; her gruesome sacrifice to moloch of all which distinguishes humanity from the brute and the savage. it is her philosophy which has made us her horrified but resolute foe. the fruits of her spirit stand forth alike in her speech and acts. "kultur is a spiritual organization of the world, which does not exclude bloody savagery. it raises the dæmoniac to sublimity. it is above morality, reason, science," so wrote a teutonic expounder in the first year of the war. "we have become a nation of wrath; we think only of the war. we execute god almighty's will, and the edicts of his justice we will fulfil, imbued with holy rage, in vengeance upon the ungodly. god calls us to murderous battles, even if worlds should thereby fall to ruins," so wrote one of germany's poets. "whoever cannot prevail upon himself to approve from the bottom of his heart the sinking of the _lusitania_, whoever cannot conquer his sense of the gigantic cruelty to unnumbered perfectly innocent victims--and give himself up to honest delight at this victorious exploit of german defensive power--him we judge to be no true german," so wrote one of her pastors. and for hideous, ruthless deeds which violate every sanctity and deify falsehood we need but cite her slaughter of children and the aged, her poisoning of wells, her shooting of nurses, her sinking of hospital ships, her brutal deportations and all the revolting sinuosities of her spy system. robert grant. [illustration] _"when i was a child, it was you who saved me"_ * * * * * whether it is that an invigorating climate has given our anglo-saxon blood a piquant gallic flavor or because europe sent us for ancestors only those light-hearted and adventurous souls with a spirit akin to that we admire in the french people, true it is that americans have always had an especial liking for france and the french. they were our first allies as they are the latest. from lafayette and rochambeau to joffre and viviani, a host of frenchmen have won the affectionate regard of americans and are numbered with our national heroes. with their french allies americans can work in most cordial understanding and sympathy. that subtle spirit of unselfish dedication to country which has won for the french the admiration of the world consecrates the alliance of the peoples who are giving their sons in common sacrifice to save liberty to the world. out of the heat and turmoil of war bonds are being forged between the allied nations which time and circumstance can never sever. on that alliance the hope of civilization depends; from it may come, in god's good time, some great forward step in the march of progress which began at a manger in bethlehem. myron t. herrick, _cleveland, ohio, march, 1918_. [illustration] _for merit_ * * * * * if, as the artist suggests, and the plainest reading of the facts of the fruitless verdun assault seems to confirm, lives of men were squandered in a reckless attempt to save the princeling's face (which was, in fact, beyond saving), then does he richly deserve the grim decoration with which in the name of infamy he is here invested--the order of butchery, with knives. and you may view the crosses upon the pathetic mounds before verdun as so many entries in the recording angel's ledger. joseph thorp. [illustration] [transcriber's note: italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and superscript is denoted by {curly brackets}.] _manners & customs of ye englyshe_ [illustration: manners & cvstoms of y{e} englyshe] drawn from ye qvick by richard doyle with extracts from mr. pips his diary by percival leigh t·n·foulis london & edinburgh 1911 _the publisher has to acknowledge his indebtedness to messrs. bradbury, agnew, & co. ltd., the publishers of the original edition of this work, for permission kindly granted to include in this new edition several copyright pictures with their accompanying text._ _november 1911_ _printed by_ morrison & gibb limited, _edinburgh_ _contents of ye volume._ _ye contributor hys preface_ _page_ vii _a cydere cellare duryng a comyck songe_ 1 _an "at home." ye polka_ 3 _ye fashonable worlde in hyde parke_ 5 _a drawynge room day_ 7 _smythfield cattle markete_ 9 _a few friends to tea, and a lyttle musyck_ 11 _ye national sporte!!! of steeple chasynge_ 13 _ye commons ressolved into a commytte_ 15 _ye public its excytemente on ye appearance of miss lind_ 17 _a prospect of exeter hall_ 19 _ye exhybityon at ye royal academye_ 21 _a view of epsom downes on ye derbye daye_ 23 _a prospect of greenwich fair_ 25 _kensyngton gardens with ye bande playinge there_ 27 _ye hyghest court of law in ye kyngdom_ 29 _ye flower showe at chysyk gardens_ 31 _"socyetye" enjoyinge itselfe at a soyrée_ 33 _a view of mr. lorde hys cryket grounde_ 35 _a raylwaye meetynge_ 37 _a prospect of ye thames its regatta_ 39 _a raylway statyon_ 41 _ye brytysh granadiers amountynge guard_ 43 _a prospect of a fashyonable haberdasher hys shope_ 45 _regente streete at four of ye clocke p.m._ 47 _blackwall_ 49 _ye sporte of punte fyshynge off rychmonde_ 51 _trycks of ye london trade_ 53 _madame tussaud her wax werkes_ 55 _deere stalkynge in ye hyghlandes_ 57 _a prospect of an election_ 59 _a partie of sportsmen out a shutynge_ 61 _ye wyne vaults at ye docks_ 63 _a weddynge breakfaste_ 65 _a theatre. ye house amused by ye comycke actor_ 67 _a prospecte of ye zoological societye its gardens_ 69 _westminster hall_ 71 _a prospecte of ye 5th of november_ 73 _a banquet of ye agricultural interest_ 75 _ye appearance of ye crymynyal courte_ 77 _a promenade concerte_ 79 _ye serpentyne during a hard frost_ 81 _a fashionable club. four o'clock p.m._ 83 _the circus at astley's_ 85 _ye fathers of ye churche gyving judgmente_ 87 _a juvenile partye_ 89 _a grande review_ 91 _a pic-nic_ 93 _vauxhall_ 95 _a scientific institution_ 97 _ye contributor hys preface_ suppose the great-grandfather of anybody could step down from his picture-frame and stalk abroad, his descendant would be eager to hear his opinion of the world we live in. most of us would like to know what the men of the _past_ would say of the _present_. if some old philosopher, for instance socrates, exchanging robes for modern clothes, lest he should be followed by the boys and taken up by the police, could revisit this earth, walk our streets, see our sights, behold the scenes of our political and social life, and, contemplating this bustling age through the medium of his own quiet mind, set down his observations respecting us and our usages, he would write a work, no doubt, very interesting to her majesty's subjects. it would answer the purpose of a skilful literary enchanter to "unsphere the spirit of plato," or that of pythagoras, aristotle, or any other distinguished sage of antiquity, and send it out on its rambles with a commission to take, and report, its views of things in general. but such necromancy would have tasked even the warlock of the north, would puzzle the wizard of any point of the compass, and, it is probable, could be cleverly achieved by no adept inferior to the ingenious mr. shakspeare. however, there flourished in a somewhat later day a philosopher, for such he was after his fashion, a virtuoso, antiquary, and _f.r.s._, whose ghost an inconsiderable person may perhaps attempt to raise without being accused of pretending to be too much of a conjuror. he appears to have been a _peripatetic_, at least until he could keep a coach, but on the subjects of dress, dining, and some others, his opinions favour strongly of _epicurism_. a little more than a hundred and eighty years ago he employed his leisure in going about everywhere, peeping into everything, seeing all that he could, and chronicling his experiences daily. in his _diary_, which happily has come down to our times, the historical facts are highly valuable, the comments mostly sensible, the style is very odd, and the autobiography extremely ludicrous. i have adventured reverently to evoke this worshipful gentleman, that, resuming his old vocation as a journalist, he might comment on the "_manners and customs of ye englyshe_," in the name of mr. pips. i hope his shadow, if not his spirit, may be recognised in the following pages. percival leigh. [illustration: _a cidere cellare during a comick songe._ saturday, _march 10, 1849_.] to drury lane this evening, to see the horsemanship, which did divert me mightily; but had rather it had been at astley's, which is the fitter place for it. after that, to supper at the cider cellars in maiden lane, wherein was much company, great and small, and did call for kidneys and stout, then a small glass of _aqua-vitæ_ and water, and thereto a cigar. while we supped, the singers did entertain us with glees and comical ditties; but lack, to hear with how little wit the young sparks about town are tickled! but the thing that did most take me was to see and hear one ross sing the song of sam hall the chimney-sweep, going to be hanged: for he had begrimed his muzzle to look unshaven, and in rusty black clothes, with a battered old hat on his crown and a short pipe in his mouth, did sit upon the platform, leaning over the back of a chair: so making believe that he was on his way to tyburn. and then he did sing to a dismal psalm-tune, how that his name was sam hall, and that he had been a great thief, and was now about to pay for all with his life; and thereupon he swore an oath which did make me somewhat shiver, though divers laugh. then, in so many verses, how his master had badly taught him and now he must hang for it; how he should ride up holborn hill in a cart, and the sheriffs would come, and then the parson, and preach to him, and after them would come the hangman; and at the end of each verse he did repeat his oath. last of all, how that he should go up to the gallows; and desired the prayers of his audience, and ended by cursing them all round. methinks it had been a sermon to a rogue to hear him, and i wish it may have done good to some of the company. yet was his cursing very horrible, albeit to not a few it seemed a high joke; but i do doubt that they understood the song and did only relish the oaths. strange to think what a hit this song of sam hall hath made, and how it hath taken the town, and how popular it is not only among tavern haunters and frequenters of night houses, but also with the gentry and aristocracy who do vote it a thing that ought to be heard though a blackguard, and look in at the cider cellars night by night after dinner at their clubs to hear it sung. after sam hall, to pay for my supper, which cost me 2s. 2d., besides 4d. to the waiter; and then home in a cab, it being late, and i fearing to anger my wife, which cost me 2s. more; but i grudged not the money, having been much diverted, and so to bed. [illustration: _an "at home." ye polka._ wednesday, _march 21st, 1849_.] to-night to an evening party with my wife, to sir hilary jinks's, whereunto we had been bidden to come at 10 of the clock; for sir hilary and her ladyship have taken to keeping rare hours. thereat was a goodly company of about an hundred, and the women all very fine, my wife in her last year's gown, which i am tired of, and do hate to see. but did not tell her that, knowing she would have said how soon i might rid me of that objection. we did fall to dancing quadrilles, wherein i made one, and had for my partner a pretty little black damsel, whom after the dance was ended, did hand to a sofa, and thereon sit me by her side; but seeing my wife looking hard at us, did presently make my bow, and go away. and, my wife seated by the wall, to walk about the room, and speak with such as i thought like to tell me something worth hearing, but told me nothing i cared to hear, they all shunning to talk, and in their white ties, and waistcoats, and kid gloves, starch, and constrained, and ill at ease, which was ridiculous. then to look on while some did dance the polka, which did please me not much, for had beheld it better danced at the _casino_, and do think it more suitable to such a place than to a drawing room. the young fellows did take their partners by the waist, and these did lean upon the other's shoulders, and with one arm stretched out, and holding hand in hand, they did spin round the room together. but, lack! to see the kicking up of heels and stamping of them on the ground, which did mightily remind me of _jim crow_. in truth, i am told that the polka is but a peasant's hop, from hungary, and to think now of persons of quality cutting such capers! sir hilary to his taste; but a minuet for me at home, with gentlewomen, and a polka with milkmaids at a maying or show girls in a booth. meanwhile the servants did hand round glasses of negus, which was poor stuff; and those who listed to supper when they chose, in a side room, off wretched sandwiches of the size of the triangles of euclid his _geometry_, which did think shabby. expected chicken and lobster salad, with champagne, and oysters and ale and stout, but disappointed. home in a cab, at two in the morning, much wearied and little pleased; and on our way home, spying a tavern open, did go and get me a pint of beer, and the same to my wife; for we were both athirst, and she in an ill humour about the beauty i had danced with, and i because of the bad supper; and so very ill-contented to bed. [illustration: _ye fashonable worlde tayknge its exercyse in hyde parke._ tuesday, _march 27th, 1849_.] this day to the ring in hyde park for a walk to get me an appetite, and look at the fine folks and people of fashion riding in their carriages, which it do much delight me to behold. but, good lack! what a strange notion of the pleasure of a drive; with the carriages in a close line jammed all together, and sometimes coming to a dead stop like the omnibuses in fleet street of an afternoon, and seldom moving on faster than mourning coaches at a funeral. did see many mighty pretty young ladies; and one sitting in a landau with a coronet on the panel, upon whom i did smile, but perceiving that she did turn up her nose at me, i did look glum; howbeit, another comely damsel that i smiled at did blush and simper, which gave me joy. it was as good as a play to watch the young guardsmen, with their tufts and mustaches, riding straight-legged, and them and the other bucks taking off their hats and kissing their hands to the charming belles as they passed them by. but it was rarer still to behold a snob that strove to do the same sort of thing, and did get laughed at for his pains. then what sport to observe the fat coachmen, in their wigs, something like bishops', sitting on their boxes, and the footmen behind with their parti-coloured liveries of drab and green, and red and yellow plush, and gold-laced hats, shoulderknots and cockades, bearing their canes, and their noses to the sky, holding their heads as high as peacocks for pride in their frippery and plump calves! these fellows are as fine as court cards, and full as ridiculous, and they do divert me in the extreme: only their bepowdered pates do offend me, for i think the fashion an uncleanly one; and after all, i wonder how their masters and mistresses can delight in dressing them out so much like mountebanks. did note divers noble lords and gentlemen of the house of commons whom i did know either by sight or from the caricatures in the shop-windows. from four to five o'clock around the ring and up and down by the serpentine to make my observations. methought how jolly these fine people must be, and how happy they looked compared to a beggar boy whom i did spy squatting on the grass: yet no doubt many of them have troubles enough, and some may be even short of cash to pay for their vanities. after that, to the corner, by the powder magazine, nigh to kensington gardens, to see the company alight from their carriages, and take an inventory of the ladies' dresses, whereof to furnish an account to my wife. then away home at half-past five, and so to dinner off a shoulder of mutton and onion-sauce, which my wife doth make exceeding well, and my dinner did content me much; and thereupon i did promise my wife a new bonnet, the like whereof i had seen on a countess in the park, and so both in great good humour, and very loving all the evening. [illustration: _a drawynge room day. saynte james hys streete._ thursday, _march 29th, 1849_.] to see the nobility and gentry, and other great company, go to the queen's drawing-room, with a friend to st. james's street, where did stand in front of boodle's club-house in the rain, which was heavy, and spoiled my paris hat, cost me twelve shillings. but the sight of the show almost worth the damage; for the red and blue uniforms of the army and navy officers with their orders on their breasts, and their cocked hats and plumes in their laps, and the ladies of quality in their silks and satins of all manner of colours, and their hair crowned with ostrich feathers, and sparkling with pearls and diamonds, did much delight me to behold. but i wish i could have had as good a view of the gentlefolks within the carriages as i had of the lackeys outside, who, with their supercilious airs, and their jackanapes garb, did divert me more than ever. i do continually marvel at the enormous calves of those varlets, for which one might almost think they were reared, like a sort of cattle. indeed, i should have believed that their stockings were stuffed, if i had not seen one of them wince when a horse chanced to lay hold of his leg. it did more and more amaze me to observe how high they carried their noses, especially as most of them had posies in their bosoms; whereas they looked as though, instead, there were some unsavoury odour beneath their nostrils. but much as the servants resembled zanies and harlequins, yet did some of their masters look not much better; being dressed in a court suit, which methinks do make a gentleman seem a sort of embroidered quaker. i do greatly wonder why the ugliest apparel of any date in english history should be pitched upon for the court dress. but the splendid carriages painted with coats of arms, and the stately caparisoned horses, did make a rare show; and among them mighty droll to mark the hack cabs not suffered to enter at the palace gate; so the fares had to alight and walk on foot the rest of the way to the drawing-room: and so into the presence of her majesty in dirty boots: which was not seemly; but many of them are half pay officers, and other poor subjects, who could afford no better than a cab. pleased to see the police with their truncheons, keeping order among the vagabonds, till one did tell me to move on, which did vex me. then there were the guards, in full uniform on horseback, with their helmets on their heads and their swords drawn, about one under each lamp post, mounting guard, and i believe this is the heaviest part of their duty. what with the blazing uniforms and glittering jewels, my eyes were dazzled and my head did somewhat ache; moreover, some pretty faces put my heart in a flutter, which did not think fit to mention to my wife. methinks how fine it would be to ride in state to court, if it were not so chargeable, and i should much delight in the honour and glory of the thing, but not like the expense. a drawing-room doth altogether eclipse the lord mayor's show; although it do seem but a toy and gilt gingerbread affair, and an empty, childish display, like the babies' game of king and queen; but then it hath certainly this advantage, that it do much good to trade. [illustration: _smythfield cattle markete._ monday, _april 9th, 1849_.] up betimes, it being scarcely light, to smithfield, to see the cattle market, which i do think a great disgrace to the city, being so nasty, filthy, and dangerous a place in the very heart of london. i did observe the manner of driving the beasts together, used by the drovers, which did disgust me. to force the oxen into their places, they have stout cudgels, pointed with iron goads or prods, wherewith they thrust the creatures in the flesh of their hind quarters, or with the cudgel belabour them on the hock. these means failing, they do seize the animal's tail and give it a sudden wrench with a turn of the wrist, whereby they snap the tail-bone, and so twist and wring the spinal cord till he pushes forward as far as they would have him. some, not getting room for the beasts in the pens, do drive them into circles called ring droves, with their hind parts outwards, and their heads forced as close as may be together: this done by beating them with all their might about the head and eyes, and between the horns, which they do call pething them. then to see how they crowd the sheep into the pens by dogging them as their word is, which means baiting them with dogs that do tear the sheeps' eyes, ears, and cheeks, until they worry such numbers in, that not one can budge an inch. all this cruelty is caused by the market not being big enough: for which reason they are obliged to force the unlucky brutes into the smallest possible space. what with the oaths and curses of the drovers and butchers and the barking of their dogs and the cries of the animals in torture, i do think i never heard a more horrid din in my life. the hearing was as bad as the seeing, and both as bad as could be, except the smell, which was worse than either. but to be sure it was good sport to see here and there a fat grazier overthrown by a pig running between his legs, and so upsetting him in the mire. it were well if it were never worse; but with mad oxen driven from the market through streets full of people, it continually happens that some person is tossed and gored, and one of these days it will be an alderman, and then smithfield will be put an end to. no doubt it would have been done away with long ago, but for the tolls and dues which the corporation do derive from the market. this is why they do keep up a nuisance which did well nigh poison me; though one of them at a meeting did declare that he thought smithfield salubrious, and did send his children to walk there for change of air, which if it were for the better, methinks that gentleman's dwelling-house should be a sweet abode. all but the citizens do say that parliament ought to abolish this nuisance; but it is thought that my lord john dare not stir in the matter, because he is member for the city. to breakfast to an early coffee house, having lost my pocket handkerchief, cost me 5s., doubtless by the pickpockets, of whom smithfield, besides its other recommendations, is a great resort. but content, not having had an ox's horn in my stomach, and having seen all i wanted, and do not wish to see any more. [illustration: _a few friends to tea, and a lyttle musyck._ tuesday, _april 17, 1849_.] to mr. jiggins's, where my wife and i were invited to tea and a little musique, but we had much musique and little tea, though the musique was like the tea in quality, and i do prefer a stronger kind of musique as well as liquor. yet it was pleasing enough to the ear to hear the fashionable ballads, and the airs from all the new italian operas sung by the young ladies; which, though they expressed nothing but common-place love and sentiment, yet were a pretty sing-song. but to see the young fellows whilst a beauty was singing crowd round her, and bend over her shoulders, and almost scramble to turn over the leaves of her musique book! besides the singing, there was playing of the piano forte, with the accompaniment of a fiddle and bass violl, the piano being played by a stout fat lady with a dumpling face; but for all her being so fat it did amaze me to see how nimbly she did fillip the keys. they did call this piece a concerto, and i was told it was mighty brilliant; but when i asked what fancy, passion, or description there was in it, no one could tell; and i verily thought the brilliancy like that of a paste buckle. it had not even an air to carry away and whistle, and would have pleased me just as well if i had stopped my ears, for i could discern nothing in it but musical sleight of hand. but good lack! to think how, in these days, execution is everything in musique, and composition little or nothing: for almost no account is made of the master, and a preposterous value put upon the player, or artiste, as the frenchified phrase now is! after the concerto, some polkas and waltzes, which did better please me; for they were a lively jingle certainly, and not quite unmeaning. strange, to find how rare a thing good musique is in company; and by good musique i mean such as do stir up the soul, like the flowers and sunshine in spring, or storms and tempests, or ghostly imaginations, or the thought of great deeds, or tender or terrible passages in poetry. my wife do play some brave pieces in this kind, by mynheer van beethoven, and i would rather hear her perform one of them, than all i did hear to-night put together; and so i did tell her when we got home, which did content her well. but every one to his taste; and they who delight in the trivial style of musique to theirs, as i to mine, not doubting that the english, that have but just begun to be sensible to musique at all, will be awake to the nobler sort of it by-and-by. and, at any rate, an evening of insipid musique and weak tea is better than sitting toping and guzzling after dinner. [illustration: _ye national sporte!!! of steeple chasynge._ monday, _april 23, 1849_.] down the road to a steeple chase, which i had never seen before, and did much long to behold: for of all things i do love diversion and merriment; and both mr. strappes and sir william spurkins did tell me there would be rare sport. got a place in the grand stand, cost me half-a-guinea, which was loth to part with, but thought i should have brave entertainment for so much money. did find myself here in fine company, dukes, and earls, and lords and ladies too, which did please me; but among them some snobs, in stable-cut-clothes, with spotted neckcloths and fox-headed breast-pins; though some of these were lords too, who seemed to have been at pains to look like ostlers. to see the crowd on horseback and in carriages, and those on foot pushing and scrambling, and trampling each other to get a sight of the course, as if there had been going to be a coronation, or a man hanged! the course, marked out with flags, and having hurdles, posts, fences, rails, hedges, drains, ditches, and brooks in the way; and this sportsmen do call the country, and say such a country is a teaser, and so i should think. by-and-by jockies in their saddles, but their word is pig-skins, looking, in their gay colours, like tulips on horseback, which was a pretty sight. then a bell rung to clear the course, and the horses with their riders drawn up ready to start, and presently a flag flourished for a signal: and so they off. good lack, to see them galloping helter-skelter, like mad, through rivers, and over hedges and ditches, and the whole thing done in ten minutes! some did jump the fences and hedges, which they about me did term raspers, clean over; but others not so lucky, and stuck in brambles or on stakes, or between double rows of posts, with a quickset in the middle, whereof the cant name is bullfinchers. others upset in ditches; and one or two of them not able to get up again, and carried away upon some of the hurdles; and when the race was over, three horses found lying with their backs broken, and so shot. sir william did inform me that it was a tidy field, which i could not agree, with the raspers and palisades upon it, and the horses spiked, or sprawling with their riders on the ground with broken backs and limbs. nor did i understand the fun of this part of the thing; wherefore i suppose i must be dull; for it do seem to be the chief delight that people take in it. for, as if the gates and rails belonging to the ground were not dangerous enough, they do set up others called made fences, being stubborn posts and stakes twisted with briars and brambles, which do seem to be meant for nothing but to be tumbled over, and in that case to do as much mischief, as may be, to man and beast. the horses mostly ridden by jockeys for hire; but some by their owners, who, methinks, do set a sufficient value upon their own existence when they venture their necks in riding a steeple chase; but i do blame them for risking the life of a useful horse. [illustration: _ye commons ressolved into a commytte of ye whole house._ friday, _april 27, 1849_.] to the house of commons, where an irish debate on the rate-in-aid bill, which did make me drowsy. the house in committee; the irish members moving all sorts of frivolous amendments, abusing the government, and quarrelling among themselves. sir h. barron did accuse mr. reynolds of being ready to vote away other people's money because he had none of his own, and mr. reynolds did say that he never saw such misery as on sir h. barron's estate; whereupon sir h. barron up in a rage, and did deny the fact with vehement gestures, flourishing his fists gallantly. then mr. reynolds did fall foul of mr. bateson, one that had been a captain, for questioning the chancellor of the exchequer concerning young reynolds's place; and did make a joke upon mr. bateson's mustachios: whereat much laughter. but a small joke do go a great way in the house of commons. before the debate, lord john russell marching up one of the side galleries, and taking the measure of the house through his eye-glass: a sharp delicate little man, with a mild voice, but do carry himself stately. methought his observations amused him, for he smirked a little, and looked as if he knew the customers he had to deal with. but to see him and the home secretary and the chancellor of the exchequer trying to persuade the irish members not to press their ridiculous motions to a division, wheedling and coaxing them, as smiling and civil as haberdashers! the bill to be reported to-morrow; and then the house to a little ordinary business; and mr. horsman's bill postponed, through the irish cavilling and squabbling. then a debate on naming the committee on savings banks; and made an irish question too; the dispute how many irish members were to serve on the committee: and the end, the naming of the committee delayed. this way of doing business in the house of commons makes it no wonder how little is done; and the chief cause is the irish members haranguing upon nothing and quarrelling about straws, which do seem to me a childish and spiteful attempt to give trouble to government. i did hope to hear a speech from sir robert peel, but was disappointed, which did vex me; but heard a few words from colonel sibthorp, which made mighty laughter, and were as sensible as any thing i heard all the evening: and the colonel in a brave waistcoat, with his droll figure did divert me much. last of all, a settlement of the smithfield committee: and i do wonder this became not an irish matter too. the house adjourning at half-past one in the morning; and to see the number of members lying asleep on the gallery benches! all this while nothing whatever done of more importance than parish business at a vestry. i off to supper in the haymarket on pickled salmon and stout, cost me 1s. 6d., and then home and to bed, past 2 o'clock, and my wife do say that the house of commons keep worse hours than any tavern in town. [illustration: _ye public its excytemente on ye appearance of miss lind._ saturday, _may 5, 1849_.] to the queen's house in the haymarket to hear jenny lind, whom everybody do call the swedish nightingale. did go with a pit ticket, cost me 8s. 6d., which is a mighty sum of money to pay for only the chance of a seat. went at 6 p.m., expecting a crowd, and there a mob of people already at the doors, and some did say they had come as early as five. got as close as i could to the pit entrance, and the throng increasing; and by-and-by ladies in their opera dresses standing without their bonnets in the street. many of them between the carriage wheels and under the horses' heads: and methinks i did never see more carriages together in my life. at last the doors open; which i began to fear they never would, and i in with the press, a most terrible crush, and the ladies screaming and their dresses torn in the scramble, wherefore i thought it a good job that my wife was not with me. with much ado into the pit, the way being stopped by a snob in a green jockey coat and bird's eye neckcloth, that the checktakers would not suffer to pass. the pit full in a twinkling, and i fain to stand where i best might, nigh to fop's alley: but presently a lady fainting with the heat and carried out, which i glad of; i mean that i got her place. i did never behold so much company in the house before; and every box full of beauties, and hung with yellow satin curtains, did show like a brave picture in a gold frame; which was very handsome to look round upon while the musicians were tuning. the fiddles tuned, and the overture played, the curtain up for the opera; which was the _sonnambula_; the part of _amina_ acted by jenny. the moment she came on the stage, the audience, lords, ladies, and all, upon their legs, shouting, cheering, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and clapping of hands in white kid gloves. but at last they silent, and let the nightingale sing: and for certain she is a wonderful singer. it did amaze me to hear how easy and sweetly she do trill and warble the most difficult passages: and i perceive she hath a rare ability of voice. but what did no less astonish me was her acting, it being as good as her singing; for she did seem to forget herself in her part, instead of her part in herself; which is the mistake of most opera singers. to think that she should draw the whole town in crowds together to hear her sing a few pretty sugar-plum melodies and portray the grief of a poor peasant wench cast off by her lover! but she do put a grace and beauty of her own into the character and musique: which i take to be the mark of a true genius. she made to sing divers songs twice over, and called upon the stage at the end of the act, and again when the opera was finished; when, good lack, to see the nosegays and posies flung in heaps upon the stage! she must needs get a mint of money by her singing; but she has spent a deal of it in building hospitals, and i do wish (heaven forgive me!) i had all she has given away in charity. [illustration: _a prospect of exeter hall. showynge a christian gentleman denouncynge ye pope._ wednesday, _may 9, 1849_.] went this morning to exeter hall, where one of the may meetings that do regularly take place at this time of the season, and serve in lieu of concerts and shows to a sort of people that call themselves serious. this, one of the meetings of a protestant association, which i had heard much of and did long to go to, expecting to hear some good argument against the roman catholiques. but instead of argument, i did hear nothing but abuse, which do always go in at one ear and out at the other. no new point brought forward to confute popery; but only an iteration of the old charges of superstition and so forth, urged with no greater power than mere strength of lungs. the commotions on the continent last year laid much stress on, and the turmoils in catholique and quiet in protestant states contrasted, as though there had been no disturbance or trouble in prussia or denmark, or any tumult or revolution in belgium or portugal. i did note two chief speakers, whom, on their rising, the assembly did applaud as if they had been actors, and to be sure, they ranted more frantically than i did ever see hicks. yet at times they stooped to drollery in the height of their passion, and one of them did make such sport of the roman catholique religion as would not have been suffered in the adelphi theatre. but i do find that some who would not be seen in a play-house can enjoy their laugh at exeter hall. this orator was a clergyman of some kind, for he was called reverend in the hand-bill, and dressed in a clerical habit, but his eyes and face blazing with wrath, did storm like a madman against the maynooth grant and the pope of rome; and howled as fierce as a hyæna. the other a clergyman too, and looked as much like one, with his sneering angry visage, and did vehemently harangue, crying bitterly out on some of my lords and the members of the commons' house that had voted for popish endowment. his oration a medley of sarcasm, invective, and buffoonery, and wound up with a flourish of patriotism and loyalty. the speeches received with applause and laughter, but also with interruptions and crying to turn somebody out. the speakers on a platform, whereon they bounced backwards and forwards, having rails in front as if to hinder them from breaking loose on the audience. behind them a crowd of dainty smooth gentlemen in black, with white neckerchiefs, and to see how demure they looked, as if butter would not melt in their mouths! in the body of the hall a goodly number of heads, but by far the most of them in bonnets. the two chief speeches lasted an hour and a half each, and the chairman leaving his seat, i away, my head aching through the raving. such violence, methinks, do only prove that there are other bigots besides papists; and is the worst means of enforcing any truth; for they that speak in anger and passion are commonly concluded by indifferent people to be in the wrong. the society complaining of want of funds, which i do not wonder at, for i fear me the subscribers have but few catholiques converted for their money. [illustration: _ye exhybityon at ye royal academye._ monday, _may 21, 1849_.] this morning with my wife to the exhibition of the royal academy, where 611 paintings, besides miniatures and other drawings, and pieces of sculpture, making altogether 1341 works of art, and methought it would be strange if there were not some masterpiece among so many. the whole to be seen for the small sum of 1s., and the catalogue cost me 1s. more, but should have known all the old hands as well without it. to see how easy it is to distinguish them by their styles after two or three years' experience: as one by his dogs, that might be expected to bark, or to talk rather, with their looks and ways like human creatures. then another by his colouring that do resemble a mash of sweet omelet with all the colours of the rainbow and many more; which methinks is a strange fancy; but now he hath a picture out of his trite fashion; done after the manner of the antique masters, and a good imitation. a third also by his unadorned beauties with their glowing eyes and cheeks and plump swarthy flesh, and a fourth by his never-ending perspectives, and gulfs of darkness, and mountains of blue. but this year i do mark fewer of these old acquaintances, and more of the works of younger men, wherein there is less of knack and more of freshness, which i do esteem a hopeful sign. the exhibition at large i judge to be a very excellent middling one, many pictures good in their kind, but that kind in very few cases high. the silks and satins mostly painted to admiration, and the figures copied carefully from the model; but this do appear too plainly; and the action generally too much like a scene in a play. in the historical pictures the characters dressed strictly in the fashion of their time, but in the best of them a lack of fancy and imagination, though seeming original through a certain quaintness that do smack of church-window saints and illuminated missals. the landscapes better, and a most brave morning on the lake of zurich by one that hath the right stuff in him, and some sweet melancholy shades and solemn groves, and a solitary pool that did please me mightily, and my wife do say that the artist should be commissioner of woods and forests. some pictures of common life pretty enough, and a little crowd before a pleasant sentimental one called the duet. one or two droll ones, as the slide, and drawing for the militia, did make me laugh; but to think how many woodcuts as good as the best you can get in a little miscellany published weekly, cost you 3d. fewer silly portraits of gentlemen and ladies than formerly, which is a comfort. the pictures fairly enough hung, and strange to see a dead lion between monsieur guizot and prince metternich, as though to represent absolute monarchy, and seemed meant for a joke. some pictures in the octagon room, which could not tell whether they were good or no for want of light, and the same with all the sculptures in their lumber hole. this is how we treat art in this country, and with paintings presented to the nation buried in a vault, but sorry encouragement is given to genius; and no wonder that artists do pictures for furniture to sell to the great and small vulgar, and so produce the kind of works that make up the greater part of the exhibition. [illustration: _a view of epsom downes on ye derbye daye._ wednesday, _may 23, 1849_.--derby day.] to epsom downs to the great derby race. in a barouche, with a party, over vauxhall bridge, and by clapham, carrying hampers with store of every thing needful for a brave lunch. the windows and house fronts crowded, and school-boys mounted on walls and gates, and they and the urchins in the street shouting, as though we were going to the races for their amusement. but lack! to see the pretty smart damsels come out to gaze at us, or peeping behind blinds and curtains, all in high glee, and good humour do wonderfully heighten beauty, as i do tell my wife. the road through trees and orchards, and the sun shining through the young leaves and on the horse-chestnut blossoms, and the flowers looking bright like the lasses. so we on, till into the ruck, which is the jam of carriages caused by the stoppage at the turnpike: and did banter each other and them about us. across the course to the hill, the admission cost us £1. good lack! what a crowd of people collected to see which out of six-and-twenty horses should run the fastest, and what a medley of vans, omnibusses, and taxed carts on either side of the course with the people in front of them, and the grand stand crowded with heads, plenty as blackberries, and seeming like a huge mass of them. a throng of carriages about us, whereon young handsome rakish-looking gallants with mustaches and cigars. here and there, in open coaches, ladies in lilac and blue dresses, and pink bonnets, and gay ribbons, all manner of colours, looking, with the parti-coloured flags over the booths, mighty lively. presently a bell rung and the course cleared, but then to see an unlucky dog running to get out, and the mob yelling at him, and the poor dog in his fright rushing straight on like mad! then the horses with the motley jockies on them prancing up and down before the grand stand, to show their paces to the folks in the betting ring. at last, they taken to the post, and so started with much cheering, and came easy round tattenham corner; but presently away in good earnest, like shot! the chief struggle between the _flying dutchman_ and _hotspur_, but yellow-cap did win by half a length. the winner declared by his number, hung out in front of the grand stand, and to see the flock of carrier pigeons sent up to bear away the news; but mr. wagstaffe do say they were nothing to the pigeons left behind. the race run in three minutes, but to think of the money lost and won in that little time! my lord eglinton and the public, as i hear, do gain much, and the ring and rogues do lose, which i am glad of. after the race to a brave lunch; but the gipsy women and children did come and beg morsels out of our plates, which in the midst of all the luxury was a sorry sight. then about the course to see the company and the flinging at snuff-boxes, and the thimble-rig, and some playing at roulette and hazard, but the police did seize and break several of the tables, and take away the stakes. great sport returning home, with the shouting for the winner, and trumpeting on horns, and tossing of snuff-boxes and toys to the pretty lasses at the windows. [illustration: _a prospect of greenwich fair._ tuesday, _may 29, 1849_.--whit-tuesday.] down the river with browne to greenwich to view the fair. to the park, where young fellows and hoydens at archery, donkey riding, playing at kiss-in-the-ring, and running down the hill, romping, tripping, and tumbling over head and heels, with shouting, screaming, and laughter. then down to the fair, made in a narrow space in the town by a couple of rows of booths and sweet-meat and toy-stalls, with raree shows at the farther end, and swings and roundabouts on the outside. the passage most insufferably crammed; and we having to force our way between walls hung with dolls and gilt ginger-bread. the stalls and booths crowded also, and the tobacco smoke rising from the drinking places like a fog. young prentice blades and shop-boys pushing about with large masquerade noses, and did entertain themselves more than me. but the chief amusement of these roysterers and the frolicksome wenches do seem to be scratching people behind, with a scraper, which is a notched disk of wood, that turns on an axle in a mortise, with a handle some six inches long, and being dragged down a man's back, do make him believe that his coat is torn, as i thought mine was, when first served so, which did trouble me. with this noise of continual tearing, and the squeaking of tin trumpets, and blowing of whistles, and half-a-dozen different bands playing as many tunes, is altogether made a most discordant musique; and the showmen bellowing to the spectators to walk up, do increase the babel. strange to see the lads and lasses, heaved up and down, over and under, in the swings, and to think what pleasure they can take in such a motion, which methinks a physician might prescribe in lieu of a sea voyage. with much ado, to richardson's show, where a tragedy, a comic song and a pantomime all in half an hour, and the tragedy accompanied on whistles and penny trumpets by the audience. but the best of the fun outside, between the performances, with the beef-eaters' band playing, and the show-girls in their spangles and paint, dancing, and the clowns grimacing and flinging summersets, and the robber chief standing in a brave posture in the corner. store of fat ladies, wonderful pigs, giants and dwarfs to see, and conjurors in plenty, specially in the crowd, conjuring handkerchiefs out of pockets. in the evening to the great dancing-booth, which lighted up and hung with variegated lamps, was, to be sure, a pretty fine sight. but the company uproarious through drink; and yet the dancing without liveliness, being mostly that rogueish chin-and-shoulder french dance, gone heavily through. here again that perpetual scraping, and they who sold the scrapers, did cry, "all the fun of the fair for 2d."; which was true. home by the railway train, wherein the tipsy passengers bawling and singing the whole of the way. methinks these fairs do cause a concourse of rogues and bad characters; and the more good cheap concerts abound, and museums and exhibitions are opened to the public, the less will the people frequent such places as greenwich fair. [illustration: _kensyngton gardens with ye bande playinge there._ friday, _june 1, 1849_.] in the afternoon to kensington gardens, where a band of the guards do play on this day, and also on monday throughout the season, and draw together a great crowd of fashionable folks. the tunes played mostly polkas and waltzes, though now and then a piece of musique of a better sort; but the musique little more than an excuse for a number of people assembling to see and be seen. there all the world and his wife; and she in all her finery. the day very fair, and the sun shining gloriously, and the bright coloured silks and muslins at a distance between the trees, did make a mighty pleasant picture. but i got as near as i could to gaze upon the beauties, and am afraid that i did look too hard at some; but they mostly smiled, and methinks they do not trick themselves out so bravely to discourage observation. to see them pacing to and fro in such smart attire, with their shewy pink, and green, and forget-me-not blue parasols, i could fancy they were the london fashions for june come out a walking. but many on seats with tall well-looking gallants posted beside them, or bending down to converse with them with vast attention and politeness, whereat they seeming mightily pleased. others standing in groups here and there under the shade, and a great throng of them round about the musicians; but all walking to and fro between the tunes to show themselves. many of the army among the crowd, and strange, to compare them and others of our gentry, in air and manner, with one or two dingy foreigners with their stubbly beards and ill-favoured looks. the little fashionable children by the side of their mammas elegant enough to see; but overdressed in their velvet and plaid tunics and plumes of feathers, and their ways too mincing and dainty, and looking as though they had stepped from out a band-box. methinks they do seem brought up to think too much of their outsides, and to look on display and show as the business of their lives, which is a silly schooling. i did mark some of their mothers, old enough to know better, bedizened like the young beauties, but looking sour and glum, and plainly ill at ease in their pride and vanity. but it divert me much to compare the delicate children with some charity-school urchins on the other side of the wall that did anger the park keeper by mocking him. i doubt me that the young leatherbreeches be not the happier as long as they can get a bellyful of victuals. the company doubtless enjoying themselves after their fashion, but in general looking marvellous grave; and strange to shut my eyes between the tunes and to hear nothing but the rustling of dresses and a murmur of voices as they did walk up and down. it is wonderful how we english do go through our amusements after the manner of a solemn ceremony. yet do the people of fashion in kensington gardens make an exceeding rare show; and i do only wish that there were no reverse of the picture to be seen among us. but their finery do afford employment to work-people, and i do thank them for parading themselves for my amusement, and the officers of the guards for treating the town to musique, and so giving occasion to such a fine spectacle. [illustration: _hyghest court of law in ye kyngdom. ye lords hearyng appeals._ thursday, _june 7, 1849_.] up, and to the house of lords, where a committee of privileges touching a disputed peerage, but i did only go for a sight of the inside of the house, well worth seeing; and the carving, and gilding, and blazoning, a rich feast to the eye. there present none but my lord brougham and my lord campbell, and three or four other lords, but a smaller muster do often serve for a court of appeal; for their lordships do trust all their law business to the law-lords' hands. counsel speaking at the bar of the house, and the clerks of the house before them at the table, all in their wigs very stately, but my lords lolling on the benches, free and easy, they only having the right to make themselves at home, yet droll to see the officers of the house forced to stand, but some of them leaning against the stems of the gilt candlesticks, fast asleep on their legs. did think i should go to sleep too, if i stayed much longer, and about to depart; but glad i did not; for presently the counsel made an end, and then my lord brougham examining a witness was almost the best sport that i ever had in my life. the witness, one of the attornies for the claimant of the title, and lord brougham suspecting some trickery in the case, and good lack! how he did bait and ferret him to draw it out, asking the most peremptory questions, and sometimes a second before the first could be answered, firking with impatience like one smarting with stinging nettles: which was great mirth. it did well-nigh cause me to laugh outright, and commit a breach of privilege, to hear him in a fume, echo the witness's answers, and cry eh? what! how! why? and wherefore? and demand how he could do this, or came not to do the other, and how was that, and so forth, and then set his memory right, next made a short speech, then give a little evidence of his own, and again go back to the examination. it seemed that the pretender to the peerage had been helped with money to maintain his suit by certain persons, and my lord did strive to worm out of the lawyer their end therein: but to no purpose; for he had met with his match; so forced to content himself with a quip on the chances of the witness's client. then another witness examined; a chirurgeon, whom lord brougham did make merry with for his jolly good-natured looks, and did jest upon concerning his vocation: and the other did bandy jokes with my lord, and gave him as good as he brought. methinks such bantering is strange of a peer, and one that hath been lord chancellor and used to sit on the woolsack, or anywhere else but the box of an omnibus. but strange, how sober a speech in summing up the evidence my lord did make after all; and no doubt he can be reasonable and quiet when he pleases. save a few words from lord campbell, not a syllable spoke but my lord brougham; wherefore methinks he must have been thoroughly happy, having had nigh all the talk to himself. but the highest court of law in the realm numbering so few, put me much in mind of the army in _bombastes furioso_. [illustration: _the flower showe at chysyk gardens._ saturday, _june 9, 1849_.] my wife holding me to my promise to take her to the chiswick flower show, and i could not break it; for certainly the poor wretch do drudge in the house like a slave; and so often as i go out for pleasure myself, methinks it were well to give her a treat now and then, to ease my conscience, and keep her quiet also. so took her, though our two tickets together came to 10s., and we thither in an omnibus, and the fare doubled on the occasion, instead of 1s. cost me 2s. more, which made me mad. a rare sight, nigh the gardens, to look out on the line of carriages behind us, and methought how mean and paltry it seemed to be riding in an omnibus; and was in some trouble lest any of our acquaintance should be in the carriages, and see us 'light. at the passage to the gardens beset by fellows with shoe-brushes and clothes-brushes, importunate to brush my coat and boots, that were clean enough, but only to earn 4d. or 6d. our tickets delivered, and we into the grounds with a stream of company, and followed them and our ears to a band of musique, the horse guards playing hard by a grove of rhododendrons in full bloom, and a mob of beauties round about them more blooming still. heard a medley-piece of scraps of most of the operas that i knew; which was better musique than i expected. then to the tents, where the prize-flowers are shown, on high stands as long as a moderate-sized barn: and there a pretty display of orchids, azaleas, cactuses, pelargoniums, and heaths, very rare and curious, and a few choice roses; but i expected to see roses as big as cabbages. many of the flowers finely variegated, and giving forth a perfume sweeter than atkinson his shop. strange how to some of the pelargoniums were given the names of grisi, alboni, mario, and other opera singers: and mr. wagstaffe do say it is musique in a flower-pot. after seeing the flowers, to stroll about the walks and among the trees, and view the flowers without stalks, which i do admire most of all, and a brave show they were, drest out in their gayest, and smiling as if resolved to look as pretty as they could; and looking all the brighter for the sun shining without a cloud to be seen: whereby out of pain for my wife's pink bonnet, which, if spoiled by the rain usual at this show, had been £2, 2s. gone. the bands from time to time beat a march about the garden; when to see the fine ladies and gentlemen follow at the soldiers' heels, natural as ragged street-children! at last all played together, and ended with _god save the queen_; when the flowers wheeled away. but the company remaining, some sitting on benches to make a lane, and the rest of the multitude walking up and down to be seen, and the beauties showing off their graces, which i did inspect from head to foot. my wife beginning to admire a certain satin; so knowing what this signified, away, and home to a leg of mutton; thinking of the state of the nation, which should not be so mighty gloomy to judge of it by chiswick flower show, and wondering how much all the finery there cost, and where all the money could have come from. [illustration: _"socyetye" enjoyinge itselfe at a soyrée._ friday, _june 15, 1849_.] after a dinner off bubble and squeak, my wife and i to my lord wilkinson's at home, by invitation; though heaven knows if ever i set eyes on his lordship in my life or he on me; but do ascribe this honour to having my name put down in the _court guide_, and am glad to find the consequence and importance i have got thereby. i in my new suit of black and silk neckerchief, with a fringe at the ends, and my wife did wear her lace dress over her pink satin slip, which was very handsome. gave our card to a lackey in yellow and crimson livery, with a huge shoulder-knot, who did shout out our name, which, passing along a row of his fellows lining the stairs, was by the time it reached the drawing-room changed to pippins--but no matter; and so we were presented to my lord and my lady. so on in the crowd; for my lord's drawing-room as thronged as the opera pit entrance on a thursday night. methought surely there was something worth seeing and hearing; but saw nothing extraordinary beyond the multitude of company, and divers writers, painters, and other persons of note, elbowing their way through the press; nor heard anything but puffing and gasping, and complaining of the terrible heat. several ladies fainting; and my wife declaring she feared she should faint too, which made me mad; for it is always the way with women at spectacles and assemblies, and yet they needs must and will go to them. at some distance before us, a bustle and stir, and in the midst of it a lackey with a tray, whereon were ices--the people struggling for them; and i also strove to get one for my wife; but the attempt vain, and we borne clear away by the current to the other side of the room. some young beauties there, whom to have looked upon at my ease, and they at theirs, would have been a great delight; but they in such discomfort, that it quite spoilt their prettiness, which was pitiful. we met dr. dabbes the great chemist, with whom some pretty discourse concerning the air of crowded rooms, which he said do contain a gas called carbonic acid, and is poisonous, and we were now breathing too much per cent. of it, which did trouble me. to think what delight fashionable folks can take in crowding together, to the danger of health, a set of people, for the most part, strangers both to them and to one another! away early; for we could endure the stifling no longer: and good lack, what a relief to get into the open air! my white kid gloves soiled, cost me 3s. 6d.; but am thankful i carried with me my spring hat, which do shut up; and did chuckle to see how many others got their hats crushed. home in a cab, and on the way bought a lobster, whereunto my wife would have me add a bottle of stout, which did think a good notion; cost me together 3s. 6d., and the cab 2s. 6d. more, and then to supper; mighty proud that i had been invited by my lord, though utterly tired with his party, and so with great satisfaction, but much weariness, to bed. [illustration: _a view of mr. lorde hys cryket grounde._ monday, _june 18, 1849_.] this day a great cricket match, surrey against england, at lord's, and i thither, all the way to st. john's wood, to see the place, having often heard talk of it, and the playing, which mr. longstoppe did tell me was a pretty sight. paid 6d. to be let in, and 2d. for a card of the innings, and bought a little book of the laws of the game, cost me 1s. 6d. more, though when i had got it, could hardly understand a word of it; but to think how much money i spend out of curiosity, and how inquisitive i am, so as to be vexed to the heart if i cannot thoroughly make out every thing i see! the cricketing i believe very fine; but could not judge of it; for i think i did never before see any cricket since i was a little varlet boy at school. but what a difference between the manner of bowling in those days, and that players now use! for then they did moderately trundle the ball under-hand; but now they fling it over-handed from the elbow, as though viciously, and it flies like a shot, being at least five ounces and a half in weight, and hard as a block. i saw it strike one of the batmen on the knuckles, who danced and shook his fist, as methought well he might. but to see how handy some did catch it, though knocked off the bat by a strong man with all his force; albeit now and then they missing it, and struck by it on the head, or in the mouth, and how any one can learn to play cricket without losing his front teeth is a wonder. the spectators sitting on benches in a circle, at a distance, and out of the way of the ball, which was wise; but some on a raised stand, and others aside at tables, under a row of trees near a tavern within the grounds, with pipes and beer; and many in the circle also smoking and drinking, and the drawers continually going the round of them to serve them liquor and tobacco. but all as quiet as a quaker's meeting, except when a good hit made, or a player bowled out, and strange to see how grave and solemn they looked, as if the sight of men in white clothes, knocking a ball about, were something serious to think on. did hear that many had wagers on the game, but doubt it, for methinks there had been more liveliness if much betting, and chance of winning or losing money. the company very numerous, and among them some in carriages, and was glad to see so many people diverted, although at what i could not tell. but they enjoyed themselves in their way, whatever that was, and i in mine, thinking how droll they looked, so earnestly attending to a mere show of dexterity. i, for my part, soon out of patience with the length of the innings, and the stopping and interruption after each run, and so away, more tired, i am sure, than any of the cricketers. yet i do take pride, as an englishman, in our country sport of cricket, albeit i do not care to watch it playing; and certainly it is a manly game, throwing open the chest, and strengthening the limbs, and the player so often in danger of being hit by the ball. [illustration: _a raylwaye meetynge. emotyon of ye shareholderes at ye announcemente of a dividende of 2-1/2d._ monday, _july 2, 1849_.] comes mr. stagge to take me to the great railway meeting at a london tavern; and we up the back stairs to the platform among the directors, and glad of so good a place; but fearing to be taken for one of my company, did get behind a fat man to hide myself. the shareholders below met to hear their affairs debated, and what a collection of wry and doleful faces! methought the poor anxious parsons and eager half-pay officers among them was a pitiful sight. looked hard about for the railway king, but mr. stagge did say in my ear he was not likely to show his face. the secretary reading bills to be brought into the parliament to join other railways with this, and all the while interrupted by the shareholders with noise and outcries; but at last got through. then the chairman did propose that the bills be approved of; but an amendment moved with much clapping of hands that the meeting do adjourn for one month to examine the company's accounts; which they do say have been cooked. upon this a long speech from a director, denying that it was so, and one made answer to him in a bouncing, ranting harangue; but to hear how the shareholders did shout and cheer whenever he accused the board of a piece of roguery! he complained that proxy papers had been sent out by some for votes, whereby to gain their own ends, at £900 expense to the company; whereat more uproar, in the midst whereof he moved another amendment; when the noise greater than ever, with groans and calling for dividends; and several in the meeting strove to speak, but could only wag their jaws and shake their fists at the chairman, and he imploring quiet in dumb show. howbeit, one old gentleman got attention for a moment, and in great wrath and choler did declare that the directors' statement was all humbug. then another, with much ado to get a hearing, did move a third amendment: and after that, more wrangling and jangling, until the only man of any brains i had yet heard, up and showed the folly of moving amendment on amendment. so the first and last amendment withdrawn, and the second put to the vote, and lost, and then the chairman's resolution put and lost also, and the shareholders hooting and hissing, and shouting "shame!" and crying that they could not understand the question. so the amendment and former resolution both put over again, and both again lost; whereupon the shareholders stark mad, and rushed in a mob on the platform, raving at the chairman, who jumped up in his chair, throwing his arms abroad, and shrieking for silence; till at last a poll determined on to decide whether for adjournment or not; and so the meeting brought to an end in as great a hurly-burly as i ever heard; and a pretty chairman methinks they have to keep order, and brave directors to cook their accounts, and their meetings do seem as confused as their affairs; and thank my stars, i have not sunk my money in a railway. [illustration: _a prospect of ye thames its regatta._ tuesday, _july 10, 1849_.] sent my vest to the tailor's to be let out in the back, and my wife and every body say i grow too stout, which do put me in mighty pain lest i should lose my shape; wherefore i have resolved to take a long walk daily, for exercise, to bring down my fat. so begin this day, and set out to walk to barn-elms, by the way of hammersmith, on a brave melting afternoon. i did muse at the carriages and omnibuses that passed me, crowded both inside and on the roof, and the people upon them whooping and blowing horns, as the british public always do when they ride to see any sport. at hammersmith found what all this meant, everyone there hastening to the river, this being the first day of the thames regatta, and the suspension-bridge thronged, and festoons of spectators on the chains. did go upon the bridge, cost me 1/2d. toll, but would not have missed the sight for 6d. or 1s.; for the thames with boats scattered all over it, their flags fluttering, and their crews shouting and laughing full of fun and glee, made a lively picture; and also i was just in the nick of time to see a race; four boats of as many oars darting under the bridge at full speed, while the beholders cheered and halloaed with all their might, and a bell rung, and a band of musique upon the bridge pier did play "love not." good lack! how wrapped up the people did seem to be in the race, and did now cry for blue to go it; and then red, and then pink, and at last that red had it, meaning the colours of the rowers, which indeed looked very smart and spruce. over the bridge, and, instead of to barnes, down the river, along the towing path, which was also thronged with folks running to and fro, all eagerness and bustle. so to putney, and there the multitude greatest both on the bridge and the shore, and finch his ground to the water-side quite a fair, with fat ladies and learned pigs and gilt gingerbread; and his tavern beset by customers for ale, and mighty good ale it is. here more boat-racing, with firing of cannon, jollity, shouting, jangling of street pianos, and everywhere tobacco-smoke and the popping of ginger-beer. some fouling of barges, but no worse mishap, though i expected every moment that somebody would be ducked. methought how neat and dainty the light wherries and wager-boats did look among the other craft; but loth i should be to trust my carcase in a cockle-shell, that sitting an inch too much on one side would overthrow. mighty pleasant also to behold on the water the little parties of beauties, rowed by their sweethearts, under awnings to shade them from the sun, and the ripple on the water, and the smiles on their faces, and to hear their giggling, which was a pretty noise. afloat everywhere in their boating-trim i did note sundry of those young sparks that do and think and talk of nothing but pulling up the river, and live upon it almost, like swans or geese. but, however, that boat-racing is a true british pastime, and so long as we pull together he will back us against all the world. "and talking of that," says he, "the sport being ended, suppose we take a pull at some of finch his ale." [illustration: _a raylway statyon. showynge ye travellers refreshynge themselves._ tuesday, _july 31, 1849_.] prevailed upon by my wife to carry her to bath, as she said, to go see her aunt dorothy, but i know she looked more to the pleasure of her trip than any thing else; nevertheless i do think it necessary policy to keep in with her aunt, who is an old maid and hath a pretty fortune; and to see what court and attention i pay her though i do not care 2d. about her! but am mightily troubled to know whether she hath sunk her money in an annuity, which makes me somewhat uneasy at the charge of our journey, for what with fare, cab-hire, and vails to dorothy's servants for their good word, it did cost me altogether £6, 2s. 6d. to the great western station in a cab, by reason of our luggage; for my wife must needs take so many trunks and bandboxes, as is always the way with women: or else we might have gone there for 2s. 6d. less in an omnibus. did take our places in the first class notwithstanding the expense, preferring both the seats and the company; and also because if any necks or limbs are broken i note it is generally in the second and third classes. so we settled, and the carriage-doors slammed to, and the bell rung, the train with a whistle off like a shot, and in the carriage with me and my wife a mighty pretty lady, a frenchwoman, and i did begin to talk french with her, which my wife do not well understand, and by and by did find the air too much for her where she was sitting, and would come and take her seat between us; i know, on purpose. so fell a reading the _times_, till one got in at hanwell who seemed to be a physician, and mighty pretty discourse with him touching the manner of treating madmen and lunatics, which is now by gentle management, and is a great improvement on the old plan of chains and the whip. also of the foulness of london for want of fit drainage, and how it do breed cholera and typhus, as sure as rotten cheese do mites, and of the horrid folly of making a great gutter of the river. so to swindon station, where the train do stop ten minutes for refreshment, and there my wife hungry, and i too with a good appetite, notwithstanding the discourse about london filth. so we out, and to the refreshment-room with a crowd of passengers, all pushing and jostling, and trampling on each other's toes, striving which should get served first. with much ado got a basin of soup for my wife, and for myself a veal and ham pie, and to see me looking at my watch, and taking a mouthful by turns; and how i did gulp a glass of guinness his stout! before we had half finished, the guard rang the bell, and my wife with a start did spill her soup over her dress, and was obliged to leave half of it; and to think how ridiculous i looked, scampering back to the train with my meat-pie in my mouth! to run hurry-skurry at the sound of the bell, do seem only fit for a gang of workmen; and the bustle of railways do destroy all the dignity of travelling; but the world altogether is less grand, and do go faster than formerly. off again, and to the end of our journey, troubled at the soup on my wife's dress, but thankful i had got my change, and not left it behind me at the swindon station. [illustration: _ye brytysh granadiers amountynge guard at st. james hys palace yarde._ wednesday, _august 1, 1849_.] up mighty betimes, and after a four miles' walk, losing weight like a jockey, to the palace yard of st. james's palace, to see the soldiers mount guard to guard the queen, which they do every morning whether she is there or no, and is a pretty pompous ceremony. found myself among as dirty shabby a set of fellows hanging about as i think i ever saw, with whom two or three with the look of gentlemen, and a pretty sprinkling of milliner-girls and nurse-maids. strange how all women almost do run after soldiers; which mr. pumpkyns do say is because weakness do, by instinct, seek the protection of courage; but i think is owing to nothing at all but the bravery of a red coat. in a few minutes more riff-raff pouring in; then a noise without of drumming: and then just at 1/4 to 11, a party of the grenadier guards marching in under the clock-tower, the drums and fifes in front of them, and, at the head of all, the drum major, twirling his staff, strutted like a pouter-pigeon, as stately, almost, as ever i saw j. bland. the men at the word of command ground arms with a clang, and stood at ease in lines, and together with the spectators made a square, with the drums and fifes at one end, and the band at the other by the clock-tower, and a post in the middle, and around the post, with the colours, the officers in full figg, mighty trim; and mr. wagstaffe do tell me that the guards have brave clothing colonels. the band did play while the men that should relieve guard were marching off; and i do muse why soldiers are provided with so much musique, and conclude it is to hinder them from thinking, and also in battle to inflame their minds without making them drunk. at five minutes to the hour comes the relieved guard, and draws up ready to be marched away, and to see them backing for room on the crowd's toes! droll, also, to watch the marshalman, in his grand uniform and with his staff of office, going about to make space and keep order among the ragged boys; and i remember how, in my youth, i thought he was a general officer. more musique, in the meanwhile, by the band; the band-master, a rare plump fellow, in goodly condition, conducting, with a clarionet for his batoon. suddenly the musique cut short by the drums and fifes, the word given, and the men did fall in, and away to barracks, a grand march playing, and all the tag-rag at their heels. but to see the lieutenant, the officer of the day, set up the colours on the post, and touch his cap and kiss his sword to them, saluting them, which do seem a senseless pantomime. besides, the flag, a most old and sorry one, blown into tatters, which, in our long peace, must have been done by the breeze and not the battle; but so left, with a grenadier to guard it, sticking in the post. then the officer did dismiss the off guard, and away to his quarters for the day. methinks that mounting guard at the palace is a service of little danger or hardship; but, good lack! to think what fire-eaters in battle are the dandy officers of the guards, and how their men will follow them through thick and thin, and what work those fellows can do when called on, that play soldiers about st. james's! [illustration: _a prospect of a fashyonable haberdasher hys shope._ tuesday, _august 7, 1849_.] finding fault with my wife, for that she do not use enough exercise; whence her continual headach, and faddell, the 'potticary his bill of £5. she replying that i would never take her out, i said i would, whenever she liked; whereupon, we agreed to go a walk forthwith, and my wife did propose regent street. so we thither, pleasing ourselves with observing the passers-by and the carriages, and the streets blazing with fine ladies and flaming liveries. going by lindsey and woolsey's, my wife's eye taken with a scarf in the window, and would stop to look at it with a crowd of other women gazing at the finery, which mr. skitt do call baits, and a draper's shop a lady-trap. presently she recollected that she wanted a collar; so we into the shop, where some sixty or eighty ladies sitting before the counters, examining the wares, busy as blue-bottle flies at a sugar-cask. behind the counters the shopmen and assistants, showing off the goods, and themselves also, with mighty dainty airs, every one of them, almost, narcissus his image. one of these dapper young sirs did help my wife to her collar, cost 3s. 6d.; when she thought she had better get another while about it, cost 3s. 6d. more. then, says he, in his soft condoling voice, "what is the next article?" hereupon, my wife bethought her of lacking some lace cuffs, four pair: cost 12s. "and now, mem," says the young fellow with a simper, "allow me to show you a love of a robe, a barège, double glacé, brocaded in the flouncings, and reduced to twenty-one-and-six from forty-five." but she professed that she needed it not: whereat i was glad; when he did tell her he would do it at one-and-four less: and she then saying that it was indeed a bargain, which i find is a woman's word for anything cheap whether wanted or no, i let her have it: cost £1, 0s. 2d. but, to be sure, the pattern was pretty, and my wife being well-dressed do please my taste, and also increase my consequence and dignity. the robe bought, it comes into her head that she could not do without a new shawl to match it, blue and scarlet, cost £2, 2s., but will look mighty fine, and, i hope, last. here i thought to hale her at once by force away; but seeing a stout middle-aged gentleman doing the very thing, and how mean it looked, did forbear; and in the meanwhile the shopman did beg, as he said, to tempt her with a superior assortment of ribbons. she rummaging over this frippery, i to gaze about the shop, and with fellow-feeling did mark an unhappy small boy, while his mother was comparing some three-score different pieces of satin, perched on a stool, out of patience. my wife would have 5s. worth of ribbons, and here i hoped would make an end; but the shopman did exhibit to her some silk stockings; and i telling her they were unnecessary, she declared that then she must wear boots, which she knows i hate; and concluded with buying half a dozen pair, cost 24s.; and we away, bowed out of the shop with congees by the smirking shopwalker, rubbing his hands and grinning, as obsequious as could be; and so home; i mighty serious, having laid out £5, 10s. 2d.; and the next time i take out my wife for a walk, it shall be in the fields and not in regent street. [illustration: _regente strete at four of ye clocke, p.m._ thursday, _august 16, 1849_.] this afternoon about four of the clock to regent street, and did walk up and down, among the fine folk mostly, many foreigners, and a few street urchins, and others of the lower sort, and note the carriages stand in front of the shops, and the walking advertisement boys and men, and the cabs and omnibuses go by, and the advertising vans, and mighty fine and droll the monster advertising car of moses and son the tailors. in the evening to the queen's house in the haymarket, to hear mozart his famous opera "_le nozze di figaro_" and sontag in _susanna_, which she do act mighty skittish, and with the prettiest sidelong looks, but the most graceful and like a lady, and do trip the stage the daintiest and make the nicest curtsies, and sing the sweetest that methinks i ever did hear or see: and to think that mr. vieuxboys should tell me she do it as well now as he did see her twenty years ago! pretty, to hear her sing "_venite inginocchiatevi_," where she do make _cherubino_ kneel down on the cushion before the _countess_, and put him on a girl's cap, and pat his chin and face. also her singing of "_sull' aria_" with parodi, the _countess_, and the mingling of their voices very musicall. likewise that jolly blooming she-bacchus-alboni, _cherubino_, with her passionate fine singing of "_non so più_" and "_voi che sapete_," did delight me much; and she did play a stripling of a page in love to the very life. belletti did mightily take me with his knaveries, in _figaro_, and singing of "_non più andrai_," which is a most lively and martial song; and the grand march very brave as well, and did make my heart leap, and me almost jump out of my seat. colletti, too, the _count_, did content me much, and to the utmost with "_crudel! perchè finora_." but then to hear lablache, what a great thing he do make out of so small a part as _bartolo_, with his voice in the concert-pieces heard above all the rest, and thundering out "_la vendetta_," like a musicall stentor; and his undertaking of little characters to make an opera perfect is very magnanimous; and mr. wagstaffe do well say that he "_ingentes animos ingenti in pectore versat_," and have as much brains as body. mighty droll to hear the quartett, with each singer in turn holding the voice on the word "_io_," called for three times, and the singers each time spinning "_io_" out longer, whereat great laughter; and the performers laughing as much as the audience. wonderfull how still all the house was while sontag was a singing of "_deh! vieni non tardar_," and the _bravas_ and clapping of hands when she had ended; and to hear how she did stick to the text, and not, like a vulgar silly _prima donna_, disfigure noble musique by ridiculous flourishes. home to supper, it being late, though, walking up the haymarket, did sorely long for stewed oysters. telling my wife of the opera, did speak of _susanna_ boxing _figaro_ his ears, and let out that i could have been glad to have her box mine too, which my wife did say she could do as well if i pleased; but i said i had rather not, and so, whistling "_non più andrai_," rather small to bed. [illustration: _blackwall. showynge ye publick a dinynge on whytebait._ saturday, _august 18, 1849_.] comes mr. gollope, this being his birth-day, to bid me to go dine with him and a company of some half-dozen of our acquaintance, off whitebait at blackwall. so we first to london bridge, on foot, walking for an appetite, and there took water, and down the river in a steam-boat, with great pleasure, enjoying the breeze, and the view of the shipping, and also the prospect of a good dinner. landed at the pier, and as fast as we could to lovegrove's, where our table engaged in the large room. but good lack! to see the fulness of the place, every table almost crowded with eager eaters, the heaps of whitebait among them, and they with open mouths and eyes shovelling spoonful after spoonful into their plates and thence thrusting them five or six at a time into their chaps. then, here and there, a fat fellow, stopping, out of breath, to put down his knife and fork, and gulp a goblet of iced punch, was mighty droll; also to hear others speaking with their mouths full. but dinner coming, i cared not to look about me, there being on table some dozen different dishes of fish, whereof the sight did at first bewilder me, like the donkey between the haystacks, not knowing which to choose; and mr. goblestone do lament that at a feast with plenty of good things he never was able to eat his fill of every one. a dish of salmon with india-pickle did please me mightily, also some eels, spitchcocked, and a stewed carp, and ate heartily of them with much relish; but did only nibble at the rest by way of a taste, for i felt exceeding full, and methought i should have no stomach for the whitebait. but lack! to see when it came, how my appetite returned, and i did fall to upon it, and drink iced punch, and then at the whitebait again. pretty, the little slices of brown bread and butter, they did bring us to eat it withal, and truly, with a squeeze of lemon and cayenne pepper, it is delicate eating. after the whitebait plain, whitebait devilled made us to eat the more, and drink too, which we did in champagne and hock, pledging each other with great mirth. after the fish comes a course of ducks, and a haunch of mutton, and divers made dishes; and then tarts and custards and grouse; and lastly, a dessert, and i did partake of all, as much as i had a mind to, and after dinner drank port and claret, when much joking and rare stories, and very merry we were. pretty to look out of window as we sat, at the craft and the white sails in the sunset on the river. back in a railway carriage, shouting and singing, and in a cab home, where dr. sharpe called to see my wife for her vapours. pretty discourse with him touching the epidemic, he telling me that of all things to bring it on the likeliest was excess in food and drink, which did trouble me, and so with a draught of soda and a dose of pills to bed. [illustration: _ye sport of punte fyshynge off rychmonde._ wednesday, _august 22, 1849_.] this day to richmond, to go a fishing on the river, and with me mr. itchenbrooke, out of hampshire, a cunning angler, who did mightily desire to see what this sport should be. so first we out in a boat below richmond bridge, where a dozen or more of punts full of people a fishing, and rowed among them to observe the manner of doing it, which is sinking with a gentle, sitting upon chairs, and smoking cigars and pipes of tobacco, and drinking cold brandy and water. we did note one young spark lying at full length, in a punt's end, asleep, and did conclude he had had enough of the fishing, or else of the grog. some very silent, and bent on their sport, but others bandying fun and jokes, and shouting for joy and merriment whenever they caught a fish, which mr. itchenbrooke do say is not the wont of a sportsman. among the fishers i did note with wonder one or two damsels; but mr. wagstaffe do say it is a common thing for ladies to fish for gudgeons. several of them also quite old men; but seeming as much taken up with their fishing as schoolboys, though catching nothing but little fish not a span long. so, satisfied with looking at the sportsmen, we to try the quality of the sport ourselves, and did hire a punt, and fishing tackle, and a man to guide the punt, and bait our hooks, and did take on board a stone-bottle of half-and-half beer, to follow the fashion. pretty, to see our man sound the depth of the river with a plumb, to resolve whereabouts on our lines to place the float, and glad to have him to put the bait on, being gentles, which i was loath to touch. our hooks no sooner dropped into the water than mr. itchenbrooke did pull up a fish about the bigness of a sprat, though, but for the punt-man, he would have thrown it in again, saying that he never heard of keeping any fish under half-a-pound, and that while such small fry were killed there would be no good fish in the river. but lack! to see how my float did bob up and down, and i jerk at my line, but generally bring up a weed. did marvel at the punt-man flinging lumps of earth and meal into the water to entice the fish, which methought would either have driven them away or surfeited them, but did not, and the trick did much divert mr. itchenbrooke. we did catch roach and dace to the number of fifteen, which my companion did call seven brace-and-a-half; and i caught the half: i mean the half brace. our fishing did last two hours, cost 3s., and 6d. besides for the beer, but we had much mirth for our time and money, though little fish, and yet more fish than some our man did show us, saying they had been at it all the day. so to dinner at the star and garter, where a most brave dinner and excellent wine, and pretty discourse with mr. itchenbrooke of true sport in fishing and the art of whipping for trout with an imitation fly, made out of coloured silk thread and birds' feathers. our dinner ended, cost me £1, 9s. 0d., went and bought 6d. worth of maids of honour at the pastrycook's, and did take them home to my wife. [illustration: _trycks of ye london trade._ tuesday, _september 4, 1849_.] with my wife this day to westminster, and walking thereabouts in regent-street and oxford-street, and the principal streets, though contrary to my resolution to walk with her only in the fields, but did it to please her, and keep her in good humour, but in mighty fear of what it might cost me, trembling to observe her continually looking askance at the shop-windows. but i cannot wonder that they did catch her eye; particularly the haberdashers, and drapers, and mercers, whereof many were full of bills, stuck in all manner of ways across the panes, and printed in letters of from two inches to a span long, and staring dashes of admiration two and three together. in one window posted a "tremendous sacrifice!" in another an "alarming failure!!" in a third a "ruinous bankruptcy!!!", by reason whereof, the goods within were a-selling off at 50, 60, or 70 per cent. under prime cost, but at any rate the owners must raise money. good lack! to think of the dreadful pass the drapery trade must have come to; so many master-mercers and haberdashers on the threshold of the prison or the workhouse, and their wives and families becoming paupers on the parish, or beggars, and their people out of employ starving; if their notices do tell true. but my wife did say, very serious, that we were not to judge, or to know of their tricks and cozenage, and, that it was no matter to us if they did cheat their creditors, provided we could buy their wares at a bargain, and besides, if we did not, others would. so going by ragge, rip & co., their establishment, as they do call their shop, she would needs stop in front of it to look in; which did trouble me. i to read the posters in the window, which were the worst and most pitiful of any, and by their showing mr. ragge and mr. rip, and their co. were going altogether to the dogs. my wife did presently, as i expected, find somewhat she had a mind to: a muslin she did say was dirt-cheap, and i knew was dirt-worth. i plainly refused to let her buy it, or anything else at ragge and rip's, who have been, to my knowledge, making a tremendous sacrifice any time the last two years; but the simpletons their customers the only victims. but i pity not a whit such gudgeons as are caught by these tricks of the drapery trade; rightly served by being cheated in seeking to profit, as they think, by fraud and dishonest bankruptcy. i told my wife that ragge and rip do sell off at a loss to none but those that deal with them, and were like at that moment, instead of being bankrupts, to be making merry at the expense of their dupes. but she being sullen at my denial of her muslin, i did quiet her by the promise of a better piece at faircloth and pryce's, who do carry on business without rogueish puffery, and after the old fashion of english traders, according to the maxim, that "good wine needs no bush," which my wife, poor silly wretch, not understanding, i explained to her did mean, that stuffs worth the buying, to find a sale, do stand in no need of haberdashers' trickish advertisements. [illustration: _madame tussaud her wax werkes. ye chamber of horrors!!_ wednesday, _september 5, 1849_.] to please my wife, did take her this evening to madame tussaud her wax works; a grand large room, with gilding, lighted up very splendid: cost 2s., and a catalogue 6d. the wax figures showy: but with their painted cheeks and glassy eyes--especially such as nod and move--do look like life in death. the dresses very handsome, and i think correct; and the sight of so many people of note in the array of their time, did much delight me. among the company numbers of country folk, and to see how they did stare at the effigies of the queen, and the prince, and the duke of wellington, and the king of the belgians, and the princess charlotte that was, and george the fourth in his coronation robes, grand as a peacock! the catalogue do say that his chair is the very one wherein he sat in the abbey; but it look like a play-house property, and little thought the king where it would come down to figure! a crowd of dames gazing at the group of the royal family, calling the children "dears" and "ducks," and would, i verily believe, have liked to kiss their wax chaps. my wife feasted her eyes on the little princes and princesses, i mine upon a pretty, modest, black maid beside me, and she hers on me, till my wife spying us, did pinch me with her nails in the arm. pretty, to see the sovereign allies in the last war, and bluff old blucher, and bonaparte and his officers, in brave postures, but stiff. also the two king charleses, and oliver, together; charles the first protesting against his death-warrant, and his son backing him; and cardinal wolsey looking on. lord byron in the dress of a greek pirate, looking daggers and pistols, close to john wesley preaching a sermon; and methought, if all madame tussaud's figures were their originals instead, what ado there would be! many of the faces that i knew very like; and my lord brougham i did know directly, and liston in _paul pry_. but strange, among the kings to see him that was the railway king; and methinks that it were as well now if he were melted up. thence to the napoleon rooms, where bonaparte's coach, and one of his teeth, and other reliques and gimcracks of his, well enough to see for such as care about him a button. then to the chamber of horrors, which my wife did long to see most of all; cost, with the napoleon rooms, 1s. more; a room like a dungeon, where the head of robespierre, and other scoundrels of the great french revolution, in wax, as though just cut off, horrid ghastly, and plaster casts of fellows that have been hanged: but the chief attraction a sort of dock, wherein all the notorious murderers of late years; the foremost of all, rush, according to the bill, taken from life at norwich, which, seeing he was hanged there, is an odd phrase. methinks it is of ill consequence that there should be a murderers' corner, wherein a villain may look to have his figure put more certainly than a poet can to a statue in the abbey. so away again to the large room, to look at jenny lind instead of greenacre, and at 10 of the clock home, and so to bed, my wife declaring she should dream of the chamber of horrors. [illustration: _deere stalkynge in ye hyghlandes._ monday, _september 17, 1849_.] comes mr. gollope, and mr. goblestone, and jenkyns, to dine with me off a haunch of venison, and mr. mc. nab calling, i did make him stay dinner too, and the venison very fat and good; and mr. gollope did commend my carving, whereof i was proud. between them a debate over our dinner, as to whether the red deer or the fallow deer were the better venison, and both mr. gollope and mr. goblestone do say the fallow, but mr. mc. nab will have it that the red is by far the better, and do tell them they know nothing about the matter, and never tasted red deer but such as had been mewed up in richmond park, which are mighty different from them that do browse in the highlands on the heather. he do say that highland deer-stalking do excel every other sport, from tiger-hunting to fox-hunting, which i mean to repeat to mr. corduroys to make him mad. then he to describe the manner of stalking the deer, and his account thereof mighty taking, but, with his broad scottish accent and phrases, droll; and good lack, to hear him talk of braes, and burns, and cairns, and corries, rattling the r in every word! he says that the deer are the cunningest and the watchfullest, and can see, and hear, and smell at the greatest distance of any creature almost living, and do keep spies to look out, and their ears and eyes always open and their noses to the wind, and do think and reason in their minds like human beings; which, methinks, is peculiar to the scotch deer. he says that the sport is to fetch a compass on them by stratagem, so as to approach or drive them nigh enough to shoot them with a rifle, and it do often take some hours and several miles, mostly crawling on the hands and knees, to get one shot. he says that the stalker and hill-keepers that wait on him must, to gain their chance, dodge, stooping behind crags, wriggle and creep over flats and up brooks like snakes or eels, clamber up and run down precipices, and stride over bogs, wherein they do sometimes sink plump up to the middle; which should be rather sport to the stag than the huntsman. but after all, the deer shot dead, or wounded, and at bay with the hounds at his throat, but despatched at last, and paunched, which he do call "gralloched," is such a triumph that it do repay the sportsman for all his pains. he do say that what with the grandeur of the mountains, and the freshness of the air, the spirits are raised beyond what we could imagine, and the appetite also increased wonderfully; whereat mr. gollope did prick up his ears. to conclude, he did declare that no one could know what deer-stalking was that had not tried it; but methinks i can, remembering how i used in my youth to creep in ditches and behind hedges to shoot larks. [illustration: _a prospect of an election._ thursday, _september 27, 1849_.] up, and by railway with mr. wagstaffe to guzzleford to my cosin peg her wedding, and heard the bells a ringing at 9 o'clock, the marriage not to be till 11, but found they were rung for an election; 'squire callow and mr. fairport standing for county members in the room of mr. brownjohn. so, the wedding over, we about the town to see the fun. a fellow the worse for beer demanding whose colours we wore, meaning our wedding-favours, mr. wagstaffe did pleasantly answer, hymen's, whereupon the fellow, crying "callow for ever!" did rush full at us, but, we parting, slip between us and tumble headlong into the mud. good lack! to see what numbers of ragamuffins everywhere with their hats awry, noses bleeding, or eyes blacked, staggering under huge placard boards, whereon, in great letters, "callow and agriculture," or, "vote for fairport and commerce!" the windows and balconies full of ladies, some pretty, to whom in my wife's absence i did kiss my hand. but to think of the ladies wearing the colours of the candidates, blue and yellow, but only for an excuse to deck themselves out with ribbons! in the streets, horsemen galloping to and fro, to tell the state of the polls, and the mob cheering and bantering them, mighty droll. 'squire callow did put up at the barley-mow, and mr. fairport at the rising sun, and between the two inns, with a few plump rosy farmers in top-boots, was a noisy rabble, quarrelling and fighting, with skins unwashed, and unshorn muzzles, whom the candidates' committee-men, speaking to them from the windows, did call free and independent electors. to some that harangued them, the mob did cry, "go home," and "who cheated his washerwoman?" or, "how about the workhouse beef?" yet listened to a few that were familiar and cracked old jokes with them. presently they addressed by the candidates in turn; and nasty to see them pelt each speaker with stale eggs. but to hear, as well as might be for the shouting and hissing, 'squire callow promising the farmers to restore the corn laws, and laying the potato blight and late sickness to free trade; while mr. fairport did as loudly charge all the woes and grievances of the country on the landlords. by-and-by, mr. fairport, the poll going so much against him, did give in, and then 'squire callow come forward, and make a brave speech about our glorious institutions and the british lion, and so away to have his election declared, to the town hall, in a carriage and four, and the rabblement after him. then they left behind did set to on both sides to fling stones, and 'squire callow's mob did break the windows of the rising sun, and mr. fairport's the windows of the barley-mow; which the townsmen did say would be good for the glaziers, and mr. wagstaffe do observe that the conservative 'squire callow hath destructive constituents. what with publicans, and lawyers, and damage, the election will cost the candidates £6000 or £7000 a-piece, and to think what a good motive one must have to become a parliament-man, that will spend so much money for the chance of a seat. [illustration: _a partie of sportsmen out a shutynge._ monday, _october 1, 1849_.] up mighty betimes, and to brushwood for a day's shooting, by invitation from mr. tibbitts, whose father, the rich furrier, did die the other day, and leave him a fortune, and now he hath rented brushwood manor to shoot over for the season. but lack, what a set of young rogues i found there of tibbitts his acquaintance, a-smoking of cigars and short pipes, and a-drinking of ale and bottled stout at 10 o'clock of the morning! mighty ashamed of, though diverted with, my company, to hear their loose and idle conversation, and how none of them could pronounce the letter h, and to think what an unlettered vulgar fellow tibbitts is, and that i should demean myself to associate with such a companion only because of his riches, and wine, and dinners. one of the party, wiggyns, did tell me we should have a prime lark, which, this being the first day of pheasant-shooting, i did think droll; but divers larks, indeed, were shot before the day was over. so we into the fields, and a keeper following us with the dogs, and, whenever i did look over my shoulder, did catch him grinning and making faces behind our backs. but strange, to see how much better the rogues did shoot than i expected, though firing at tom-tits, or anything almost, and do understand they got this skill at the red house, battersea, through popping at pigeons and sparrows let loose from a trap; which do seem but a cruel and a barbarous kind of sport. but little birds were not all they shot, for one higges aiming at a hare did miss, and instead of the hare hit one of the dogges, and sent him yelping and limping home. but good lack, to see how careless the fellows were with their fire-arms, carrying their guns, full-cocked, pointing right in one another's faces, and one, dragging his piece through a hedge after him, it went off, but finding it had only carried off the skirt of his shooting-coat, we had a good laugh of it. another, with a double-barrelled gun, having shot off one barrel at a blackbird, i did see reloading; the other barrel being still loaded and at full cock. he, forcing down the ramrod with all his might, i did catch him by the elbow, and point to the cock of the gun, and methinks i did never see a man on a sudden tremble so terribly, or grow so pale. getting beyond brushwood, into a field hard by, mr. wiggyns did let fly at some ducks, for one of those larks he had been talking of, which did bring down upon us the farmer, with his bull-dog, and cause us to make off with all the speed we could. i in mighty dread of being seized as an accomplice in shooting the duck, fearing the farmer, who is horridly enraged with the game-preserving at brushwood, for that the game do eat up his crops; and, truly, the game laws are a great nuisance. home from our shooting, with our bag, carried by tibbitts his tiger-boy, very full, with a brace or two of pheasants and partridges, but many more brace of chaffinches, and yellow-hammers, and robin redbreasts, and so to dinner, where all very merry, and so to bed. [illustration: _ye wyne vaults at ye docks. showynge a partye tastynge._ thursday, _october 11, 1849_.] to the docks, to meet mr. soker, and go over the wine vaults with a tasting-order, and taste the wine there before it hath undergone any roguery for the market. found there soker, and mr. wagstaffe, and swilby, and swype, and sharpe, and with them mr. goodfellowe, who had gotten soker the order. first to the quay, heaped with barrels of wine, and one huge barrel, they did tell me, holding 625 gallons, hoisted ashore, mr. wagstaffe did say, by an adjutant, or gigantic crane. then, through all manner of casks and tubs, and bales of merchandise, to st. katherine's dock, and down to the vault, where a cooper forthwith did wait on us with a couple of glasses, and gave each man a flat stick with a lamp at the farther end, to see our way. the vault almost quite dark, only lighted by sconces from the roof, and the farthest sconce looking half-a-mile off, and all this space full of barrels of wine! the roof supported by rows of columns; and the vault altogether like the crypt of a vast cathedral, but sweeter; the air smelling of wine very strong, which alone did make me feel giddy. strange to see the mildew hanging in all sorts of forms from the roof, which many do mistake for cobwebs, but some call fungus, and dr. limbeck, the chymist, do tell me is mostly nitrate of lime. the cooper did lead us to the wine we were to taste, and pretty to see him tap the barrel by boring a hole in it with a gimlet. we did drink, all round, a good ale-glass each of excellent sherry, all except mr. sharpe; and i did wonder to see him taste the wine, and call it rare good stuff, and yet spit it out, but found by and by that he was wise. next, to the london dock; and mr. goodfellowe did give us biscuit, and recommend us to eat, and i did take his advice, and glad i did. here, more curiosities in mildew, hanging from the roof; and one a festoon as big as the great sausage in the pork-shop at the corner of bow street. a good story from the cooper, of a visitor that took a specimen of the mildew away in his hat, and with the moisture of his head, it melted and blackened his face, and served him right, that--like more than enough sight-seers--could not keep his hands from picking. to several vaults, and tasted wine in each; all very vast, but the east vault the biggest, and do contain more thousand pipes, and cover more acres than i doubt, by reason of the wine i drunk, i can remember. by this time, our party very jolly and noisy, and did begin to dance and sing, and flourish their lamps like playhouse devils; and methought i did see the meaning of the notice outside, that ladies could not be admitted after 1 o'clock. coming into the open air, could scarcely stand; and mr. goodfellowe did see them into cabs, and i home on foot--straight as i could go--and my wife wondering at the redness of my nose. good lack! to see the quantity of goods and wine in the docks; and to think what a great and mighty nation we are, and what oceans of liquor we do swill and guzzle! [illustration: _a weddynge breakfaste._ monday, _october 22, 1849_.] up, and to church together with my wife, to see pall harley married this morning to dick baker; on both sides mighty genteel people, and their guests, all except ourselves, such as they do call carriage-company. pall, in a dress of white satin, and orange flowers in her hair, very pretty and demure, and dick, wearing a sky-blue coat, crimson velvet waistcoat, yellow moleskin trousers, and japanned boots; with lavender kid gloves, and a carbuncle in his shirt-front, a great buck. dick and every man of us with great white favours at our breasts, mighty conspicuous and, methought, absurd, the things serving neither for use nor ornament. but to see how grand were old fat mr. harley and mr. baker, and how more grand were their fat wives, and how fine and serious they looked and how high they carried their noses! and when the ring was put on pall's finger (dick first having fumbled for it in the wrong pocket), her mother did weep, and falling for stay on mr. harley, nigh overthrew him. but the pretty modest bridesmaids did most of all take me; which my wife observing, i saw, did trouble her. the ceremony over, and the fees paid, and the bride kissed by some of the old gentlemen, we to old harley's to breakfast, where what wiggyns do call a grand spread, very fine both for show and meats, every dish ornamented with flowers and gimcracks, the cold chickens trimmed with ribbons, and the bride-cake, having upon it wax cupids and turtle-doves, was pretty. so down we sat, dick stiff and sheepish, and pall also, shamefaced, and trying to hide her blushes with a nosegay. pall's mother in tears, and her father solemn, and the bridesmaids mostly bashful, but a little black one that sate by me very merry, and i did by-and-by pull crackers with her, till my wife suddenly thrust a pin into my arm, to the quick. the company first silent, till a friend of the young pair, who did say he had known them both from babies, did propose their health in a pretty pathetic but confused speech, and breaking down in the midst of a sentence, conclude by wishing them long life and happiness, with great applause. then the bride-groom to return thanks, but, perplexed with his pronouns, obliged to stop short too, but, he said, overcome by his feelings. the champagne flowing, we soon merrier, especially an old uncle of dick's who began to make jokes, which did trouble the bride and bride-groom. but they presently with much crying and kissing, and shaking of hands, away in a coach-and-four, amid the cheering of the crowd in the street and the boys shouting to behold the fine equipage; and servants and old women looking on from the opposite windows. we eating and drinking with great delight till late in the afternoon, but at last broke up, the multitude saluting us each as we stepped into the street, and the policeman and beadle that were guarding the door in great state, touching their hats. a grand marriage breakfast do give a brave treat to the mob, in show, and to the company in eating and drinking, and is great fun to all but those most concerned. but to think what a fuss is made about most marriages, and how little reason for it is shown by most people's married life. [illustration: a theatre, showynge ye house amused by ye comycke actor. friday, _october 26, 1849_.] to the old house in the market, where i would fain have seen _macbeth_, for the acting as well as the divertisement; but this not the night, so went half-price, and did see the _unpolished gem_, instead. touchstone did play _brother dick_, a country clown, and his figure, in a coat short in the waist, a huge striped waistcoat, trousers too big for him tucked up at the ankles, hob-nail boots, and a great ill-shaped hat, mighty droll, and did move the people to clap their hands and laugh the moment he come on the stage. then did he take off his hat, and show a red-cropped head, and smooth down his hair, and make a face upon the audience, whereat they did laugh again, and then turning round show them a back view of himself, which made them laugh the more. still greater laughter the moment he opened his mouth, and i did laugh too, as much as any, though i heard not what he said; but only for the oddness of his voice, which is such that methinks i could not keep my countenance to hear him, even if he were speaking _hamlet_. mighty droll to see him in a fine house make himself at home after the fashion of a bumpkin, and hear him in his rustical drawl and twang relate all the news and tattle of his village. what with his clodhopping gait, and awkwardness, and independence, and impudence, he did make, methinks, the veriest lout i did ever see, even in hampshire. his politeness even droller than his rudeness, and his ploughboy courtesy of kissing his hand as comical as could be. but i know not well whether i do more prefer his cocknies or his clowns; for methinks i have seen him do a snob as well as a clodpole, and he is very good in both, whether a rustical booby or a whippersnapper spark; and do use v for w, and misuse or drop his h, and talk the flash and cant of the town mighty natural. but to think how we english people do take delight in everything that is ridiculous; and how i have seen a theatre ringing with merriment at the sight of touchstone in a paper cap and apron, with a baker's tray, and a bell, crying "muffins!" or eating with his mouth full; or even putting his arms a-kimbo, or pulling his hat over his eyes, and some of the audience, and myself too, in fits almost with laughter. methinks that foreigners are wrong to suppose that we are a melancholy people, and would give up this notion if they could see us at a broad farce, and how easily we are pleased, and what straws will tickle us almost to death. home, my sides aching by reason of touchstone's drolleries, and truly he do make a mighty excellent roguish buffoon. so to bed mimicking touchstone his voice to my wife, which did divert her mightily. [illustration: _a prospecte of ye zoological societye its gardens. feedynge ye beasts._ monday, _october 29, 1849_.] to the zoological gardens, in the regent's park, at 3 p.m., in time to see the otter fed with live fishes, which he do chase round his basin in the water, and dive after mighty clever. then to the wild beasts, hungry, in a terrible rage, as i have seen others than wild beasts waiting for dinner. some of the dens with trees in them for the beasts to climb in; lions, old and young, lionesses, he and she tigers, a jaguar, an ounce, a cheetah, a spotted and black leopard: and on the other side hyænas, and pumas, and more leopards, and bears. their yelling and howling for hunger a most horrid musique, while the tigers rear on their hind legs, and dash at their bars, and grin and glare at the children outside. the ramping and roaring doubled when the keeper come with the meat, and lack! how they did fly at it with teeth and claws, and howl and snort over it, and munch and crunch the bones! but one hyæna droll, the keeper passing him by, and he, thinking he was to go without his meal, throwing himself on his back, and moaning, and crying in despair. pretty, to see the bears in their pit climb up their post for buns; which the visitors did hold to them on the end of a long stick, and them below fighting for the morsels that fell; and their clumsiness, and awkward standing on their hind legs. the white bear, also, swimming in his tank, pleasant, i being on the outside of his cage. a fine old wolf and cubs, but snarling and snapping over their victuals, seemed not a happy family. saw the eagles and vultures prey, treading on their meat, and tearing it up with their beaks; the eagles brave, but the vultures look ignoble. yet fine the great condor vulture, when the wind blew, stretching forth his wings upon it; and glad, no doubt, would have been to sail away. the parrots gay; but so shriek and squall, that their abode do seem the madhouse of the place. much taken with the seal swim in the water, and waddle out on his stomach with his tail and flappers, like a fellow with his legs tied for a wager. diverted by the gambols and antics of the monkeys and apes: yet ashamed to see such vile likenesses of ourselves: and the apes especially; and the crowd of women and ladies gazing at them! with pleasure, yet horror, did view the snakes and lizards in the reptile house, and glad they could not get at me; but hoped to see the boa constrictor swallow a live rabbit: but did not. bought gingerbread nuts to feed the elephant, cost me 2d. and he did please me, but i wished he had been bigger; but the rhinoceros did give me great delight, and with mirth heard a countryman standing by, call him the hog in armour. the bison, with his huge shaggy head and mane, horns, and fiery eyes, do look the most like a demon i ever did see. to the camel-leopards, graceful creatures; after the bison and rhinoceros. then about the gardens to watch the people and the children stare at, and feed and poke the animals. did mark some pretty damsels, and, having done gazing at the beasts, gaze at them. so home, and described to my wife what i had seen, except the damsels, and did discourse with her of natural history; which the zoological gardens do breed a pretty taste for among the people. [illustration: _westminster hall, showynge ye ceremonye of openynge terme._ friday, _november 2, 1849_.] up, and by appointment to mr. wagstaffe's, and so with him to westminster hall, to see my lord chancellor and the judges, after breakfast with my lord, this being the first day of michaelmas term, open the law courts in state, in their robes and wigs. we there at 12, the hour set for the ceremony, but, we found, only for the beginning of it by breakfast, which had we thought of, we had taken our time, as knowing that my lords would be sure to take theirs. so clear that we must have patience, mr. wagstaffe did say, like many besides us in westminster hall. so out to look at the new houses of parliament, and how the masons speed with the building, which will be mighty fine when it is done, and mr. transom do commend the style, and i too, both for the proportions and also for the heraldry and lions. then back again to the hall, where now a few more people; and presently comes marching in a party of policemen, large enough to have taken up all present, and yet hardly have had one prisoner a-piece; but the numbers did by degrees increase, and were, i did note, mostly of the better sort; thank the police. among them divers barristers-at-law, some with their sisters, some with their wives, or such as did seem like to be their wives, many of whom mighty comely damsels, and were a sight i never expected, not thinking they could care for law matters, or to see the judges, 2d.; but strange how women do flock to every concourse, whether it be to see or only to be seen. there for the first time i did behold mr. tomkyns, the young barrister, in his wig, wherein he do look mighty sedate, and i telling him i hoped he would come to open term himself, made answer as it might be some while first, he wished i might live to see it. the people now crowding about the doors of the courts, the police did make a lane between them for my lord chancellor and the judges to walk down, and mr. wagstaffe did call it chancery lane. my lords still not coming, he did observe that now we had a sample of the law's delay, and did pleasantly lay the lateness of the breakfast to the account of the master of the rolls. but they at last come, and we opposite the court of common pleas got a good view of them to my heart's content. first comes the mace, and a gentleman in his court suit, wearing a sword and bag, and with them the great seal; then my lord chancellor, and did walk down to his court at the end of the hall, looking the better of his sickness, which i was glad of. after him the other judges, of whom most did enter the door whereby we were, and mighty reverend they looked, but merry and in good humour, and beamy and ruddy after their breakfast. but to see mr. justice talfourd come last of all, shaking hands with his friends on both sides, he newly made a judge, being a poet, did most content me; and mr. wagstaffe did say he looked in good case and by no means _puisne_. the judges all entered, the rabblement let into the hall, and we away, fearing for our pockets; which are like to be very soon emptied in westminster hall. [illustration: _a prospecte of ye 5th of november, showynge ye "guys."_ monday, _nov. 5, 1849_.--guy fawkes' day.] at breakfast this morning off a new-laid egg, cost me 2d., but cheap for the time of year, did hear a shrill hallooing in the street, which my wife told me was made by the boys, going by with their guy fawkes. so on this, guy fawkes his day, did in haste swallow my breakfast, put on my boots and over-coat, and so out and about the streets and squares to see the sport, the bells ringing for church, and a scarecrow of a guy, borne by urchins on a handbarrow, with rough musique at almost every turn and corner. guy fawkes his effigies, with his fingers sticking out like spikes, and his feet all awry, his body and limbs stuffed with straw, a mask for his face, with a pipe in the mouth, and a lantern and tinder-box dangling from his wrist, and on his head a paper cap, like an old grenadier's, but a cross on it, and meant for the pope his crown. i thought to see guy with his company, borne by the police in state to the station house, but they this year mostly let alone, and more guys, and ragged regiments of boys shouting after them, than ever. the varlets, as they went, repeating doggrel verses, bidding to remember the day, and asking whomsoever they met for money for a bonfire to burn their guy, and did beg of me; but i would not fling my money into the fire. but lack to think of the delight i do take in guy fawkes, because of his ridiculous figure, and recollecting how i loved to play with fireworks on this day when a boy; though i know what a libel is the holyday on the roman catholiques, and the good reason, though the doggrel say to the contrary, why gunpowder treason should be forgot. but some, who should have known better, did give the rogues halfpence and encourage them in a show of bigotry; albeit the young ragamuffins know not what it do mean, and care only for the frolick and halfpence. from westminster, by the back ways and streets to fleet street, squibs and crackers in the courts and alleys fizzing and bouncing all the way, and did in fleet street dine at a chop-house, cost me, with beer and punch, 2s.; and so to tower hill, where the banging and blazing of the fireworks the greatest of all; and the roman candles and pin-wheels mighty pretty; but some letting off guns and pistols put me in fear. here presently i did hear a popping and cracking behind me; which was a cracker pinned by some scapegrace to my coat-tail, and did make me jump, and the standers-by to laugh: which did vex me to the heart; and mr. gregory do say, served me right for countenancing such doings. but to see the mob flinging serpents at each other, and burning and singeing one another like devils, did much divert me, till a squib whizzing past me did scorch me in the face. truly guy fawkes his day this time was mighty well kept, and mr. howlett do say its better observance is a revival of protestant spirit; but i do agree with mr. wagstaffe that protestancy is not a doctrine of fireworks, and must own it were better to bury guy fawkes, and not burn him any more. [illustration: _a banquet showynge ye farmers' friend impressynge on ye agricultural interest that it is ruined._ monday, _november 19, 1849_.] by rail to clod's norton, to my old country friend mr. giles the farmer, and with him to the meeting and yearly dinner of the north gruntham agricultural society at grumbleton, at the plantagenet arms. a mighty fine and great dinner; and the appetite of the company droll to observe, and hear mr. giles declare that all the farmers were starving. i did mightily admire the breadth and bigness of the countrymen, and their round faces like the sign of the rising sun, but not so bright, for though ruddy, looking glum. my lord mountbushel in the chair, very grand and high and mighty, yet gently demeaning himself, and did pledge them about him in wine with an obeisance the most stately i think that i did ever see a man, and wish i could do like him, and with practice hope to be able. the dinner over, and the queen drunk, and the royal family, and also the church and army and navy all drunk, the chairman did propose the toast of the evening, which was, prosperity to the north gruntham agricultural society, and made a speech, and did tell his hearers that they and the whole farming body were going to the dogs as fast as they could go; whereat, strange to hear them applaud mightily. he ended his speech by saying he hoped gentlemen would that evening, according to custom, keep clear of politics, which rule squire hawebucke next rising to speak, did promise he would observe, and forthwith made a violent harangue against sir robert peel and mr. cobden. after him got up mr. flummerie, and with great action, and thumping the table, spoke for half-an-hour, with most brave flourishes both of his fists and of language. he did tell his audience that they must be up and stirring, and quit them like good men and true, and did exhort them to rally round the altar and throne, and nail their colours to the mast, and range themselves under the banner of protection; which he did say was a flag that had braved 1,000 years the battle and the breeze, and if so, should, methinks, be by this time in tatters. he did say that the british lion had been long asleep, but was now at last aroused, which do seem a simple saying, the british lion being only a fabulous beast, like the unicorn, also in the royal arms. but to hear how the company did cheer at this mouthing, albeit it was the veriest cant and stuff; for, good lack! to think of the monarchy and church, and all morals, religion, and government, depending on the price of wheat! after more speeches in the same strain, the british labourer his health drunk, and then the prizes given out; and an old man of 80, for bringing up a family without costing the parish 1d. in 50 years, did receive £1, and others for honest service nigh as long, a jacket, a smock frock, or a pair of hob-nail boots, in reward of merit. the toasts and speech-making lasted till late, and then we broke up, the farmers mighty merry, though grumbling, but not more than their wont, at the laws and the weather, but their best friends say, will have little to complain of either, if they will but mind their business, and turn seriously to improving their husbandry. [illustration: _appearance of ye crymynyal courte during an "interestyng" tryal for murder._ friday, _november 30, 1849_.] up, and did take my wife, with a party of friends, to the old bailey, my wife having a great longing to see a prisoner tried, especially for murder, and little pleasure as she do take, poor wretch, i could not find in my heart to deny her this. got our places in the gallery, cost me 10s., which did begrudge, and do think it a scandal to the city to have money taken at the old bailey doors, as at a play, yet it do serve to keep the company choice. and, good lack! to see the assemblage of great folks about us, we sitting close by sir jessamie spinkes, and my lord pouncett, and two or three other lords on the bench by my lords the judges, and the aldermen, did make the place look as fine almost as the opera. but in truth it was as good as a play, if not better, to hear the barristers speak to the jury, especially the counsel for the prisoners, making believe to be mightily concerned for their clients, though most observable rogues, and arguing in their behalf through thick and thin, and striving as hard as they could to prove the black, that did come out in evidence against them, white; and pleading their cause as though they were injured innocents, with smiting of the breast, and turning up of the eyes, more natural than i remember i did ever see any actor. but methinks they did go a little too far when, cross-examining the witnesses, they strove to entangle them in their talk, and confound them, trying to make them blunder, so as to mislead the jury, which do seem to me only telling a lie by the witness his mouth. and then to hear them labour to destroy the witnesses' credit, and make their oath suspected; and them, however honest, seem perjurers; and to think that they do practise all this wickedness only for the lucre of their fees! among the prisoners some of the most horrid ruffians that methinks i ever did see, and some, when found guilty and sentenced even to transportation, skipping out of the dock, and snapping their fingers, which did remind me of the saying, "merry as thieves." but others looking mighty dismal, and when the evidence did tell against them, turning pale and shivering, and we had eye-glasses we took with us on purpose, and through our eye-glasses did watch the quivering of their features, which, heaven forgive us! we did take delight in. using eye-glasses did the more make it seem as if i were at a play, and what did jump with the notion was the bunches of rue on the dock in front of the prisoners, seeming almost like nosegays, which glad i am that my wife and our other ladies had not with them, for so taken were they with the ranting barristers and hang-gallows ruffians, that i do verily believe they would have flung their posies to them if they had. strange that we do make such account of criminals, and will sit for hours to see how it goes with a villain, when we would not spare five minutes to the cause of many an honest man. but for one good reason i did take pleasure in the old bailey, which was the fairness of the trials, and the patience of the judge, and justness of his summing up, which do cause me mightily to reverence our law, and to hear and see was pretty. [illustration: _a promenade concerte._ thursday, _december 6, 1849_.] did set me wife, poor wretch! this evening to mending my socks, and myself to drury lane, to monsieur jullien his concert. the first part of the concert all dr. mendelssohn his musique, which i did long mightily to hear, and, so to do in comfort, buy a ticket for the dress circle, cost me 2s. 6d., but found the seats all full, and obliged to stand the whole while, which made me mad, but a pretty full-eyed young lady being forced to stand too, and close by me, though with her brother, did comfort me a little, not that she could not sit, but that she was by me. heard a symphony that did well please me, seeming to lift me into the clouds, and was mighty mystical and pretty; and the musique in the _midsummer night's dream_ did give me much delight, the twittering throughout the overture putting me in mind of singing-birds and fairies and i know not what, and the sleepy passages very sweet and lulling. mightily taken with the prelude to the mock-tragedy, _bottom_ his march, as droll musique as i ever heard; but what did most of all delight me was the wedding march, a noble piece, and i did rejoice therein, and do think to hire a band to play it under our window on my wedding day. monsieur jullien in his white waistcoat and with his moustachios mighty spruce and as grand as ever, and did conduct the musique, but so quietly in the first part that i could scarce have believed it, and methought showed reverence for the composer; which was handsome. but good lack! to see him presently, when he come to direct "_god save the queen_," flourish his batoon, and act the mad musician! all the company rising and taking off their hats to hear that majestical anthem, presently some most ridiculous and impertinent variations set all the house a laughing and some hissing, and i do suspect monsieur jullien had a special audience this night, that would not away with such tricks. between the parts of the concert, i into the pit to walk about among the sparks, where a great press, the house crammed to the ceiling. in the refreshment and reading rooms, young blades and lasses drinking of coffee and eating of ices, and reading of the news, with shrubs and statues round about, and the house all white and gold, and brightly lighted, mighty gay; and the sparks jaunty, but not, i think, wearing such flaming neckcloths and breast pins as they were wont. heard in part second some musique of the _prophète_, full of snorting of brass instruments and tinkling of triangles, and a long waltz that did give me the fidgets, and nothing please me at all, save jetty treffz her singing of "_trab, trab_," which was pretty. lastly, the row-polka played, and well-named and very droll and absurd, with chiming-in of voices and other monstrous accompaniments, a good ridiculous rough musique. but many of the hearers did hiss, methought with unreason, the polka being no emptier than any other polka, and having some joke in it. home, the wedding march running in my head, and glad to find good musique drawing so great a house, which i do hope will be a hint to monsieur jullien. [illustration: _ye serpentyne during a hard frost. ye publique upon it._ tuesday, _january 29, 1850_.] up, and after breakfast, to which a new laid egg at this time of year cost me 2d., to hyde park to see the skating on the serpentine, very admirable and mighty good mirth. the members of the skating club, with their booth by the ice mighty select, yet do as it were perform for the amusement of the british publique. pretty to see them cut out figures of 8, and in a sort dance quadrilles upon the ice, which i very much wish i could do myself, but cannot skate at all, and never could, but whenever i tried to always tumbled down, generally a squat, which hurt me. upon the ice all sorts of people high and low, great and little, old and young, women and children, indeed a multitude of the british publique altogether. with their hollaing and shouting a continual roar like the cawing and clacking of innumerable rooks and jackdaws. pretty to see the chairs and forms on the brink of the ice, where dirty boys and men do ply with skates for hire, and kneeling and screwing and straping them on to skater's feet turn a good penny. many fine girls also, both fair and black, skating in their warm furs and muffs mighty snug and elegant, please me most of all; and a troop of schoolgirls walk two and two along the shore very pretty. fun to see how the skaters do throw themselves into all manner of postures, and how many of them tumble down, and sprawl about, and roll over one another topsy-turvy, and kick their heels in the air. also the unskilful beginning to learn to skate helped on to the ice, and an old woman pulled on by a lively urchin, make me laugh heartily. but the most ridiculous sight the lower sort, not skating but sliding, butcher lads, and costermongers, and street boys with sticks and bludgeons in their hands, and some in their mouths short pipes, smoking while they slide, which i wonder how they can. good lack, to see them come the cobbler's knock as they say, and keep the pot a-boiling! likewise how of a fellow upon the ice with a potato can upon a fire-basket, they buy and eat roast potatoes which the sellers cry _taturs all hot!_ the street boys, too, where the ice at the sides thin, flock together nigh the edge, and throw stones breaking the ice, and i did hear one of the varlets as his pebble crash through cry, "there goes a window," and could not but laugh, though i would fain have boxed his ears. on top of a pole in one part of the ice a board marked "dangerous," nevertheless many so foolhardy as to skate close to it, until at last the ice broke and a fool went in and was like to have drowned, but the humane society's men did come with drags, and one of them fish him out by the scuff of his trowsers, mighty laughable. they carry him off to the receiving house, where they chafe and wrap him in warm blankets to bring him to, and give him hot brandy and water to recruit him and send him home comfortable, and so reward him for his folly, and encourage other fools to imitate his silly example. methinks such an idle companion were well served if, instead of getting hot grog, he were sent home with a good hiding. [illustration: _a fashionable club. four o'clock p.m._ thursday, _february 14, 1850_.] this afternoon at four o'clock with gubbyns to the leviathan club whereof he is a member, and do mean to propose me to be a member too which i very much wish, only fear i may be black-balled but hope not. to-day he take me over the club to see it, which delight me much, and good lack to see how splendid the building and the carvings and gildings of the walls and windows, for all the world like a palace, wherein a private man every day of his life may live like a king, as i should like to. all the rooms as full as could be of all manner of comforts and conveniences, especially the great room where the members do sit in easy chairs with well-stuffed soft backs and cushions lined with lovely smooth shining morocco leather, or loll along on sofas and ottomans the same, and read the reviews and papers and are served by footmen in livery with glasses of sherry and tumblers of brandy and soda water, all at their ease, and enjoy such accommodation as i think i never could have imagined unless i had seen. curious to observe the different readers and the paper each reading; a parliament or city man the times, a member, i take it, of the protestant association at exeter-hall the morning herald, another the standard, newspapers the wits call mrs. gamp and mrs. harris, which is great roguery. some in groups stand a gossiping, some looking out of windows down on the people in the street as they go by, mighty agreeable to such as are well off, and would give me very much pleasure. others with their backs to the fire, and one methought a country squire striding in front of the grate, with his hands behind him under his coat tails warming himself and looking abroad over his neckcloth, as though upon his parish, and as if he were monarch of all he surveyed; mighty dignified and droll. likewise a youth of some condition, but somewhat too like a shopboy, in a pretty ridiculous posture, eyeing himself in a pier glass, did, with his walking cane sticking athwart his arm, divert me. the magazines, guide books, post directories, and so on lying about on the tables mighty handy, and i did note also a pack of cards and hear some of the club men do play. after going all over the club-house, and the lavatories and all, gubbyns take me to dine with him in the strangers' room, and a mighty good dinner with excellent claret, cost him how much i did not like to ask, but no doubt much more cheap and better than it would have come to in the cheapest tolerable inn. thence, after dinner, to the smoking room to smoke a cigar, and drink seltzer water and brandy, and, after talk of the news, and all the rumour about town, and a good deal of scandal, and some roguish conversation, home, and so to bed. [illustration: _the circus at astley's._ friday, _march 8, 1850_.] to the circus at astley's late, so missed the grand equestrian drama, which vex me not much, for the acting only horseplay. but in time to see the horsemanship in the circle, which was what i wanted, and got a good place in the boxes, but would have preferred the pit, except for the company, which is of the lower sort, and there they do sit with their hats on, and eat oranges and drink soda water and ginger beer, which make me ashamed. pretty riding on a cream-coloured horse by a pretty black girl, and on horseback dancing carried a basket of flowers, and dance mighty pretty, but being above i could but look down upon little but her head, which did somewhat vex me that i was not below in the pit. also a fellow in the dress of an italian robber they call a brigand ride on three horses at once, and please me i think as much as anything i ever saw in my life. one of the horses he rode piebald, the others spotted, pretty to see. curious to observe the riding master continually smacking his whip to keep the horses galloping close to the circle, but above all the head riding master they call widdicombe in a uniform with epaulettes, as it were a generalissimo, mighty pompous and droll, divert me beyond measure, and good lack to hear, between the horsemanship, the dialogues between widdicombe and the clown. as the clown walking before widdicombe out of the ring, widdicombe say "stop, sir, go behind; i never follow the fool." "don't you," say the clown, "then i do," and walk after him; which tickle me and make me laugh, so that i was like to burst my sides. and lack to see the dignity of widdicombe, how grand he bear himself and look down upon the clown as an inferior being, calling him generally fool, or else sometimes more gracious, mr. merriman. i do hear widdicombe is now an old man, but his cherry cheeks, and black hair and eyebrows, make him look young, and his waistcoat padded well out on the chest takes from his paunch, and though no doubt he be made up, he make himself up mighty clever. all this while the orchestra, mostly of brass, trumpeting and banging away the most suitable music to the performance i think that ever could be played except the tongs and bones. about me in the boxes great numbers of small children, both boys and girls, some babies almost, enjoy the spectacle as much as any, and i do like to see them, and think they with their mirth do make their elders enjoy it all the more, and did think i should have liked to have had some of my own to take with me, but then thinking of the expense of a family make me better content with none. the horsemanship mighty good fun for the children, but serious entertainment to the grown-up, and strange to see how earnest they sit and gaze and stare with their eyes wide open, and their minds also fixed upon the horses, and to perceive that they who think so much of horses do commonly think very little upon much else, and how many there be of that sort among the english people. after astley's in a cab to the albion tavern, where a dish of kidneys, a welsh rarebit, a pint of stout, and a go of whisky cost me 3s., and so home in another cab and so to bed. [illustration: _ye fathers of ye churche gyving judgmente upon ye knottye poynt._ saturday, _march 9, 1850_.] to the judicial committee of privy council to hear judgment delivered in the great gorham case, the reverend mr. gorham against the bishop of exeter for refusing to institute him to the living of bramford speke, which the bishop refuse because mr. gorham deny baptismal regeneration. the court of arches gave sentence for the bishop, and gorham then appeal to the privy council. a great commotion among the clergy, and not a little among the people also. the high church hold, with the bishop of exeter, the same opinion of baptism as the catholiques, and the low do side with gorham and the baptists and most other dissenters. to the council chamber betimes, and did get a good place and hear very well. the chamber all the public part of it crammed with as many people as could well get in. lack, to see what numbers of the clergy here, both high church and low, and distinguish them by their looks, and their dress, and particularly by their ties and waistcoats. also present many dissenters and roman catholiques, and among the catholiques i did note bishop wiseman the catholique bishop of melipotamus, and vicar apostolique of the london district in the front row next my lord the president's chair, pricking up his ears. by and by in come the lords of the council and take their places, mighty grave, yet as they sit do seem to take it easy. they sit at a table in the midst of the chamber, where, among them, lords brougham and campbell look mighty ill-favoured and droll. behind, towards the bookshelves, the lay lords, but with them a bishop in his knee breeches and apron, and a shovel hat in his hand. among the lay lords the earl of carlisle, a great nobleman, and do look noble, and very much like liston the player. hush, and silence, even the ladies, of whom some present in the crowd, when my lord langdale rise to deliver judgment, which he did mighty clever, and lay down the law, but no theological argument, which i expected to hear, but did not. for he said the committee have no authority to determine points of doctrine, and whether baptismal regeneration were true or false, but only whether the clergy were bound to hold it, or free to deny it, by the thirty-nine articles. and by that rule he gave judgment for gorham against the bishop, and i see not how he could have done otherwise, nor why the high church should be so aghast and angry, nor wiseman smile and look so merry and scornful as he did, and seem so mightily diverted. so the bishop will have to submit, and institute gorham, or else resign his bishoprick, which i dare swear he will not. nor do i much fear that many of the high church clergy will leave the church, as some prophesy, and turn catholiques, and relinquish the loaves and fishes. methinks it is a mighty good thing that both high church clergy and low are bound only by the articles as interpreted by the law lords in the judicial committee, and not by themselves on either one side or the other, for of all men methinks the clergy of every sect have less than any of a judicial mind. [illustration: _a juvenile partye._ wednesday, _april 24, 1850_.] with my wife this evening to mr. hartley's to a children's party, but some grown up, and among them me and my wife, though we have no children, which vex me, but not much, for children mighty expensive and cost money, and, if i had them, would only force me to deny myself a great many pleasures i now enjoy, and could not then afford. a large drawing room very fine, and well lighted up, and so many children of all ages down to babies almost as i think i did never before, altogether in one room, see. pretty to see how the little boys and girls dance when mynheer schlamm thump and bang the piano, and some of the very smallest taught to dance nearly as soon as they could walk, and how they stand in position and point their toes with heels close together, and arms hanging down, as they do when the dancing-master teach them their dancing lessons. and to see how pleased all the girls to dance, but not all the boys, but a good many of them look unhappy, yet pretty to observe how a few little boys make love to the little girls, and one little boy offer a little girl a nosegay, like a young gallant, and she take it with the air of a coquette mighty pretty. but most of the boys make a great deal more love to the good things on the tables; the sweets and pastry, jelly, blanc-mange, tarts, pies, tipsy-cake, trifle, and ice-creams, and good lack how they push, and scramble, and hold out their plates, to get slices of cake, while hartley cut up a great rich cake like a twelfth-cake and share it between them, and they eat and stuff all they can, and i fear me some of them ill to-morrow if not before. droll to see a little boy stand astride stuffing into his mouth a pie whole like a pantomime clown. another small boy sitting down upon a pile of plates set by on the floor, they having been eaten from, in the remains of trifle, cause great laughter. so did a fat dame with her little boy and girl, and an arm round each, like a great plump fowl, a gizzard under one wing and liver beneath the other. droll to see hartley's little girl sit in her grandmother's chair beside her crutch, where her grandmother hobbling in did find her, and to think that she too will be such another old woman, one of these days, if she live. some of the bigger boys public school boys, mighty grand, and a few wearing spectacles like young owls. mrs. hartley's brother, mr. st. leger, dress himself like a conjuror, in a conjuring cap with magick characters on it, and conjure with cards, and oranges, and little images, and dolls, mighty clever, and i do mean to get him if i can to teach me. one thing made me laugh heartily was to see the page they call buttons stand behind him while he conjure, buttons with his eyes staring wide open, and he grinning with his mouth from ear to ear. the young folk after supper to dance again, and romp, and play at blindman's buff, and meanwhile the elder sup too, and i and my wife on cold fowl and ham, and lobster salad, and champagne, mighty merry, and so home betimes mighty comfortable, and methinks i do like a children's more than any other evening party, to see the children and their elders also, play the fool, and to break up, and get home early, and so with content and comfort to bed. [illustration: _grande review._ wednesday, _may 15, 1850_.] up, and to st. james's park, to see on the parade ground, the inspection, as usual upon the queen's birthday, appointed to be celebrated beforehand this day, of a battalion of the coldstream and grenadier guards, and a troop of the royal horse guards they call the blues. through a friend at court, got, with a choice few, a good place, nigh the sentry with the colours, where he stood to keep the ground, and the publique at a distance, where i also wish always to keep yet pleased to see them. the troops reviewed by the commander in chief, field marshal the duke of wellington, and with him the other field marshals, prince albert and the duke of cambridge, made field marshals i suppose for the martial deeds they would no doubt have done, if they had ever had the chance in the field. field marshal the prince, the colonel of the scots fusiliers, and field marshal the royal duke of the coldstream, and the great field marshal the duke of wellington, colonel of the grenadier guards. besides the field marshals, at their heels a great staff of officers, of lancers and hussars, and the earl of cardigan among them, looking mighty fierce. the duke of wellington at their head riding gently along inspecting his regiment standing in their big caps of bearskin, which do seem much too big for them though they mostly six feet high, a mighty brave sight, yet a comical, as the men stood shouldering arms with their heels together, and their toes turned out like the little girls and boys i did see dance at a children's party. glad to get so good a view as i had of the duke, and wonderful to see how well and firm he sits his horse, and he now fourscore-and-two years old, and to think what a great general he is and do look, and with his eagle nose, very much resemble _mr. punch_. the officers of the staff bestriding their horses very gallant, and the horses most noble animals and their prancing very pretty. good sport to see a dragoon ride keeping order, flourish and point drawn sword at a fat old woman who with a cotton umbrella and arms spread all abroad in terror, run out of his way, and policemen with their staves closing in as it were to catch the old woman. other policemen rushing to and fro, help the soldiers keep the ground, and the british publique back, and beat back them that would fain press too forward with their staves. pleasant in a place where plenty of elbow-room, to behold the british publique, around one in the midst the likeness of john bull, perched on a barrel, jostled one against the other, push and scramble and tread upon one another's toes, and tumble topsy-turvy some of them and head over heels; when i had got comfortable standing in the meanwhile with a dozen or so of the better sort, and two or three poodle and terrier dogs, in the middle of the parade where the troops were inspected, got in i suppose by favour, like me. but, good lack, to think what playing at soldiers now a holiday review like this do seem, and think at the same time what serious work the duke of wellington hath seen and done in his day, which how many seem to forget, and almost think him a humbug, and if ever and how soon we shall have the like to do again, and find another such a man, to do it. [illustration: _a pic-nic._ thursday, _may 23, 1850_.] with my wife to a pic-nic party. i to content her more than to please myself, and to think how i always study her pleasure more than my own, and sacrifice my own inclinations to hers always. for i prefer to eat good things off a plate or a table, and not upon my knees. besides, the fly hired to carry us from home and back, cost me three guineas. the pic-nic in my lord bilberry's park, where the ruins of an old abbey, open by my lord's allowance, people come to see from all parts, gipsying, and making merry and dancing basely among the ruins. these with mouldering arches and stones overgrown with moss, and lichen, and ivy, mighty venerable, and set off by a youth with long hair and turned-down collar, leaning on a broken pillar, striking an attitude and staring at the sky, as though musing on infinity but in truth fancying himself an object of admiration. but, he wrapt up in that mistake, and forgetting his meals, the rest intent altogether on the good things from fortnum and mason's and the pastry cook's; and good lack to see how they, to the number of nigh forty men, women, and girls, pitch into the ham and chicken, and the cold meat and lobster salad, and pigeon and veal and ham pie, and therewith drink bottled ale and stout, whereof a fat serving man in livery, hardly drawing a quart bottle, mighty comical, and also a page, who, carrying plates, kick against a wasps' nest and raise the wasps about his ears and there he stand fighting them with a knife, his face in the centre of the swarm the image of horror. the younger men mostly mighty polite, they, and especially one with a fine slim figure and hooked nose, with constrained postures, making obeisance as they serve the girls with beer and wine, whereof they as well as the men mostly drink their whack, and pretty to see how one most elegant damsel seem falling into a happy dream and how with her hair flowing all adown she droop her eyelids, muzzy. but some did get full of fun, and a little rogue i see pour the heel-tap of a champagne glass into the face of a youngster, who, lying on his back, had fallen on sleep. the managers of the collection also mighty attentive, doing the honours, and rare to see one of them, a fine portly man, carve slices off great round of beef, in high glee. but another rising from his camp stool to hand a plate to a fine fat dame, she and her pretty daughter suddenly frighted by a toad and frog, which crawl and hop towards them out of some flags by the water, start back in horror, and startle him and make him upset several wine glasses and the water can, and stamp on and smash a plate. among the elders worth noting a lean old professor, and his neighbour a smug lawyer how they gave their whole minds to most serious eating, and also one or two of the younger men did nought but stuff themselves; but most made love; and pretty to see a loving couple clink glasses together, while other pairs having had enough, saunter and strut about among and outside the ruins. good lack to think what a deal we ate and drank between us, and how famished on one hand looked a lean old labourer in a smock frock with a chubby but hungry little clown, eyeing the picked bones, while a cur on the other did, in his mouth, run away with the wing of a fowl. [illustration: _vauxhall._ monday, _july 15, 1850_.] this evening to vauxhall, where a gala night and much company, mostly of the middling sort, except the worse. very few gentlemen of any condition do now visit this place, but plenty of the whippersnapper sparks that shopmen used to call gents, and a very good word to distinguish them, although a vile, as much as to say snobs. the better sort of all there chiefly medical students. no place for ladies, but here and there a respectable but stupid farmer from the country with his wife or daughter. a bare, faded kind of a garden, patched with shabby trees, variegated lamps hanging to their branches among smoky leaves. the lamps do seem the main attraction, the bill of entertainments advertise 10,000 additional every night, which seems great folly. however, the outlines of all the buildings picked out with parti-coloured lamps mighty gay. a wooden building on one side called the rotunda, where an orchestra and they sing, and opposite an alcove where a band in uniform play at the same time tunes which the gents and their partners dance to, waltzing and spinning round like teetotums, droll to look upon. the partners some pretty but nearly all ill-looking, and one or two horribly ill-favoured, and to see the people sit and look on, and among them a fat country wife, and prim starched old maid very thin, make me ashamed. also a fat singing woman sung a song, not at all to my liking, and did throw herself about and make faces. another alcove hung with lamps in festoons, and in the middle a circus theatre and a crowd at the door crowding to see a dancing girl jump through hoops and dance upon horseback. other alcoves with seats for eating and drinking, and they eat ham and chicken, and i a plate cost me 2s. 6d., and the ham mighty thin, which is vauxhall fashion, and they drink arrack, a spirit i was curious to taste, and did and never shall again. but what did please me was a drink newly come in from america, and called sherry cobbler, made of sherry and orange and lumps of ice, and sucked up into the mouth with a straw, which to see two gents do for the first time did take me mightily, and i did do likewise, mighty cool and refreshing and did delight me much, and three cobblers cost me 3 shillings. amused to see the gents strut about so jaunty smoking cigars, i think cabbage leaf steeped in tobacco-juice. they also drink rhubarb wine they call champagne cost them 10s. a bottle, and bottled stout, and good lack to see the lots of empty bottles on the by-tables! an old fellow with a pot-paunch that had had too much drink fallen asleep, a comical sight, whilst pretty to see the waiters dance attendance with the refreshments, and hear the hollaing and shouting, and altogether a good deal of fun, but dreary; but a family of little boys and girls with their fat father mighty merry, and clap their hands to see the balloon go up in another part of the gardens. a grand display of fireworks to conclude diverted me too, and so home and to bed, hoping after my evening's entertainment i shall not wake with a headache in the morning. [illustration: _a scientific institution._ friday (_further date wanting in ms._). weekly evening meeting.] this evening to the royal institution, to hear professor owen, the hunterian professor to surgeons' college, lecturer on comparative anatomy and physiology, on the nature of limbs. to the institution early, to the theatre, and there got a good place, the theatre already filling and soon crammed like any playhouse where some leading actor make his appearance in a great part, gallery and all, as they say, to the ceiling. the audience sitting on semi-circular benches covered with red stuff, tier above tier, behind the select visitors to the front in reserved chairs. a mighty droll sea of faces, mostly wry, with eyes peering and squinting, many through spectacles, though some well-featured, one here and there a great head, but few handsome, ladies excepted, a good sprinkling of belles, and they look mighty pretty, the rather by comparison with their elders, the strong-minded women, and the philosophers around them, for the greater part to look at, as the vulgar phrase is, a rum lot. in the centre of the reserved seats an arm-chair for the chairman facing the lecture table, whereon prints and papers, a book and a water-carafe and tumbler. behind on a showboard on the wall diagrams and plates of skeletons of extinct animals, fish, and flying lizards, and a dinotherium, and mastodon, and mammoth, and withal a human skull, the people contemplate, and the ladies and damsels even, with complacence, and to think all those pretty creatures have skeletons in themselves! by-and-by at eight, enter the chairman and take the chair, a fine fat portly man with a great jole, and solemn look, mighty noble, and was, a medical student say, an awful swell. then in come the lecturer, the professor, to great clapping of hands, and he make his bow, and begin. i mighty taken with his discourse, and to see him point out with a long wand he lean upon while he lecture, the bones and other parts in the diagrams of the skeletons behind him he describe, and explain how this and that bone, the same as a human bone, exist only in a different form in animals, and strange the pterodactyl's wing-bone a great little finger. lack to think of such animals nothing remain but fossil bones, and the animals, geologists say, did live and die ages before adam, shake some people's faith. but mr. holdfast think geology bosh, extinct quadrupeds monsters destroyed in ancient times by the heroes. likewise the fish lizards and pterodactyles dragons, st. george and the dragon all true, and st. george did verily slay a dragon, and accounts of real reptiles under the name of dragons handed down by tradition; their bones now dug up out of the earth witness legends true, and no fable, and reconcile orthodoxy with science. however he do not say he believe they belch fire and smoke. so my thoughts a little wandering from professor owen's lecture, to listen attentively, but the air so foul with much breath and burning of gas that i at last nearly asleep and fain to pinch myself to keep awake. strange, in the chief of chemical lecture rooms such bad ventilation. but to think what a philosopher professor owen is and can tell an unknown animal whether bird or beast by a single bone, and the french may brag of monsieur cuvier, but england have as good reason to be proud of professor owen. _the cities series_ a brilliant series of drawings by eminent artists. in decorative covers, 8-1/4 x 5 inches, 1/-net. with the illustrations in photogravure mounted on hand-made paper. bound in parchment boards, with mounted illustrations, 2/6 net. _i. a little book of london_ twenty-five drawings in photogravure by joseph pennell. _ii. the great new york_ twenty-four drawings in photogravure by joseph pennell. _iii. the city of the west_ twenty-four drawings in photogravure by jessie m. king. _iv. the grey city of the north_ twenty-four drawings by jessie m. king. _uniform volume_ _manners & customs of ye englyshe_ forty-nine drawings by richard doyle, to which are added mr. pips his diary, by percival leigh. t. n. foulis 91 great russell street, london, w.c. & at 15 frederick street, edinburgh * * * * * transcriber's notes: multiple spellings not changed: multiple spellings are left as in the original. fashionable, fashonable both "birthday" and "birth-day" appear in the text both "club-house" and "club-house" both "exeter-hall" p.092 and "exeter hall" both "pic-nic" and "pic-nic" both "raylway" and "raylwaye" different spellings of "street" [illustration: well, al, just as this was coming off her old man come at me] the real dope, by ring w. lardner author of gullible's travels, my four weeks in france, treat 'em rough, etc. illustrated by may wilson preston and m. l. blumenthal chapter i and many a stormy wind shall blow _on the ship board, jan. 15._ friend al: well al i suppose it is kind of foolish to be writeing you a letter now when they won't be no chance to mail it till we get across the old pond but still and all a man has got to do something to keep themself busy and i know you will be glad to hear all about our trip so i might as well write you a letter when ever i get a chance and i can mail them to you all at once when we get across the old pond and you will think i have wrote a book or something. jokeing a side al you are lucky to have an old pal thats going to see all the fun and write to you about it because its a different thing haveing a person write to you about what they see themself then getting the dope out of a newspaper or something because you will know that what i tell you is the real dope that i seen myself where if you read it in a newspaper you know its guest work because in the 1st. place they don't leave the reporters get nowheres near the front and besides that they wouldn't go there if they had a leave because they would be to scared like the baseball reporters that sets a mile from the game because they haven't got the nerve to get down on the field where a man could take a punch at them and even when they are a mile away with a screen in front of them they duck when somebody hits a pop foul. well al it is against the rules to tell you when we left the old u. s. or where we come away from because the pro german spy might get a hold of a man's letter some way and then it would be good night because he would send a telegram to where the submarines is located at and they wouldn't send no 1 or 2 submarines after us but the whole german navy would get after us because they would figure that if they ever got us it would be a rich hall. when i say that al i don't mean it to sound like i was swell headed or something and i don't mean it would be a rich hall because i am on board or nothing like that but you would know what i am getting at if you seen the bunch we are takeing across. in the 1st. place al this is a different kind of a trip then the time i went around the world with the 2 ball clubs because then it was just the 1 boat load and only for two or 3 of the boys on board it wouldn't of made no difference if the boat had of turned a turtle only to pave the whole bottom of the ocean with ivory. but this time al we have got not only 1 boat load but we got four boat loads of soldiers alone and that is not all we have got. all together al there is 10 boats in the parade and 6 of them is what they call the convoys and that means war ships that goes along to see that we get there safe on acct. of the submarines and four of them is what they call destroyers and they are little bits of shafers but they say they can go like he--ll when they get started and when a submarine pops up these little birds chases right after them and drops a death bomb on to them and if it ever hits them the capt. of the submarine can pick up what is left of his boat and stick a 2 cent stamp on it and mail it to the kaiser. jokeing a side i guess they's no chance of a submarine getting fat off of us as long as these little birds is on watch so i don't see why a man shouldn't come right out and say when we left and from where we come from but if they didn't have some kind of rules they's a lot of guys that wouldn't know no better then write to van hinburg or somebody and tell them all they know but i guess at that they could use a post card. well al we been at sea just two days and a lot of the boys has gave up the ghost all ready and pretty near everything else but i haven't felt the least bit sick that is sea sick but i will own up i felt a little home sick just as we come out of the harbor and seen the godess of liberty standing up there maybe for the last time but don't think for a minute al that i am sorry i come and i only wish we was over there all ready and could get in to it and the only kick i got comeing so far is that we haven't got no further then we are now on acct. that we didn't do nothing the 1st. day only stall around like we was waiting for connie mack to waggle his score card or something. but we will get there some time and when we do you can bet we will show them something and i am tickled to death i am going and if i lay down my life i will feel like it wasn't throwed away for nothing like you would die of tyford fever or something. well i would of liked to of had florrie and little al come east and see me off but florrie felt like she couldn't afford to spend the money to make another long trip after making one long trip down to texas and besides we wasn't even supposed to tell our family where we was going to sail from but i notice they was a lot of women folks right down to the dock to bid us good by and i suppose they just guessed what was comeing off eh al? or maybe they was all strangers that just happened to be there but i'll say i never seen so much kissing between strangers. any way i and my family had our farewells out west and florrie was got up like a fancy dress ball and i suppose if i die where she can tend the funeral she will come in pink tights or something. well al i better not keep on talking about florrie and little al or i will do the baby act and any way its pretty near time for chow but i suppose you will wonder what am i talking about when i say chow. well al that's the name we boys got up down to camp grant for stuff to eat and when we talk about food instead of saying food we say chow so that's what i am getting at when i say its pretty near time for chow. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 17._ friend al: well al here we are out somewheres in the middle of the old pond and i wished the trip was over not because i have been sea sick or anything but i can't hardly wait to get over there and get in to it and besides they got us jammed in like a sardine or something and four of us in 1 state room and i don't mind doubleing up with some good pal but a man can't get no rest when they's four trying to sleep in a room that wouldn't be big enough for nemo liebold but i wouldn't make no holler at that if they had of left us pick our own roomys but out of the four of us they's one that looks like he must of bribed the jury or he wouldn't be here and his name is smith and another one's name is sam hall and he has always got a grouch on and the other boy is o. k. only i would like him a whole lot better if he was about 1/2 his size but no he is as big as me only not put up like i am. his name is lee and he pulls a lot of funny stuff like this a. m. he says they must of thought us four was a male quartette and they stuck us all in together so as we could get some close harmony. that's what they call it when they hit them minors. well al i always been use to sleeping with my feet in bed with me but you can't do that in the bunk i have got because your knee would crack you in the jaw and knock you out and even if they was room to strech hall keeps crabbing till you can't rest and he keeps the room filled up with cigarette smoke and no air and you can't open up the port hole or you would freeze to death so about the only chance i get to sleep is up in the parlor in a chair in the day time and you don't no sooner set down when they got a life boat drill or something and for some reason another they have a role call every day and that means everybody has got to answer to their name to see if we are all on board just as if they was any other place to go. when they give the signal for a life boat drill everybody has got to stick their life belt on and go to the boat where they have been given the number of it and even when everybody knows its a fake you got to show up just the same and yesterday they was one bird thats supposed to go in our life boat and he was sea sick and he didn't show up so they went after him and one of the officers told him that wasn't no excuse and what would he do if he was sea sick and the ship was realy sinking and he says he thought it was realy sinking ever since we started. well al we got some crowd on the boat and they's two french officers along with us that been giveing drills and etc. in one of the camps in the u. s. and navy officers and gunners and a man would almost wish something would happen because i bet we would put up some battle. lee just come in and asked me who was i writeing to and i told him and he says i better be careful to not write nothing against anybody on the trip just as if i would. but any way i asked him why not and he says because all the mail would be opened and read by the censor so i said "yes but he won't see this because i won't mail it till we get across the old pond and then i will mail all my letters at once." so he said a man can't do it that way because just before we hit land the censor will take all our mail off of us and read it and cut out whatever he don't like and then mail it himself. so i didn't know we had a censor along with us but lee says we certainly have got one and he is up in the front ship and they call that the censor ship on acct. of him being on there. well al i don't care what he reads and what he don't read because i am not the kind that spill anything about the trip that would hurt anybody or get them in bad. so he is welcome to read anything i write you might say. this front ship is the slowest one of the whole four and how is that for fine judgment al to put the slowest one ahead and this ship we are on is the fastest and they keep us behind instead of leaving us go up ahead and set the pace for them and no wonder we never get nowheres. of course that ain't the censor's fault but if the old u. s. is in such a hurry to get men across the pond i should think they would use some judgment and its just like as if hughey jennings would stick oscar stanage or somebody ahead of cobb in the batting order so as cobb couldn't make to many bases on a hit. well al i will have to cut it out for now because its pretty near time for chow and that's the name we got up out to camp grant for meals and now everybody in the army when they talk about food they call it chow. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 19._ friend al: well al they have got a new nickname for me and now they call me jack tar and bob lee got it up and i will tell you how it come off. last night was one rough bird and i guess pretty near everybody on the boat were sick and lee says to me how was it that i stood the rough weather so good and it didn't seem to effect me so i says it was probably on acct. of me going around the world that time with the two ball clubs and i was right at home on the water so he says "i guess we better call you jack tar." so that's how they come to call me jack tar and its a name they got for old sailors that's been all their life on the water. so on acct. of my name being jack it fits in pretty good. well a man can't help from feeling sorry for the boys that have not been across the old pond before and can't stand a little rough spell but it makes a man kind of proud to think the rough weather don't effect you when pretty near everybody else feels like a churn or something the minute a drop of water splashes vs. the side of the boat but still a man can't hardly help from laughing when they look at them. lee says he would of thought i would of enlisted in the navy on acct. of being such a good sailor. well i would of al if i had knew they needed men and i told lee so and he said he thought the u. s. made a big mistake keeping it a secret that they did need men in the navy till all the good ones enlisted in the draft and then of course the navy had to take what they could get. well i guess i all ready told you that one of the boys in our room is named freddie smith and he don't never say a word and i thought at 1st. it was because he was a kind of a bum like hall that didn't know nothing and that's why he didn't say it but it seems the reason he don't talk more is because he can't talk english very good but he is a frenchman and he was a waiter in the big french resturent in milwaukee and now what do you think al he is going to learn lee and i french lessons and lee fixed it up with him. we want to learn how to talk a little so when we get there we can make ourself understood and you remember i started studing french out to camp grant but the man down there didn't know nothing about what he was talking about so i walked out on him but this bird won't try and learn us grammer or how you spell it or nothing like that but just a few words so as we can order drinks and meals and etc. when we get a leave off some time. tonight we are going to have our 1st. lesson and with a man like he to learn us we ought to pick it up quick. well old pal i will wind up for this time as i don't feel very good on acct. of something i eat this noon and its a wonder a man can keep up at all where they got you in a stateroom jammed in like a sardine or something and hall smokeing all the while like he was a freight engine pulling a freight train up grade or something. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 20._ friend al: just a line al because i don't feel like writeing as i was taken sick last night from something i eat and who wouldn't be sick jammed in a room like a sardine. i had a kind of a run in with hall because he tried to kid me about being sick with some of his funny stuff but i told him where to head in. he started out by saying to lee that jack tar looked like somebody had knocked the tar out of him and after a while he says "what's the matter with the old salt tonight he don't seem to have no pepper with him." so i told him to shut up. well we didn't have no french lesson on acct. of me being taken sick but we are going to have a lesson tonight and pretty soon i am going up and try and eat something and i hope they don't try and hand me no more of that canned beans or whatever it was that effected me and if uncle sam wants his boys to go over there and put up a battle he shouldn't try and poison them first. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 21._ friend al: well al i was talking to one of the sailors named doran to-day and he says in a day or 2 more we would be right in the danger zone where all the subs hangs out and then would come the fun and we would probably all have to keep our clothes on all night and keep our life belts on and i asked him if they was much danger with all them convoys guarding us and he says the subs might fire a periscope right between two of the convoys and hit our ship and maybe the convoys might get them afterwards but then it would be to late. he said the last time he come over with troops they was two subs got after this ship and they shot two periscopes at this ship and just missed it and they seem to be laying for this ship because its one of the biggest and fastest the u. s. has got. well i told doran it wouldn't bother me to keep my clothes on all night because i all ready been keeping them on all night because when you have got a state room like ours they's only one place where they's room for a man's clothes and that's on you. well old pal they's a whole lot of difference between learning something from somebody that knows what they are talking about and visa versa. i and lee and smith got together in the room last night and we wasn't at it more than an hour but i learned more then all the time i took lessons from that 4 flusher out to camp grant because smith don't waist no time with a lot of junk about grammer but i or lee would ask him what was the french for so and so and he would tell us and we would write it down and say it over till we had it down pat and i bet we could pretty near order a meal now without no help from some of these smart alex that claims they can talk all the languages in the world. in the 1st. place they's a whole lot of words in french that they's no difference you might say between them from the way we say it like beef steak and beer because lee asked him if suppose we went in somewheres and wanted a steak and bread and butter and beer and the french for and is und so we would say beef steak und brot mit butter schmieren und bier and that's all they is to it and i can say that without looking at the paper where we wrote it down and you can see i have got that much learned all ready so i wouldn't starve and when you want to call a waiter you call him kellner so you see i could go in a place in paris and call a waiter and get everything i wanted. well al i bet nobody ever learned that much in i hour off that bird out to camp grant and i'll say its some speed. we are going to have another lesson tonight but lee says we don't want to try and learn to, much at once or we will forget what we all ready learned and they's a good deal to that al. well al its time for chow again so lebe wohl and that's the same like good by in french. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 22._ friend al: well al we are in what they call the danger zone and they's some excitement these days and at night to because they don't many of the boys go to sleep nights and they go to their rooms and pretend like they are going to sleep but i bet you wouldn't need no alarm clock to make them jump out of bed. most of the boys stays out on deck most of the time and i been staying out there myself most all day today not because i am scared of anything because i always figure if its going to happen its going to happen but i stay out because it ain't near as cold as it was and besides if something is comeing off i don't want to miss it. besides maybe i could help out some way if something did happen. last night we was all out on deck in the dark talking about this and that and one of the boys i was standing along side of him made the remark that we had been out nine days and he didn't see no france yet or no signs of getting there so i said no wonder when we had such a he--ll of a censor ship and some other guy heard me say it so he said i better not talk like that but i didn't mean it like that but only how slow it was. well we are getting along o. k. with the french lessons and bob lee told me last night that he run across one of the two french officers that's on the ship and he thought he would try some of his french on him so he said something about it being a nice day in french and the frenchman was tickled to death and smiled and bowed at him and i guess i will try it out on them the next time i see them. well al that shows we been learning something when the frenchmans themself know what we are talking about and i and lee will have the laugh on the rest of the boys when we get there that is if we do get there but for some reason another i have got a hunch that we won't never see france and i can't explain why but once in a while a man gets a hunch and a lot of times they are generally always right. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 23._ friend al: well al i was just out on deck with lee and sargent bishop and bishop is a sargent in our co. and he said he had just came from capt. seeley and capt. seeley told him to tell all the n. c. o. officers like sargents and corporals that if a sub got us we was to leave the privates get into the boats first before we got in and we wasn't to get into our boats till all the privates was safe in the boats because we would probably be cooler and not get all excited like the privates. so you see al if something does happen us birds will have to take things in hand you might say and we will have to stick on the job and not think about ourselfs till everybody else is taken care of. well lee said that doran one of the sailors told him something on the quiet that didn't never get into the newspapers and that was about one of the trips that come off in december and it seems like a whole fleet of subs got on to it that some transports was comeing so they layed for them and they shot a periscope at one of the transports and hit it square in the middle and it begun to sink right away and it looked like they wouldn't nobody get into the boats but the sargents and corporals was as cool as if nothing was comeing off and they quieted the soldiers down and finely got them into the boats and the n. c. o. officers was so cool and done so well that when gen. pershing heard about it he made this rule about the n. c. o. officer always waiting till the last so they could kind of handle things. but doran also told lee that they was some men sunk with the ship and they was all n. c. o. officers except one sailor and of course the ship sunk so quick that some of the corporals and sargents didn't have no time to get off on acct. of haveing to wait till the last. so you see that when you read the newspapers you don't get all the dope because they don't tell the reporters only what they feel like telling them. well al i guess i told you all ready about me haveing this hunch that i wouldn't never see france and i guess it looks now more then ever like my hunch was right because if we get hit i will have to kind of look out for the boys that's in my boat and not think about myself till everybody else is o. k. and doran says if this ship ever does get hit it will sink quick because its so big and heavy and of course the heavier a ship is it will sink all the sooner and doran says he knows they are laying for us because he has made five trips over and back on this ship and he never was on a trip when a sub didn't get after them. well i will close for this time because i am not feeling very good al and it isn't nothing i eat or like that but its just i feel kind of faint like i use to sometimes when i would pitch a tough game in st. louis when it was hot or something. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 23._ friend al: well i all ready wrote you one letter today but i kind of feel like i better write to you again because any minute we are libel to hear a bang against the side of the boat and you know what that means and i have got a hunch that i won't never get off of the ship alive but will go down with her because i wouldn't never leave the ship as long as they was anybody left on her rules or no rules but i would stay and help out till every man was off and then of course it would be to late but any way i would go down feeling like i had done my duty. well al when a man has got a hunch like that he would be a sucker to not pay no tension to it and that is why i am writeing to you again because i got some things i want to say before the end. now old pal i know that florrie hasn't never warmed up towards you and bertha and wouldn't never go down to bedford with me and pay you a visit and every time i ever give her a hint that i would like to have you and bertha come up and see us she always had some excuse that she was going to be busy or this and that and of course i knew she was trying to alibi herself and the truth was she always felt like bertha and her wouldn't have nothing in common you might say because florrie has always been a swell dresser and cared a whole lot about how she looked and some way she felt like bertha wouldn't feel comfortable around where she was at and maybe she was right but we can forget all that now al and i can say one thing al she never said nothing reflecting on you yourself in any way because i wouldn't of stood for it but instead of that when i showed her that picture of you and bertha in your wedding suit she made the remark that you looked like one of the honest homely kind of people that their friends could always depend on them. well al when she said that she hit the nail on the head and i always knew you was the one pal who i could depend on and i am depending on you now and i know that if i am laying down at the bottom of the ocean tonight you will see that my wishs in this letter is carried out to the letter. what i want to say is about florrie and little al. now don't think al that i am going to ask you for financial assistants because i would know better then that and besides we don't need it on acct. of me having $10000 dollars soldier insurence in florrie's name as the benefitter and the way she is coining money in that beauty parlor she won't need to touch my insurence but save it for little al for a rainy day only i suppose that the minute she gets her hands on it she will blow it for widows weeds and i bet they will be some weeds al and everybody will think they are flowers instead of weeds. but what i am getting at is that she won't need no money because with what i leave her and what she can make she has got enough and more then enough but i often say that money isn't the only thing in this world and they's a whole lot of things pretty near as good and one of them is kindness and what i am asking from you and bertha is to drop in on her once in a while up in chi and pay her a visit and i have all ready wrote her a letter telling her to ask you but even if she don't ask you go and see her any way and see how she is getting along and if she is takeing good care of the kid or leaving him with the swede nurse all the while. between you and i al what i am scared of most is that florrie's mind will be effected if anything happens to me and without knowing what she was doing she would probably take the first man that asked her and believe me she is not the kind that would have to wait around on no st. corner to catch somebody's eye but they would follow her around and nag at her till she married them and i would feel like he--ll over it because florrie is the kind of a girl that has got to be handled right and not only that but what would become of little al with some horse dr. for a father in law and probably this bird would treat him like a dog and beat him up either that or make a sissy out of him. well al old pal i know you will do like i ask and go and see her and maybe you better go alone but if you do take bertha along i guess it would be better and not let bertha say nothing to her because florrie is the kind that flare up easy and specially when they think they are a little better then somebody. but if you could just drop her a hint and say that she should ought to be proud to be a widow to a husband that died for uncle sam and she ought to live for my memory and for little al and try and make him as much like i as possible i believe it would make her think and any way i want you to do it for me old pal. well good by old pal and i wished i could leave some thing to you and bertha and believe me i would if i had ever known this was comeing off this way though of course i figured right along that i wouldn't last long in france because what chance has a corporal got? but i figured i would make some arrangements for a little present for you and bertha as soon as i got to france but of course it looks now like i wouldn't never get there and all the money i have got is tied up so its to late to think of that and all as i can say is good luck to you and bertha and everybody in bedford and i hope they will be proud of me and remember i done my best and i often say what more can a man do then that? well al i will say good by again and good luck and now have got to quit and go to chow. your pal to the last, jack keefe. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 24._ friend al: well this has been some day and wait till you hear about it and hear what come off and some of the birds on this ship took me for a sucker and tried to make a rummy out of me but i was wise to their game and i guess the shoe is on the other foot this time. well it was early this a. m. and i couldn't sleep and i was up on deck and along come one of them french officers that's been on board all the way over. well i thought i would try myself out on him like lee said he done so i give him a salute and i said to him "schones tag nicht wahr." like you would say its a beautiful day only i thought i was saying it in french but wait till you hear about it al. well al they ain't nobody in the world fast enough to of caught what he said back to me and i won't never know what he said but i won't never forget how he looked at me and when i took one look at him i seen we wasn't going to get along very good so i turned around and started up the deck. well he must of flagged the first man he seen and sent him after me and it was a 2d. lieut. and he come running up to me and stopped me and asked me what was my name and what co. and etc. and at first i was going to stall and then i thought i better not so i told him who i was and he left me go. well i didn't know then what was comeing off so i just layed low and i didn't have to wait around long and all of a sudden a bird from the colonel's staff found me in the parlor and says i was wanted right away and when i got to this room there was the col. and the two frenchmans and my captain capt. seeley and a couple others so i saluted and i can't tell you exactly what come off because i can't remember all what the colonel said but it was something like this. in the first place he says "corporal keefe they's some little matters that you have got to explain and we was going to pass them up first on the grounds that capt. seeley said you probably didn't know no better but this thing that come off this a. m. can't be explained by ignorants." so then he says "it was reported that you was standing on deck the night before last and you made the remark that we had a he--ll of a censor ship." and he says "what did you mean by that?" so you see al this smart alex of a lee had told me they called the first ship the censor ship and i believed him at first because i was thinking about something else or of course i never would of believed him because the censor ship isn't no ship like this kind of a ship but means something else. so i explained about that and i seen capt. seeley kind of crack a smile so then i knew i was o. k. so then he pulled it on me about speaking to capt. somebody of the french army in the german language and of course they was only one answer to that and you see the way it was al all the time smith was pretending to learn us french he was learning us german and lee put him up to it but when the colonel asked me what i meant by doing such a thing as talk german why of course i knew in a minute that they had been trying to kid me but at first i told the colonel i couldn't of said no german because i don't know no more german than silk o'loughlin. well the frenchman was pretty sore and i don't know what would of came off only for capt. seeley and he spoke up and said to the colonel that if he could have a few minutes to investigate he thought he could clear things up because he figured i hadn't intended to do nothing wrong and somebody had probably been playing jokes. so capt. seeley went out and it seemed like a couple of yrs. till he came back and he had smith and lee and doran with him. so then them 3 birds was up on the carpet and i'll say they got some panning and when it was all over the colonel said something about they being a dam site to much kidding back and fourth going on and he hoped that before long we would find out that this war wasn't no practicle joke and he give lee and smith a fierce balling out and he said he would leave capt. seeley to deal with them and he would report doran to the proper quarters and then he was back on me again and he said it looked like i had been the innocent victim of a practicle joke but he says "you are so dam innocent that i figure you are temperately unfit to hold on to a corporal's warrant so you can consider yourself reduced to the ranks. we can't have no corporals that if some comedian told them the germans was now one of our allies they would try and get in the german trenches and shake hands with them." well al when it was all over i couldn't hardly keep from laughing because you see i come out of it o. k. and the laugh was on smith and lee and doran because i got just what i wanted because i never did want to be a corporal because it meant i couldn't pal around with the boys and be their pals and i never felt right when i was giveing them orders because i would rather be just one of them and make them feel like we were all equals. of course they wasn't no time on the whole trip when lee or doran or smith either one of them had me fooled because just to look at them you would know they are the kind of smart alex that's always trying to put something over on somebody only i figured two could play at that game as good as one and i would kid them right back and give them as good as they sent because i always figure that the game ain't over till the ninth inning and the man that does the laughing then has got all the best of it. but at that i don't bear no bad will towards neither one of them and i have got a good notion to ask capt. seeley to let them off easy. well al this is a long letter but i wanted you to know i wasn't no corporal no more and if a sub hits us now al i can hop into a boat as quick as i feel like it but jokeing a side if something like that happened it wouldn't make no difference to me if i was a corporal or not a corporal because i am a man and i would do my best and help the rest of the boys get into the boats before i thought about myself. your pal, jack. * * * * * _on the ship board, jan. 25._ friend al: well old pal just a line to let you know we are out of the danger zone and pretty near in port and i can't tell you where we land at but everybody is hollering and the band's playing and i guess the boys feels a whole lot better then when we was out there where the subs could get at us but between you and i al i never thought about the subs all the way over only when i heard somebody else talk about them because i always figure that if they's some danger of that kind the best way to do is just forget it and if its going to happen all right but what's the use of worrying about it? but i suppose lots of people is built different and they have just got to worry all the while and they get scared stiff just thinking about what might happen but i always say nobody ever got fat worrying so why not just forget it and take things as they come. well old pal they's to many sights to see so i will quit for this time. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, jan. 26._ friend al: well old pal here we are and its against the rules to tell you where we are at but of course it don't take no shylock to find out because all you would have to do is look at the post mark that they will put on this letter. any way you couldn't pronounce what the town's name is if you seen it spelled out because it isn't nothing like how its spelled out and you won't catch me trying to pronounce none of these names or talk french because i am off of languages for a while and good old american is good enough for me eh al? well al now that its all over i guess we was pretty lucky to get across the old pond without no trouble because between you and i al i heard just a little while ago from one of the boys that three nights ago we was attacked and our ship just missed getting hit by a periscope and the destroyers went after the subs and they was a whole flock of them and the reason we didn't hear nothing is that the death bombs don't go off till they are way under water so you can't hear them but between you and i al the navy men say they was nine subs sank. well i didn't say nothing about it to the man who tipped me off but i had a hunch that night that something was going on and i don't remember now if it was something i heard or what it was but i knew they was something in the air and i was expecting every minute that the signal would come for us to take to the boats but they wasn't no necessity of that because the destroyers worked so fast and besides they say they don't never give no alarm till the last minute because they don't want to get everybody up at night for nothing. well any way its all over now and here we are and you ought to of heard the people in the town here cheer us when we come in and you ought to see how the girls look at us and believe me al they are some girls. its a good thing i am an old married man or i believe i would pretty near be tempted to flirt back with some of the ones that's been trying to get my eye but the way it is i just give them a smile and pass on and they's no harm in that and i figure a man always ought to give other people as much pleasure as you can as long as it don't harm nobody. well al everybody's busier then a chicken with their head off and i haven't got no more time to write. but when we get to where we are going i will have time maybe and tell you how we are getting along and if you want drop me a line and i wish you would send me the chi papers once in a while especially when the baseball training trips starts but maybe they won't be no jack keefe to send them to by that time but if they do get me i will die fighting. you know me al. your pal, jack. chapter ii private valentine _somewheres in france, feb. 2._ friend al: well al here i am only i can't tell you where its at because the censor rubs it out when you put down the name of a town and besides that even if i was to write out where we are at you wouldn't have no idear where its at because how you spell them hasn't nothing to do with their name if you tried to say it. for inst. they's a town a little ways from us that when you say it its lucy like a gal or something but when you come to spell it out its loucey like something else. well al any way this is where they have got us staying till we get called up to the front and i can't hardly wait till that comes off and some say it may be tomorrow and others say we are libel to be here a yr. well i hope they are wrong because i would rather live in the trenches then one of these billets where they got us and between you and i al its nothing more then a barn. just think of a man like i al thats been use to nothing only the best hotels in the big league and now they got me staying in a barn like i was a horse or something and i use to think i was cold when they had us sleeping with imaginery blankets out to camp grant but i would prespire if i was there now after this and when we get through here they can send us up to the north pole in our undershirt and we would half to keep moping the sweat off of our forehead and set under a electric fan to keep from sweltering. well they have got us pegged as horses all right not only because they give us a barn to live in but also from the way they sent us here from where we landed at in france and we made the trip in cattle cars and 1 of the boys says they must of got us mixed up with the calvary or something. it certainly was some experience to be rideing on one of these french trains for a man that went back and fourth to the different towns in the big league and back in a special pullman and sometimes 2 of them so as we could all have lower births. well we didn't have no births on the french r. r. and it wouldn't of done us no good to of had them because you wouldn't no sooner dose off when the engine would let off a screem that sounded like a woman that seen a snake and 1 of the boys says that on acct. of all the men being in the army they had women doing the men's work and judgeing by the noise they even had them whistleing for the crossings. well we finely got here any way and they signed us to our different billets and they's 20 of us in this one not counting a couple of pigs and god knows how many rats and a cow that mews all night. we haven't done nothing yet only look around but monday we go to work out to the training grounds and they say we won't only half to march 12 miles through the mud and snow to get there. mean time we set and look out the cracks onto main st. and every little wile they's a co. of pollutes marchs through or a train of motor lauras takeing stuff up to the front or bringing guys back that didn't duck quick enough and to see these frenchmens march you would think it was fun but when they have been at it a wile they will loose some of their pep. well its warmer in bed then setting here writeing so i will close for this time. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 4._ friend al: well al i am writeing this in the y. m. c. a. hut where they try and keep it warm and all the boys that can crowd in spends most of their spare time here but we don't have much spare time at that because its always one thing another and i guess its just as well they keep us busy because every time they find out you are not doing nothing they begin vaxinating everybody. they's enough noise in here so as a man can't hear yourself think let alone writeing a letter so if i make mistakes in spelling and etc. in this letter you will know why it is. they are singing the song now about the baby's prayer at twilight where the little girl is supposed to be praying for her daddy that's a soldier to take care of himself but if she was here now she would be praying for him to shut up his noise. well we was in the trenchs all day not the regular ones but the ones they got for us to train in them and they was a bunch of french officers trying to learn us how to do this in that and etc. and some of the time you could all most understand what they was trying to tell you and then it was stuff we learnt the first wk. out to camp grant and i suppose when they get so as they can speak a few words of english they will tell us we ought to stand up when we hear the star spangle banner. well we was a pretty sight when we got back with the mud and slush and everything and by the time they get ready to call us into action they will half to page us in the morgue. about every 2 or 3 miles today we would pass through a town where some of the rest of the boys has got their billets only they don't call it miles in france because that's to easy to say but instead of miles they call them kilometts. but any way from the number of jerk water burgs we went through you would think we was on the monon and the towns all looks so much like the other that when one of the french soldiers gets a few days leave off they half to spend most of it looking for land marks so as they will know if they are where they live. and they couldn't even be sure if it was warm weather and their folks was standing out in front of the house because all the familys is just alike with the old mr. and the mrs. and pigs and a cow and a dog. well al they say its pretty quite these days up to the front and the boys that's been around here a wile says you can hear the guns when they's something doing and the wind blows this way but we haven't heard no guns yet only our own out to where we have riffle practice but everybody says as soon as spring comes and the weather warms up the germans is sure to start something. well i don't care if they start anything or not just so the weather warms up and besides they won't never finish what they start unless they start going back home and they won't even finish that unless they show a whole lot more speed then they did comeing. they are just trying to throw a scare into somebody with a lot of junk about a big drive they are going to make but i have seen birds come up to hit in baseball al that was going to drive it out of the park but their drive turned out to be a hump back liner to the pitcher. i remember once when speaker come up with a couple men on and we was 2 runs ahead in the 9th. inning and he says to me "well busher here is where i hit one a mile." well al he hit one a mile all right but it was 1/2 a mile up and the other 1/2 a mile down and that's the way it goes with them gabby guys and its the same way with the germans and they talk all the time so as they will get thirsty and that's how they like to be. speaking about thirsty al its different over here then at home because when a man in uniform wants a drink over here you don't half to hire no room in a hotel and put on your nightgown but you can get it here in your uniform only what they call beer here we would pore it on our wheat cakes at home and they got 2 kinds of wine red and white that you could climb outside of a bbl. of it without asking the head waiter to have them play the rosery. but they say the champagne is o. k. and i am going to tackle it when i get a chance and you may think from that that i have got jack to throw away but over here al is where they make the champagne and you can get a qt. of it for about a buck or 1/2 what you would pay for it in the u. s. and besides that the money they got here is a frank instead of a dollar and a frank isn't only worth about $.19 cents so a man can have a whole lot better time here and not cost him near as much. and another place where the people in france has got it on the americans and that is that when they write a letter here they don't half to pay nothing to mail it but when you write to me you have got to stick a 5 cent stamp on it but judgeing by the way you answer my letters the war will be all over before you half to break a dime. of course i am just jokeing al and i know why you don't write much because you haven't got nothing to write staying there in bedford and you could take a post card and tell me all the news that happened in 10 yrs. and still have room enough yet to say bertha sends kind regards. but of course its different with a man like i because i am always where they is something big going on and first it was baseball and now its a bigger game yet you might say but whatever is going on big you can always count on me being in the mist of it and not buried alive in no indiana x roads where they still think the first bounce is out. but of course i know it is not your fault that you haven't been around and seen more and it ain't every man that can get away from a small town and make a name for themself and i suppose i ought to consider myself lucky. well al enough for this time and i will write soon again and i would like to hear from you even if you haven't nothing to say and don't forget to send me a chi paper when you get a hold of one and i asked florrie to send me one every day but asking her for favors is like rolling off a duck's back you might say and its first in one ear and then the other. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 7._ friend al: i suppose you have read articles in the papers about the war that's wrote over here by reporters and the way they do it is they find out something and then write it up and send it by cablegrams to their papers and then they print it and that's what you read in the papers. well al they's a whole flock of these here reporters over here and i guess they's one for every big paper in the u. s. and they all wear bands around their sleeves with a c on them for civilian or something so as you can spot them comeing and keep your mouth shut. well they have got their head quarters in one of the towns along the line but they ride all over the camp in automobiles and this evening i was outside of our billet and one of them come along and seen me and got out of his car and come up to me and asked if i wasn't jack keefe the white sox pitcher. well al he writes for one of the chi papers and of course he knows all about me and has seen me work. well he asked me a lot of questions about this in that and i didn't give him no military secrets but he asked me how did i like the army game and etc. i asked him if he was going to mention about me being here in the paper and he says the censors wouldn't stand for mentioning no names until you get killed because if they mentioned your name the germans would know who all was here but after you are dead the germans don't care if you had been here or not. but he says he would put it in the paper that he was talking to a man that use to be a star pitcher on the white sox and he says everybody would know who it was he was talking about because they wasn't such a slue of star pitchers in the army that it would take a civil service detective to find out who he meant. so we talked along and finely he asked me was i going to write a book about the war and i said no and he says all right he would tell the paper that he had ran across a soldier that not only use to be a ball player but wasn't going to write a book and they would make a big story out of it. so i said i wouldn't know how to go about it to write a book but when i went around the world with the 2 ball clubs that time i use to write some poultry once in a wile just for different occasions like where the boys was called on for a speech or something and they didn't know what to say so i would make up one of my poems and the people would go nuts over them. so he said why didn't i tear off a few patriotic poems now and slip them to him and he would send them to his paper and they would print them and maybe if some of them was good enough somebody would set down and write a song to them and probably everybody would want to buy it and sing it like over there and i would clean up a good peace of jack. well al i told him i would see if i could think up something to write and of course i was just stalling him because a soldier has got something better to do than write songs and i will leave that to the birds that was gun shy and stayed home. but if you see in the chi papers where one of the reporters was talking to a soldier that use to be a star pitcher in the american league or something you will know who they mean. he said he would drop by in a few days again and see if i had something wrote up for him but i will half to tell him i have been to busy to monkey with it. as far as i can see they's enough songs all ready wrote up about the war so as everybody in the army and navy could have 1 a peace and still have a few left over for the boshs and that's a name we got up for the germans al and instead of calling them germans we call them boshs on acct. of them being so full of bunk. well al one of the burgs along the line is where jonah vark was born when she was alive. it seems like france was mixed up in another war along about a 100 yrs. ago and they was getting licked and jonah was just a young gal but she dressed up in men's coat and pants and went up to the front and led the charges with a horse and she carried a white flag and the dutchmens or whoever they was fighting against must of thought it was a flag of truants and any way they didn't fire at them and the french captured new orleans and win the war. the germans is trying to pull the same stuff on our boys now and lots of times they run up and holler conrad like they was going to give up and when your back is turned they whang away at you but they won't pull none of that stuff on me and when one of them trys to conrad me i will perculate them with a bayonet. well al the boys is starting their choir practice and its good night and some times i wished i was a deef and dumb mute and couldn't hear nothing. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 9._ friend al: well al i didn't have nothing to do last night and i happened to think about that reporter and how he would be comeing along in a few days asking for that poultry. i figured i might as well set down and write him up a couple verses because them fellows is hard up for articles to send their paper because in the first place we don't tell them nothing so they could write it up and when they write it the censors smeers out everything but the question marks and dots but of course they would leave them send poems because the germans couldn't make head or tale out of them. so any way i set down and tore off 3 verses and he says they ought to be something about a gal in it so here is what i wrote: _near a year ago today pres. wilson of the u. s. a. had something to say, "germany you better keep away this is no time for play." when it come time to go america was not slow each one said good by to their girl so dear and some of them has been over here since last year._ _i will come home when the war is over back to the u. s. a. so don't worry little girlie and now we are going to berlin and when we the kaiser skin and the war we will win and make the kaiser jump out of his skin._ _the ones that stays at home can subscribe to the liberty loan and some day we will come home to the girles that's left alone old kaiser bill is up against it for all are doing their bit. pres. wilson says the stars and stripes will always fight for their rights._ that's what i tore off and when he comes around again i will have it for him and if you see it in the chi papers you will know who wrote it up and maybe somebody will write a song to it but of course they can't sign my name to it unless i get killed or something but i guess at that they ain't so many soldiers over here that can turn out stuff like that but what my friends won't be pretty sure who wrote it. but if something does happen to me i wished you would kind of keep your eyes pealed and if the song comes out try and see that florrie gets some jack out of it and i haven't wrote nothing to her about it because she is like all other wifes and when somebodys else husband pulls something its o. k. but if their own husband does it he must of had a snoot full. well today was so rotten that they didn't make us go nowheres and i'll say its got to be pretty rotten when they do that and the meal they give us tonight wouldn't of bulged out a grandaddy long legs and i and my buddy frank carson was both hungry after we eat and i suppose you will wonder what do i mean by buddy. well al that's a name i got up for who ever you pal around with or bunk next to them and now everybody calls their pal their buddy. well any way he says why didn't we go over to the red x canteen resturent and buy ourself a feed so we went over and its a little shack where the red x serves you a pretty good meal for 1 frank and that's about $.19 cents and they don't try and make no profits on it but just run them so as a man don't half to go along all the wile on what the army hands out to you. well they was 3 janes on the job over there and 2 of them would be safe anywheres you put them but the other one is class a and her old woman must of been pie eyed when she left her come over here. well carson said she belonged to him because he had seen her before and besides i was a married man so i says all right go ahead and get her. well al it would be like terre haute going after george sisler or somebody and the minute we blowed in she didn't have eyes for only me but i wasn't going to give her no encouragement because we were here to kill germans and not ladys but i wished you could of seen the smile she give me. well she's just as much a american as i or you but of course carson had to be cute and try to pull some of his french on her so he says bon soir madam moselle and that is the same like we would say good evening but when carson pulled it i spoke up and said "if your bones is soir why don't you go and take the baths somewhere?" pretending like i thought he meant his bones were sore. well the little lady got it o. k. and pretty near laughed outright. you see al when a person has got rhuematism they go and take the baths like down to mudlavia so i meant if his bones was sore he better go somewheres like that. so the little lady tried to not laugh on acct. of me being a stranger but she couldn't hardly help from busting out and then i smiled at her back and after that carson might as well of been mowing the lawn out in nobody's land. i felt kind of sorry the way things broke because here he is a man without no home ties and of course i have all ready got a wife but miss moselle didn't have no eyes for him and that's the way it goes but what can a man do and carson seen how it was going and says to me right in front of her "have you heard from your mrs. since we been over?" and i didn't dast look up and see how she took it. well they set us up a pretty good feed and the little lady kept asking us questions like how long had we been here and what part of the u. s. we come from and etc. and finely carson told her who i was and she popped her eyes out and says she use to go to the ball games once in a wile in n. y. city with her old man and she didn't never think she would meet a big league pitcher and talk to them and she says she wondered if she ever seen me pitch. well i guess if she had she would remember it specially in n. y. because there was one club i always made them look like a fool and they wasn't the only club at that and i guess they's about 6 other clubs in the american league that if they had seen my name in the dead they wouldn't shed off enough tears to gum up the infield. well when we come out she asked us would we come again and we said yes but i guess its best for both she and i if i stay away but i said we would come again to be polite so she said au revoir and that's like you would say so long so i said au reservoir pretending like i didn't know the right way to say it but she seen i was just kidding and laughed and she is the kind of a gal that gets everything you pull and bright as a whip and her and i would make a good team but of course they's no use talking about it the way i am tied up so even when i'm sick in tired of the regular rations i won't dast go over there for a feed because it couldn't do nothing only harm to the both of us and the best way to do with those kind of affairs is to cut it out before somebody gets hurt. well its time to hop into the feathers and i only wished it was feathers but feathers comes off a chicken or something and i guess these matteresses we got is made out to gary or indiana harbor or somewheres. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 11._ friend al: well al they's several of the boys that won't need no motor laura to carry their pay for the next couple mos. and if you was to mention champagne to them they would ask for a barrage. i was over to the y. m. c. a. hut last night and when i come back i wished you could of seen my buddys and they was 2 of them that was still able to talk yet and they was haveing a argument because one of them wanted to pore some champagne in a dish so as the rats would get stewed and the other bird was trying to not let him because he said it always made them mean and they would go home and beat up their mrs. it seems like one of the boys had a birthday and his folks is well off and they had sent him some jack from the states to buy blankets and etc. with it and he thought it would be a sucker play to load up with bed close when spring was comeing so he loaded up with something else and some of the boys with him and for 50 or 60 franks over here you can get enough champagne to keep the dust layed all summer and of course some of the boys hadn't never tasted it before and they thought you could bathe in it like beer. they didn't pay no more tension to revelry this a. m. then if they was a corps and most of them was at that and out of the whole bunch of us they was only 7 that didn't get reported and the others got soaked 2 thirds of their pay and confined to their quarters and capt. seeley says if they was any more birthdays in his co. we wouldn't wind the celebration up till sunrise and then it would be in front of a fireing squad. well al if the boys can't handle it no better then that they better leave it alone and just because its cheap that's no reason to try and get it all at once because the grapes will still be growing over here yet when all us birds takes our teeth off at night with our other close. well al the reporter that asked me to write up the verses ain't been around since and probably he has went up to the front or somewheres and i am glad of it and i hope he forgets all about it because in the first place i am not one of the kind that is crazy to get in the papers and besides i am to busy to be monking with stuff like that. yes they keep us on the jump all the wile and we are pretty well wore out when night comes around but a man wouldn't mind it if we was learning something but the way it is now its like as if we had graduated from college and then they sent us to kindegarden and outside of maybe a few skulls the whole regt. is ready right now to get up there in the trenches and show them something and i only wished we was going tomorrow but i guess some of the boys would like it to never go up there but would rather stay here in this burg and think they was haveing a good time kidding with the french gals and etc. but that's no business for a married man and even if i didn't have no family the french gals i seen so far wouldn't half to shew me away and i been hearing all my life what swell dressers they was but a scout for the follys wouldn't waist no time in this burg. but i'm sick in tired of the same thing day in and day out and here we been in france 2 wks. and all we done is a little riffle practice and stuff we had back home and get soping wet every day and no mail and i wouldn't wonder if florrie and little al had forgot all about me and if secty. daniels wired them that jack keefe had been killed they would say who and the hell is he. so all and all they can't send us up to the front to quick and it seems like a shame that men like i should be held back just because they's a few birds in the regt. that can't put on a gas mask yet without triping themself up. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 13._ friend al: well al wait till you hear this and i bet you will pop your eyes out. i guess i all ready told you about miss moselle the little lady over to the red x canteen. well i was over there the day before yesterday and she wasn't around nowheres and i was glad of it because i didn't want to see her and just dropped in there to get something to eat and today i was in there again and this time she was there and she smiled when she seen me and come up and begin talking and she asked me how i liked it and i said i would like it a whole lot better if we was in the fighting and she asked me if i didn't like this town and i said well no i wasn't nuts about it and she said she didn't think i was very complementary so then i seen she wanted to get personal. well al she knows i am a married man because carson just as good as told her so i didn't see no harm in kidding her along a wile so i give her a smile and said well you know the whole town ain't like you and she blushed up and says "well i didn't expect nothing like that from a great baseball pitcher" so you see al she had been makeing inquirys about me. so i said "well they was only one pitcher i ever heard of that couldn't talk and that was dummy taylor but at that they's a whole lot of them that if they couldn't say my arm's sore they might as well be tongue tied." but i told her i wasn't one of those kind and i guest when it came to talking i could give as good as i sent and she asked me was i a college man and i kidded her along and said yes i went to harvard and she said what year so i told her i was there 2 different yrs. and we talked along about this in that and i happened to have them verses in my pocket that i wrote up and they dropped out when i was after my pocket book and she acted like she wanted to know what the writeing was so i showed them to her. well al i wished you could of seen how supprised she was when she read them and she says "so you are a poet." so i said "yes i am a poet and don't know it" so that made her laugh and i told her about the reporter asking me to write some poems and then she asked me if she could keep a hold of those ones till she made out a copy of them to keep for herself and i said "you can keep that copy and pretend like i was thinking of you when i wrote them." well al i wished you could of seen her then and she couldn't say nothing at first but finely she says tomorrow was valentine day and the verses would do for a valentine so just jokeing i asked her if she wouldn't rather have a comical valentine and she says those ones would do o. k. so then i told her i would write her a real valentine for herself but i might maybe not get it ready in time to give her tomorrow and she says she realized it took time and any time would do. well of course i am not going to write up nothing for her and after this i will keep away from the canteen because it isn't right to leave her see to much of me even if she does know i am married but if i do write her something i will make it comical and no mushy stuff in it. but it does seem like fate or something that the harder i try and not get mixed up in a flirtation i can't turn around you might say but what they's some gal poping up on my trail and if it was anybody else only miss moselle i wouldn't mind but she is a darb and i wouldn't do nothing to hurt her for the world but they can't nobody say this is my fault. well al i pretty near forgot to tell you that the boys is putting on a entertainment over to the y. m. c. a. saturday night and they will be singing and gags and etc. and they asked me would i give them a little talk on baseball and i said no at first but they begged me and finely i give my consent but you know how i hate makeing speeches and etc. but a man don't hardly feel like refuseing when they want me so bad so i am going to give them a little talk on my experiences and make it comical and i will tell you about the entertainment when its over. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 15._ friend al: well al i just been over to the canteen and i give the little lady the valentine i promised to write up for her and i wasn't going to write it up only i happened to remember that i promised so i wrote something up and i was going to make it comical but i figured that would disappoint her on acct. of the way she feels towards me so here is what i wrote up. _to miss moselle_ (_private_) _a soldier don't have much time to set down and write up a valentine but please bear in mind that i think about you many a time and i wished i could call you mine and i hope they will come a time when i will have more time and then everything will be fine and if you will be my valentine i will try and show you a good time._ well after i had wrote it i thought i better have it fixed up like a valentine and they's one of the boys in our co. named stoops that use to be a artist so i had him draw me a couple of hearts with a bow and arrow sticking through them and a few flowers on a peace of card board and i coppied off the valentine on the card in printing and stuck it in a envelope and took it over to her and i didn't wait for her to open it up and look at it and i just says here is that valentine i promised you and its 1 day late and she blushed up and couldn't say nothing and i come away. well al she has read it by this time and i hope she don't take nothing i said serious but of course she knows i am a married man and she can read between the lines and see where i am trying to let her down easy and telling her to not expect no more tensions from me and its just like saying good by to her in a way only not as rough as comeing right out and saying it. but i won't see her no more and its all over before it begun you might say. well we passed some german prisoners today and believe me we give them a ride. everybody called them heinie and fritz and i seen one of them giveing me a look like he was wondring if all the u. s. soldiers was big stroppers like i but i stuck out my tongue at him and said "what do you think you are looking at you big pretzel" and he didn't dast say nothing back. well they was a fine looking gang and they's been a lot of storys going the rounds about no soap in germany. well al its all true. well i finely got a letter from florrie that is if you could call it a letter and to read it you wouldn't never guess that she had a husband over here in france and maybe never see him again but you would think i had went across the st. to get a bottle of ketchup and all as she said about little al was that he needed a new pair of shoes and they's about as much news in that as if she said he woke up in the night. and the rest of the letter was about how good she was doing in the beauty parlor and for me not to worry about her because she was o. k. only for a callous on her heel and i suppose she will go to the hospital with it and here i am with so many of them that if they was worth a frank a peace i could pay the kaiser's gas bill. and she never asked me did i need anything or how was i getting along. and she enclosed a snapshot of herself in one of these here war bride outfits and she looks so good in it that i bet she goes to church every sunday and asks god to prolongate the war. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 16._ friend al: well al they's a certain bird in this camp that if i ever find out who he is they won't need no tonnages to carry him back when the war's over. let me tell you what come off tonight and what was pulled off on the little lady and i and if you read about me getting in front of the court marshall for murder you will know how it come off. i guess i all ready told you about the show that was comeing off tonight and they asked me to make a little talk on baseball. well they was as many there as could crowd in and the band played and they was singing and gags and storys and etc. and they didn't call on me till pretty near the last. well al you ought to of heard the crowd when i got up there and it sounded like old times to have them all cheering and clapping and i stepped to the front of the platform and give them a bow and it was the first time i was ever on the stage but i wasn't scared only at first. well i had wrote out what i was going to say and learnt the most of it by heart and here is what i give them only i won't give you only part of it because it run pretty long. "gentlemen and friends. i am no speech maker and i guess if i had to make speeches for a liveing i am afraid i couldn't do it but the boys is anxious i should say a few words about baseball and i didn't want to disappoint them. they may be some of you boys that has not followed the great american game very close and maybe don't know who jack keefe is. well gentlemen i was boughten from terre haute in the central league by that grand old roman charley comiskey owner of the chicago white sox in 1913 and i been in the big league ever since except one year i was with frisco and i stood that league on their head and mr. comiskey called me back and i was still starring with the chicago white sox when uncle sam sent out the call for men and i quit the great american game to enlist in the greatest game of all the game we are playing against the kaiser and we will win this game like i have win many a game of baseball because i was to fast for them and used my brains and it will be the same with the kaiser and america will fight to the drop of the hat and make the world safe for democracy." well al i had to stop 2 or 3 minutes while they give me a hand and they clapped and hollered at pretty near everything i said. so i said "this war reminds me a good deal like a incident that happened once when i was pitching against the detroit club. no doubt you gentlemen and officers has heard of the famous hughey jennings and his eeyah and on the detroit club is also the famous tyrus cobb the georgia peach as he is called and i want to pay him a tribute right here and say he is one of the best ball players in the american league and a great hitter if you don't pitch just right to him. one time we was in detroit for a serious of games and we had loose the first two games do to bad pitching and the first game eddie cicotte didn't have nothing and the second game faber was in the same boat so on this morning i refer to manager rowland come up to me in the lobby of the tuller hotel and said how do you feel jack and i said o. k. clarence why do you ask? and he said well we have loose 2 games here and we have got to grab this one this p. m. and if you feel o. k. i will work you because i know you have got them licked as soon as you walk out there. so i said all right clarence you can rely on me. and that p. m. i give them 3 hits and shut them out and cobb come up in the ninth innings with two men on bases and two men out and ray schalk our catcher signed me for a curve ball but i shook my head and give him my floater and the mighty cobb hit that ball on a line to our right fielder eddie murphy and the game was over. "this war is a good deal like baseball gentlemen because it is stratejy that wins and no matter how many soldiers a gen. has got he won't get nowheres without he uses his brains and its the same in baseball and the boys that stays in the big league is the boys that can think and when this war is over i hope to go back and begin where i left off and win a pennant for charley comiskey the old roman in the american league." well al they was a regular storm when i got through and i bowed and give them a smile and started off of the platform but a sargent named avery from our co. stopped me and set me down in a chair and says i was to wait a minute and i thought of course they was going to give me a cup or something though i didn't expect nothing of the kind but i hadn't no sooner set down when sargent avery stepped up to the front of the platform and says "gentlemen i want to say to you that private jack keefe the great stratejest is not only a great pitcher and a great speech maker but he is also a great poet and if you don't believe me i will read you this beautiful valentine that he wrote to a certain lady that we all admire and who was in the red x canteen up till today when she went back to paris to resume other dutys." well before i could make a move he read that crazy valentine and of course they wasn't a word in it that i was serious when i wrote it and it was all a joke with me only not exactly a joke neither because i was really trying to let the little lady down easy and tell her good by between the lines without being rough with it. but of course these boobs pretended like they thought i meant it all and was love sick or something and they hollered like a bunch of indians and clapped and razed he--ll. well al i didn't get a chance to see sargent avery after it was over because he blowed right out but i will see him tomorrow and i will find out from him who stole that poem from miss moselle and i wouldn't be supprised if the reason she blowed to paris was on acct. of missing the poem and figureing some big bum had stole it off her and they would find out her secret and make things misable for her and the chances is that's why she blowed. well wait till i find out who done it and they will be one less snake in this regt. and the sooner you weed those kind of birds out of the army you will get somewheres and if you don't you won't. but the poor little lady al i can't help from feeling sorry for her and i only wished i could go to paris and find her and tell her to not worry though of course its best if she don't see me again but i'm sorry it had to come off this way. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, feb. 18._ friend al: well al this may be the last letter you will ever get from me because i am waiting now to find out what they are going to do with me and i will explain what i mean. yesterday a. m. i seen sargent avery and i asked him if i could talk to him a minute and he says yes and i said i wanted to find out from him who stole that valentine from miss moselle. so he says "who is miss moselle?" so i said "why that little lady in the canteen that's blowed to paris." so he says "well that little lady's name isn't miss moselle but her name is ruth palmer and she is the daughter of one of the richest birds in n. y. city and they wasn't nobody stole no valentine from her because she give the valentine to me before she left." so i said "what do you mean she give it to you?" so he says "i mean she give it to me and when she give it to me she said us birds was in the same co. with a poet and didn't know it and she thought it was about time we was finding it out. so she laughed and give me the valentine and that's the whole story." well al i had a 20 frank note on me and i asked sargent avery if he wouldn't like some champagne and he said no he wouldn't. but that didn't stop me al and i got all i could hold onto and then some and i snuck in last night after lights out and i don't know if anybody was wise or not but if they are its libel to go hard with me and capt. seeley said something about the fireing squad for the next bird that cut loose. well i reported sick this a. m. and they could tell to look at me that it wasn't no stall so i'm here and the rest of the boys is gone and i am waiting for them to summons me before the court marshall. but listen al if they do like capt. seeley said you can bet that before they get me i will get some of these birds that's been calling me private valentine ever since saturday night. your pal, jack. chapter iii stragety and tragedy _somewheres in france, march 2._ _friend al_: well al if it rains a couple more days like its been they will half to page the navy and at that its about time they give them something to do and i don't mean the chasers and destroyers and etc. that acts like convoys for our troop ships and throws them death bombs at the u boats but i mean the big battle ships and i bet you haven't heard of a supper dread 0 doing nothing since we been in the war and they say they can't do nothing till the german navy comes out and that's what they're waiting for. well al that's a good deal like waiting for the 30nd. of feb. or for jennings to send his self up to hit for cobb and they can say all they want about the germans being bullet proof from the neck up but they got some brains and you can bet their navy ain't comeing out no more then my hair. so as far as i can see a man being on a supper dread 0 is just like you owned a private yatch without haveing to pay for the keep up and when they talk about a man on a big u. s. battle ship in danger they mean he might maybe die because he eat to much and no exercise. so if i was them i would send the big ships here so as we could use them for motor lauras and i guess they's no place in our whole camp where you couldn't float them and i don't know how it is all over france but if they was a baseball league between the towns where they have got us billeted the fans would get blear eyed looking at the no game sign and if a mgr. worked their pitchers in turn say it was my turn tomorrow and the next time my turn come around some of little al's kids would half to help me out of the easy chair and say "come on granpa you pitch this afternoon." jokeing a side al if i was running the training camps like camp grant back home instead of starting the men off with the regular drills and hikes like they give them now i would stand them under a shower bath with their close on about 1/2 the time and when it come time for a hike i would send them back and fourth across rock river and back where they wasn't no bridge. and then maybe when they got over here france wouldn't be such a big supprise. one of the boys has put a sign up on our billet and it says noahs ark on it and maybe you have heard that old gag al about the big flood that everybody was drownded only noah and his folks and a married couple of every kind of animals in the world and they wasn't drownded because noah had a ark for them to get in out of the wet. well noahs ark is a good name for our dump and believe me they haven't none of the animals been overlooked and we are also going noah one better and sheltering all the bugs and some of them is dressed in cocky. well i am in this war to the finish and you couldn't hire me to quit till we have ran them ragged but i wished they had of gave us steel helmets wide enough so as they would make a bumber shoot and i hope the next war they have they will pick out arizona to have it there. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 6._ friend al: well al i suppose you have read in the communicates that comes out in the paper where the americans that's all ready in the trenchs has pulled off some great stuff and a whole lot of them has been sighted and give meddles and etc. by the frenchmens for what they have pulled off and the way they work it al when one of the soldiers wrists his life or something and pulls off something big like takeing a mess of prisoners and bringing them back here where they can get something to eat the french pins a meddle on them and sometimes they do it if you don't do nothing but die only then of course they send it to your family so as they will have something to show their friends besides snapshots of mich. city. well we was kidding back and fourth about it today and one of the smart alex in our co. a bird named johnny alcock that is always trying to kid somebody all the time he said to me "well i suppose they will half to build more tonnages to carry all the meddles you will win back to the states." so i said "well i guess i will win as many of them as you will win." that shut him up for a wile but finely he says "you have got enough chest to wear a whole junk shop on it." so i said "well i am not the baby that can't win them." so he says "if you ever happen to be snooping around the bosh trenchs when fritz climbs over the top you will come back so fast that the kaiser will want to know who was that speed merchant that led the charge and decorate you with a iron cross." so i said "i will decorate you right in the eye one of these days." so he had to shut up and all the other boys give him the laugh. well al jokeing to one side if i half to go back home without a meddle it will be because they are playing favorites but i guess i wouldn't be left out at that because i stand ace high with most of the frenchmens around here because they like a man that's always got a smile or a kind word for them and they would like me still better yet if they could understand more english and get my stuff better but it don't seem like they even try to learn and i suppose its because they figure the war is in their country so everybody should ought to talk their language but when you get down to cases they's a big job on both our hands and if one of us has got to talk the others language why and the he--ll should they pick on the one that's hard to learn it and besides its 2 to i you might say because the u. s. and the english uses the same language and they's nobody only the french that talks like they do because they couldn't nobody else talk that way so why wouldn't it be the square thing for them to forget theirs and tackle ours and it would prolongate their lifes to do it because most of their words can't be said without straining yourself and no matter what kind of a physic you got its bound to wear you down in time. but i suppose the french soldiers figure they have got enough of a job on their hands remembering their different uniforms and who to salute and etc. and they have got a fine system in the french army al because you wear whatever you was before you got to be what you are that is sometimes. for inst. suppose you use to be in the artillery and now you are a aviator you still wear a artillery uniform part of the time and its like i use to pitch for the white sox and i guess i would be a pretty looking bird if i waddled around in the mire here a wile with my old baseball unie on me and soon people would begin to think i was drafted from the toledo mud hens. seriously al sometimes you see 4 or 5 french officers comeing along and they haven't one of them got the same color uniform on but they are all dressed up like a roman candle you might say and if their uniforms run when they got wet a man could let them drip into a pail and drink it up for a pussy cafe. well al the boys in our regt. is going to get out a newspaper and get it out themself and it will be just the news about our regt. and a few gags and comical storys about the different boys and they are going to get it out once per wk. corp. pierson from our co. that use to work on a newspaper somewheres is going to be the editor and he wants i should write them up something about baseball and how to pitch and etc. but i don't believe in a man waisting their time on a childs play like writeing up articles for a newspaper but just to stall him i said i would try and think up something and give it to him when i had it wrote up. well him waiting for my article will be like me waiting for mail because i don't want nobody to take me for a newspaper man because i seen enough of them in baseball and one time we was playing in phila. and i had them shut out up to the 8th inning and all of a sudden weaver and collins got a stroke of paralysis and tipped their caps to a couple ground balls that grazed their shoe laces and then rube oldring hit one on a line right at gandil and he tried to catch it on the bounce off his lap and bill dinneen's right arm was lame and he begin calling everything a ball and first thing you know they beat us 9 to 2 or something and robbins one of the chi paper reporters that traveled with us wired a telegram home to his paper that phila. was supposed to be a town where a man could get plenty of sleep but i looked like i had set up all the nights we was there and of course florrie seen it in the paper and got delirious and i would of busted robbins in the jaw only i wasn't sure if he realy wrote it that way or the telegraph operator might of balled it up. so they won't be no newspaper articles in mine al but i will be anxious to see what pierson's paper looks like when it comes out and i bet it will be a fine paper if our bunch have the writeing of it because the most of them would drop in a swoon if you asked them how to spell their name. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 9._ friend al: well al i guess i all ready told you about them getting up a newspaper in our regt. and joe pierson asked me would i write them up something for it and i told him no i wouldn't but it seems like he overheard me and thought i said i would so any way he was expecting something from me so last night i wrote them up something and i don't know if the paper will ever get printed or not so i will coppy down a part of what i wrote to give you a idear of what i wrote. he wanted i should write them up something about the stragety of baseball and where it was like the stragety in the war because one night last month i give them a little talk at one of their entertainments about how the man that used their brains in baseball was the one that win just like in the army but i guess i all ready told you about me giveing them that little talk and afterwards i got a skinfull of the old grape and i thought sure they would have me up in front of the old court marshall but they never knowed the difference on acct. of the way i can handle it and you take the most of the boys and if they see a cork they want to kiss the colonel. well any way here is the article i wrote up and i called it war and baseball 2 games where brains wins. "the gen. public that go out to the baseball park and set through the games probably think they see everything that is going on on the field but they's a lot of stuff that goes on on the baseball field that the gen. public don't see and don't know nothing about and i refer to what we baseball boys calls inside baseball. "no one is in a better position to know all about inside baseball then a man like i who have been a pitcher in the big league because it is the pitchers that has to do most of the thinking and pull off the smart plays that is what wins ball games. for inst. i will write down about a little incidents that come off one time 2 yrs. ago when the boston club was playing against the chicago white sox where i was one of the stars when the u. s. went into the war and then i dropped baseball and signed up a contract with uncle sam to play for my country in the big game against the kaiser of germany. this day i refer to i was in there giveing them the best i had but we was in a tight game because the boys was not hitting behind me though carl mays that was pitching for the boston club didn't have nothing on the ball only the cover and after the ball left his hand you could have ran in the club house and changed your undershirt and still be back in time to swing when the ball got up there. "well it come along the 9th. inning and we was tied up with the score 2 and 2 and i had larry gardner swinging like a hammock all day but this time he hit a fly ball that either weaver or jackson ought to of caught in a hollow tooth but they both layed down and died on it and gardner got on second base. well they was 2 men out and hoblitzel was the next man up and the next man after he was scott their shortstop that couldn't take the ball in his hand and make a base hit off a man like i so instead of me giveing hobby a ball to hit i walked him as we call it and then of course it was scott's turn to bat and barry their mgr. hesitated if he should send ruth up to hit for scott or not but finely he left scott go up there and he was just dragging his bat off his shoulder to swing at the first strike when i whizzed the third one past him. "that is what we call inside baseball or stragety whether its in baseball or war is walking a man like hoblitzel that might be lucky enough to hit one somewheres but if you don't give him nothing to hit how can he hit it and then i made scott look like he had been sent for but couldn't come. afterwards in the 11th. inning duffy lewis hit a ball that he ought to of been traded for even swinging at it because it come near clipping his ear lob but any way he swang at it and hit it for three bases because jackson layed down and died going after it and lewis scored on a past ball and they beat us 3 to 2. "so that is what we call stragety on the baseball field and it wins there the same like in war and this war will be win by the side that has gens. with brains and use them and i figure where a man that has been in big league baseball where you can't never make a success out of it unless you are a quick thinker and they have got a big advantage over men that's been in other walks of life where its most all luck and i figure the army would be a whole lot better off if all the officers and gens. had of played baseball in the big leagues and learned to think quick, but of course they ain't everybody that have got the ability to play baseball and stand the gaff but the man that has got the ability and been through the ropes is just that much ahead of the rest of them and its to bad that most of our gens. is so old that they couldn't of knew much about baseball since it become a test of brains like it is now. "i am afraid i have eat up a lot of space with my little article on war and baseball so i will end this little article up with a little comical incidents that happened dureing our training trip down in mineral wells, tex. a year ago this spring. the first day we was out for practice they was a young outfielder from a bush league and mgr. rowland told him to go out in right field and shag and this was his reply. 'i haven't never been in this park before so you will half to tell me which is right field.' of course right field, is the same field in all parks and that is what made the incidents so comical and some of the boys is certainly green when they first break in and we have manys the laugh at their expense." that is what i wrote up for them al and i wound it up with that little story and i was reading over what i wrote and johnny alcock seen me reading it and asked me to leave him see it so i showed it to him and he said it was great stuff and he hadn't never dreamt they was that much stragety in baseball and he thought if some of the officers seen it they would pop their eyes out and they would want to talk to me and get my idears and see if maybe they couldn't some of them be plied to war fair and maybe if i showed them where it could i would get promoted and stuck on to the gen. staff that's all made up from gens. that lays out the attacks and etc. well al alcock is a pretty wise bird and a fine boy to if you know how to take him and he seen right off what i was getting at in my article and its true al that the 2 games is like the other and quick thinking is what wins in both of them. but i am not looking for no staff job that you don't half to go up in the trenchs and fight but just lay around in some office somewheres and stick pins in a map while the rest of the boys is sticking bayonets in the dutchmen's maps so i hope they don't none of the gens. see what i wrote because i come over here to fight and be a soldier and carry a riffle instead of a pin cushion. but it don't hurt nothing for me to give them a few hints once in a wile about useing their brains if they have got them and if i can do any good with my articles in the papers why i would just as leaf wear my fingers to the bone writeing them up. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 13._ friend al: well al i bet you will pretty near fall over in a swoon when you read what i have got to tell you. before you get this letter you will probably all ready of got a coppy of the paper i told you about because it come out the day before yesterday and i sent you a coppy with my article in it only they cut a part of it out on acct. of not haveing enough space for all of it but they left the best part of it in. well al somebody must of a sent a coppy to gen. pershing and marked up what i wrote up so as he would be sure and see it and probably one of the officers done it. well that's either here or there but this afternoon when we come in they was a letter for me and who do you think it was from al. well you can't never even begin to guess so i will tell you. it was from gen. pershing al and it come from paris where he is at and i have got it here laying on the table and i would send it to you to look at only i wouldn't take no chances of looseing it and i don't mean you wouldn't be carefull of it al but of course the mail has got to go across the old pond and if the dutchmens periscoped the boat the letter was on it it would be good night letter and a letter like this here is something to be proud of and hold onto it and keep it for little al till he grows up big enough to appreciate it. but they's nothing to prevent me from copping down the letter so as you can read what it says and here it is. private keefe, _dear sir_: my attention was called today to an article written by you in your regimental paper under the title war and baseball: two games where brains wins. in this article you state that our generals would be better able to accomplish their task if they had enjoyed the benefits of strategic training in baseball. i have always been a great admirer of the national game of baseball and i heartily agree with what you say. but unfortunately only a few of us ever possessed the ability to play your game and the few never were proficient enough to play it professionally. therefore the general staff is obliged to blunder along without that capacity for quick thinking which is acquired only on the baseball field. but i believe in making use of all the talent in my army, even among the rank and file. therefore i respectfully ask whether you think some of your baseball secrets would be of strategic value to us in the prosecution of this war and if so whether you would be willing to provide us with the same. if it is not too much trouble, i would be pleased to hear from you along these lines, and if you have any suggestion to make regarding a campaign against our enemy, either offensive or defensive, i would be pleased to have you outline it in a letter to me. by the way i note with pleasure that our first names are the same. it makes a sort of bond between us which i trust will be further cemented if you can be of assistance to me in my task. i shall eagerly await your reply. sincerely, black jack pershing, folies bergere, paris, france. that is the letter i got from him al and i'll say its some letter and i bet if some of these smart alex officers seen it it would reduce some of the swelling in their chest but i consider the letter confidential al and i haven't showed it to nobody only 3 or 4 of my buddys and i showed it to johnny alcock and he popped his eyes out so far you could of snipped them off with a shears. and he said it was a cinch that pershing realy wrote it on acct. of him signing it black jack pershing and they wouldn't nobody else sign it that way because it was a private nickname between he and some of his friends and they wouldn't nobody else know about it. so then he asked was i going to answer the letter and i said of course i was and he says well i better take a whole lot of pains with my answer and study up the situation before i wrote it and put some good idears in it and if my letters made a hit with gen. pershing the next thing you know he would probably summons me to paris and maybe stick me on the war board so as all i would half to do would be figure up plans of attacks and etc. and not half to go up in the trenchs and wrist my life and probably get splattered all over france. so i said "well i am not looking for no excuse to get out of the trenchs but its just the other way and i am nuts to get in them." so he says "you must be." but he showed me where it would be a great experience to set in at them meetings even if i didn't have much to say and just set there and listen and hear their plans and what's comeing off and besides i would get a chance to see something of paris and it don't look like none of us only the officers would be give leave to go there but of course i would go if black jack wanted me and after all al i am here to give uncle sam the best i have got and if i can serve the stars and strips better by sticking pins in a map then getting in the trenchs why all right and it takes more than common soldiers to win a war and if i am more use to them as a kind of adviser instead of carrying a bayonet why i will sacrifice my own feelings for the good of the cause like i often done in baseball. but they's another thing alcock told me al and that is that the war board they have got has got gens. on it from all the different countrys like the u. s. and england and france and spain and of course they are more french gens. than anything else on acct. of the war being here in france so probably they do some of their talking in french and alcock says if he was i he would get busy and try and learn enough french so as i could make myself understood when i had something to say and of course they probably won't nothing come out of it all but still and all i always says its best to be ready for whatever comes off and if the u. s. had of been ready for this war i wouldn't be setting here writeing this letter now but i would be takeing a plunge in one of them berlin brewry vats. any way i have all ready picked enough french so as i can talk it pretty good and i would be o. k. if i could understand it when they are talking it off but to hear them talk it off you would think they seen their dinner at the end of the sentence. well al i will tell you how things comes out and i hope black jack will forget all about it and lay off me so as i can get into the real fighting instead of standing in front of a map all the wile like a school teacher or something and i all most wished i hadn't never wrote that article and then of course the idear wouldn't of never came to black jack that i could help him but if he does take me on his staff it will be some pair of jacks eh al and enough to open the pot and if the germans is sucker enough to stay in they will get their whiskers cinched. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 14._ friend al: well this is the second letter i have wrote today and the other one is to gen. pershing and i have still got the letter here yet al and i will coppy it down and tell you what i wrote to him. gen. jack pershing, care folies bergere, paris, france. _dear gen_: you can bet i was supprised to get a letter from you and when i wrote that article i didn't have no idear that they would something come out of it. well gen. i come into the army expecting to fight and lay down my life if nessary and i am not one of the kind that are looking for an out and trying to hide behind a desk or something because i am afraid to go into the trenchs but i guess if you know something about baseball you won't accuse me from not having the old nerve because they can't no man hold onto a job in the big leagues unless a man is fearless and does their best work under fire and especially a pitcher. but if you figure that i can serve old glory better some other way then in the rank and files i am willing to sacrifice myself like i often done in baseball. anything to win gen. is the way i look at it. you asked me in your letter did i think some of my idears would help out well gen. a man don't like to sound like they was bragging themself up but this isn't no time for monking and i guess you want the truth. well gen. i don't know much about running a army and their plans but stragety is the same if its on the battle field or the baseball diamond you might say and it just means how can we beat them and i often say that the men that can use their brains will win any kind of a game except maybe some college willy boy game like football or bridge whist. well gen. without no bragging myself up i learned a whole lot about stragety on the baseball field and i think i could help you in a good many ways but before i tried to tell you how to do something i would half to know what you was trying to do and of course i know you can't tell me in a letter on acct. of the censors and of course they are americans to but they's a whole lot of the boys that don't mean no harm but they are gabby and can't keep their mouth shut and who knows who would get a hold of it and for the same reason i don't feel like i should give you any of my idears by mail but if i could just see you and we could have a little talk and talk things over but i don't suppose they's any chance of that unless i could get leave off to run down to paris for a wile and meet you somewheres but they won't give us no leave to go to paris but of course a letter from you that i could show it to capt. seeley would fix it up and no questions asked. so i guess i better wait till i hear from you along these lines and in the mean wile i will be thinking the situation over and see what i can think up and i all ready got some idears that i feel like they would work out o. k. and i hope i will get a chance in the near future to have a little chat with you. i note what you say about our name being both jack and i was thinking to myself that lots of times in a poker game a pair of jacks is enough to win and maybe it will be the same way in the war game and any way i guess the 2 of us could put up a good bluff and bet them just as if we had them. eh gen? respy, jack keefe. that's what i wrote to him al and he will get it some time tomorrow or the next day and i should ought to hear from him back right away and i hope he will take my hint and leave me stay here with my regt. where i can see some real action. but if he summonses me i will go al and not whine about getting a raw deal. well i happened to drop into a estaminet here yesterday and that's kind of a store where a man can buy stuff to take along with him or you can get a cup of coffee or pretty near anything and they was a girl on the job in there and she smiled when i come in and i smiled at her back and she seen i was american so she begin talking to me in english only she has got some brogue and its hard to make it out what she is trying to get at. well we talked a wile and all of a sudden the idear come to me that i and her could hit it off and both do the other some good by her learning me french and i could learn her english and so i sprung it on her and she was tickled to death and we called it a bargain and tomorrow we are going to have our first lessons and how is that al for a bargain when i can pick up french without it costing me a nickle and of course they won't be only time for i or 2 lessons before i hear from black jack but i can learn a whole lot in 2 lessons if she will tend to business but the way she smiled at me when i come out and the looks she give me i am afraid if she seen much of me it would be good night so i will half to show her i won't stand for no foolishness because i had enough flirtations al and the next woman that looks x eyed at me will catch her death of cold. your pal, jack. [illustration: she smiled when i came in and i smiled back at her back] * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 16._ friend al: well old pal it looks like they wouldn't be no front line trenchs for this baby and what i am getting at is that the word was past around today that black jack himself is comeing and they isn't no faulse alarm about it because capt. seeley told us himself and said gen. pershing would be here in a day or 2 to overlook us and he wanted that everybody should look their best and keep themself looking neat and clean and clean up all the billets and etc. because that was what gen. pershing was comeing to see, how we look and how we are getting along and etc. well al that's what capt. seeley said but between you and i they's another reason why he is comeing and i guess he figures they will be a better chance to talk things over down here then if i was to go to paris and i am not the only one that knows why he is comeing because after supper alcock called me over to i side and congratulated me and said it looked like i was in soft. well i will be ready for him when he comes and i will be ready to pack up and blow out of here at a minute's notice and i can't help from wondring what some of these smart alex officers will say when they see what's comeing off. so this won't be only a short letter al because i have got a lot to do to get ready and what i am going to do is write down some of my idears so as i can read them off to him when he comes and if i didn't have them wrote down i might maybe get nervous when i seen him and maybe forget what i got to say because the boys says he's a tough bird for a man to see for the first time till you get to know him and he acts like he was going to eat you alive but he's a whole lot like a dog when you get to know him and his bark is worse then a bite. well al how is that for news and i guess you will be prouder then ever of your old pal before this business gets over with and i would feel pretty good with everything breaking so good only i am getting worred about ernestine that little french gal in the estaminet and i wished now i hadn't never seen her or made no bargain with her and i didn't do it so much for what i could learn off of her but these french gals al has had a tough time of it and if a man can bring a little sunshine into their life he wouldn't be a man unless he done it. so i was just trying to be a good fellow and here is what i get for it because i caught her today al with that look in her eye that i seen in so many of them and i know what it means and i guess about the best thing for me to do is run away from gen. pershing and go over the top or something and leave the boshs shoot my nose off or mess me up some way and then maybe i won't get pestered to death every time i try and be kind to some little gal. i guess the french lessons will half to be cut out because it wouldn't be square to leave her see me again and it would be different if i could tell her i am married but i don't know the french terms for it and besides it don't seem to make no difference to some of them and the way they act you would think a wife was just something that come out on you like a sty and the best way to do was just to forget it. well al as i say i caught her looking at me like it was breaking her heart and i wouldn't be supprised if she cried after i come away, but what can a man do about it al and i have got a good notion to wear my gas mask everywhere i go and then maybe i will have a little peace once in a wile. i must close now for this time and get busy on some idears so as black jack won't catch me flat footed but i guess they's no danger of that eh al? your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 18._ friend al: well old pal i am all set for gen. pershing when he comes and i have got some of my idears wrote down just the bear outlines of them and when he asks me if i have got any i can just read them off from my notes like i was a lecture and here is a few of the notes i have got wrote down so you can get some idear of what i am going to spring on him. 1 in baseball many big league mgrs. before a game they talk it over in the club house with their men and disgust the weakness of the other club and how is the best way to beat them and etc. for inst. when i was pitching for the white sox and suppose we was going to face a pitcher that maybe he was weak on fielding bunts so before the game mgr. rowland would say to us "remember boys this baby so and so gets the rabbis if you lay down bunts on him." so we would begin laying them down on him and the first thing you know he would be frothing at the mouth and triping all over himself and maybe if he did finely get a hold of the ball he would throw it into the southren league or somewheres and before the other mgr. could get another bird warmed up they would half to hire a crossing policeman to straiten out the jam at the plate. and the same thing would be in war like in baseball and instead of a army going into it blind you might say, why the gens. ought to get together before the battle and fix it up to work on the other side's weakness. for inst. suppose the germans is weak on getting out of the way of riffle bullets why that's the weapon to use on them and make a sucker out of them. 2 getting the jump on your oppts. is more then 1/2 the battle whether its in the war or on the baseball field and many a game has been win by getting the jump on your oppts. for inst. that reminds me of a little incidents that happened one day when we was playing the washington club and i was pitching against the notorious walter johnson and before they was a man out geo. mcbride booted one and collins and jackson got a couple hits and we was 2 runs to the good before they was a man out. well johnson come back pretty good and the rest of the game the boys acted like they was scared of him and kept one foot in the water bucket but we would of win the game at that only in the 9th. inning schalk dropped a third strike on me and judge and milan hit a couple of fly balls that would of been easy outs only for the wind but the wind raised havioc with the ball and they both went for hits and they beat us 3 to 2 and that's the kind of luck i genally always had against the washington club. 3 in baseball of course they's only nine men on a side and that is where a gen. in the war has got the advantage on a mgr. in baseball because they's no rules in war fair to keep a man from useing all the men he feels like so it looks to me like a gen. had all the best of it because suppose the other side only had say 50 thousand men in a certain section they's nothing to prevent a gen. from going after them with a 100 thousand men and if he can't run them ragged when you got to them 2 to i its time to enlist in the g. a. r. all though as i say a mgr. can't only use nine men at a time in baseball, but at that i know of incidents where a mgr. has took advantage of the oppts. being shy of men and one time the st. louis club came to chi and jones was all crippled up for pitchers but the game was on our home grounds so it was up to mgr. rowland to say if the game should be played or if he should call it off on acct. of cold weather because it was in the spring. but he knowed jones was shy of pitchers so he made him play the game and jones used big laudermilk to pitch against us and they beat us 5 and 2. 4 another advantage where a gen. got it on a baseball mgr. because in baseball the game begins at 3 o'clock and the other club knows when its going to begin just the same as your club so they can't neither club beat the other one to it and start the game wile the other club is looking out the window. but a gen. don't half to tell the other side when he is going to attack them but of course they have observers that can see when you are going to get ready to pull something. but it looks to me like the observers wouldn't be worth a hoop and he--ll if the other gen. made his preparations at night when it was dark like bringing up the troops and artilery and supplys and etc. and in that way you could take them by supprise and make them look like a fool, like in baseball i have often crossed the batter up and one day i had cobb 3 and 2 and he was all set to murder a fast one and i dinked a slow one up there to him and the lucky stiff hit it on the end of his bat just inside third base and 2 men scored on it. * * * * * that's about the idears i am going to give him al only of course i can talk it off better then i can write it because wile i am talking i can think up a lot more incidents to tell him and him being a baseball fan he will set there pop eyed with his mouth open as long as i want to talk. but now i can't hardly wait for him to get here al and it seems funny to think that here i am a $30 dollar a mo. doughboy and maybe in a few days i will be on the staff and they don't have nobody only officers and even a lieut. gets 5 or 6 times as much as a doughboy and how is that for a fine nickname al for men that all the dough they are getting is a $1 per day and the pollutes only gets 2 sues a day and that's about 2 cents so i suppose we ought to call them the wall st. crowd. well al you should ought to be thankfull you are there at home with your wife where you can watch her and keep your eyes on her and find out what she is doing with her spare time though i guess at that they wouldn't be much danger of old bertha running a muck and i don't suppose she would half to wear bob wire entanglements to keep jack the kisser away but when a man has got a wife like florrie and here i am over here and there she is over there well al a man don't get to sleep no quicker nights from thinking about it and i lay there night after night and wonder what and the he--ll can she be doing and she might be doing most anything al and they's only the one thing that its a cinch she ain't doing and that's writeing a letter to me and a man would pretty near think she had forgot my first name but even at that she could set down and write to me and start it out dear husband. but the way she acts why even if they was any fun over here i wouldn't be haveing it and suppose i do get on gen. pershing's staff and get a lieut. or something and write and tell her about it, why she would probably wait till a legal holiday to answer me back and then she would write about 10 words and say she went to the palace last week and when she come out after the show it was raining. well al you can't blame a man for anything he pulls off when their wife acts like that and if i give that little ernestine a smack the next time she bulges her lips out at me whose fault is it al? not mine. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, march 20._ friend al: well al the sooner the germans starts their drive let them come and i only hope we are up there when they start it and believe me al if they come at us with the gas i will dive into it with my mouth wide open and see how much of it i can get because they's no use al of a man trying to live with the kind of luck i have got and i'm sick in tired of it all. wait till you hear what come off today al. in the first place my feet's been going back on me for a long wile and they walked us all over france yesterday and this a. m. i couldn't hardly get my shoes on and they was going out for riffle practice and i don't need no riffle practice al and besides that i couldn't of stood it so i got excused and i set around a wile after the rest of the bunch was gone and finely my feet got feeling a little better and i walked over to the estaminet where that little gal's at to see if maybe i couldn't brighten things up a little for her and sure enough she was all smiles when she seen me and we talked a wile about this in that and she tried to get personal and called me cherry which is like we say dearie and finely i made the remark that i didn't think we would be here much longer and then i seen she was going to blubber so i kind of petted her hand and stroked her hair and she poked her lips out and i give her a smack al but just like you would kiss a kid or something after they fell down and hurt themself. well al just as this was comeing off the door to the other part of the joint opened up and in come her old man and seen it and i thought all frenchmens talked fast al but this old bird made them sound like a impediment and he come at me and if he hadn't been so old i would of crowned him but of course i couldn't do nothing only let him rave and finely i felt kind of sorry for him and i had a 20 frank note on me so i shoved it at him and it struck him dumb al and i got out of there and come back to the ark and it seems like i had been away a whole lot longer then i meant to and any way i hadn't hardly no more then got my shoes off and layed down when in come some of the boys. well al what do you think? gen. pershing was out there to the riffle practice to overlook them and i suppose he heard we was going to be out there and he went out there to be sure and catch me and he was makeing a visit around the camp and instead of him stopping here he went out there to see us and instead of me being out there al, here i was mixed up in a riot with an old goof over nothing you might say and black jack wondring where and the he--ll could i be at because alcock told me he noticed him looking around like he mist somebody. and now he's on his way back to paris and probably sore as a boil and i can't do nothing only wait to hear from him and probably he will just decide to pass me up. and the worst of it is al that when they brought us the mail they was 2 letters for me from florrie and i couldn't of asked for nicer letters if i had wrote them myself only why and the he--ll couldn't she of wrote them a day sooner and i would of no more thought of getting excused today then fly because if i had knew how my mrs. mist me and how much she cares i wouldn't of been waisting no time on no ernestine but its to late now and black jack's gone and so is my 20 franks and believe me al 20 frank notes is tray pew over here. i'll say they are. your pal, jack. chapter iv decorated _somewheres in france, april 2._ friend al: well al yesterday was april fool and you ought to seen what i pulled on 1 of the boys johnny alcock and it was a screen and some of the boys is still laughing over it yet but he is i of the kind that he can't see a joke at their own expenses and he swelled up like a poison pup and now he is talking about he will get even with me, but the bird that gets even with me will half to get up a long time before revelry eh al. well al i will tell you what i pulled on him and i bet you will bust your sides. well it seems like johnny has got a girl in his home town riverside, ill. near chi and that is he don't know if he has got her or not because him and another bird was both makeing a play for her, but before he come away she told him to not worry, but the other bird got himself excused out of the draft with a cold sore or something and is still there in the old town yet where he can go and call on her every night and she is libel to figure that maybe she better marry him so as she can have some of her evenings to herself and any way she might as well of told johnny to not scratch himself over here as to not worry because for some reason another the gal didn't write to him last month at lease he didn't get no letters and maybe they got lost or she had writers cramps or something but any way every time the mail come and nothing for him he looked like he had been caught off second base. well the day before yesterday he was reading 1 of the letters he got from this baby 5 or 6 wks. ago on acct. of not haveing nothing better to read and he left the envelope lay on the floor and i was going to hand it back to him but i happened to think that yesterday would be april fool so i kept a hold of the envelope and i got a piece of paper and wrote april fool on it and stuck it in the envelope and fixed it up so as it would look like a new letter and i handed it to him yesterday like it was mail that had only just came for him and you ought to see him when he tore it open and didn't find nothing only april fool in it. at first he couldn't say nothing but finely he says "that's some comedy keefe. you ought to be a end man in the stretcher bearers minstrels" and he didn't crack a smile so i said "what's the matter with you can't you take a joke?" so he said "what i would like to take is a crack at your jaw." so i said "well it's to bad your arms is both paralyzed." well al they's nothing the matter with his arms and i was just kidding him because as far as him hitting anybody is conserned i was just as safe as the gen. staff because he ain't much bigger than a cutie and for him to reach my jaw he would half to join the aviation. well of course he didn't start nothing but just said he would get back at me if it took him till the duration of the war and i told some of the other boys about putting it over on him and they couldn't hardly help from smileing but he acts like a baby and don't speak to me and i suppose maybe he thinks that makes me feel bad but i got to be 25 yrs. old before i ever seen him and if his head was blowed off tomorrow a. m. i would try and show up for my 3 meals a day if you could call them that. but speaking about april fool al i just stopped writeing to try and light a cigarette with 1 of these here french matchs and every one of them is a april fool and i guess the parents of the kids over here don't never half to worry about them smokeing to young because even if they had a box of cigarettes hid in their cradle they would be of age before they would run across a match that lit and i wouldn't be scared to give little al a bunch and turn him loose in a bbl. of gasoline. well al i suppose you been reading in the papers about the dutchmens starting a drive vs. the english up in the northren part of the section and at first it looked like the english was going to leave them walk into the gulf stream and scald themself to death, but now it seems like we have got them slowed up at lease that's the dope we get here but for all the news we get a hold of we might as well of jumped to the codfish league on the way over and once in a wile some of the boys gets a u. s. paper a mo. old but they hog onto it and don't leave nobody else see it but as far as i am conserned they can keep it because i haven't no time to waist reading about the frisco fair or the federal league has blowed up and etc. and of course they's plenty of newspapers from paris but all printed in la la la so as every time you come to a word you half to rumage through a dictionary and even when you run it down its libel to mean 20 different articles and by the time you figured out whether they are talking about a st. car or a hot bath or a raisin or what and the he--ll they are talking about they wouldn't be no more news to it then the bible and it looks to me al like it would be a good idear if you was to drop me a post card when the war is over so as i can tell capt. seeley or he will still be running us ragged to get in shape a couple of yrs. after the last of the dutchmens lays molting in the grave. jokeing to 1 side al you probably know what's going on a long wile before we do and the only chance we would have to know how a battle come out would be if we was in it and they's no chance of that unless they send us up to the northern part of the section to help out because van hindenburg must have something under his hat besides bristles and he ain't a sucker enough to start driveing vs. the front that we are behind it unless he is so homesick that he can't stand it no longer in france. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 6._ friend al: well al 1 of the chi newspapers is getting out a paper in paris and printed in english and i just seen a copy of it where the allys has finely got wise to themself and made 1 man gen. of all the allys and it was a sucker play to not do that long ago only it looks to me like they pulled another boner by makeing a frenchman the gen. and i suppose they done it for a complement to the frenchmens on acct. of the war being here, but even suppose this here foch is a smart gen. and use his brains and etc. it looks to me like it would of been a whole lot better to of picked out a man that can speak english because suppose we was all in a big battle or something and he wanted we should go over the top and if he said it in french why most of the boys hasn't made no attempts to master the language and as far as they was conserned he might as well be telling them to wash their neck. or else they would half to be interpeters to translate it out in english what he was getting at and by the time he give the orders to fire and the interpeter looked it up and seen what it meant in english and then tell us about it the dutchmens would be putting peep holes through us with a bayonet and besides the french word for fire in english is feu in french and you say it like it was few and if gen. foch yelled few we might think he was complaining of the heat. but at that its better to have i man running it even a frenchman then a lot of different gens, telling us to do this in that and the other thing every one of them different and suppose they done that in baseball al and a club had 3 or 4 mgrs. and suppose for inst. it come up to the 9th. inning and we needed some runs and it was benz's turn to hit and 1 mgr. would tell him to go up and hit for himself and another mgr. would tell murphy to go up and hit for him and another mgr. would send risberg up and another would send russell and the next thing you know they would be 2 of them swinging from 1 side of the plate and 2 from the other side and probably busting each other in the bean with their bats but you take most bird's beans and what would break would be mr. bat. but its the same in war like in baseball and you got to have 1 man running it. with a lot of different gens. in command, 1 of them might tell the men to charge while another was telling them to pay cash. jokeing to 1 side al some of our boys have overtook a section up along the moose river and i wouldn't dast write about it only its been printed in the papers all ready so i am not giveing away no secrets to the dutchmens. at lease they don't mind us writeing something that's came out in the papers though as far as i can see how would the dutchmens know it any more if it was in the papers or not, because they ain't so choked with jack over in germany that they are going to spend it on u. s. papers a mo. old and even when they got them they would half to find somebody that could read english and hadn't been killed for it and it would be like as if i should spend part of my $15 a mo. subscribeing to the chop suey bladder that you would half to lay on your stomach and hold it with your feet to get it right side up and even then it wouldn't mean nothing. but any way the dutchmens is going to know sooner or later that we are in the war and what's the differents if they meet us at the moose or the elks? jokeing a side al i guess you won't be supprised to hear how i have picked up in the riffle practice and i knew right along that i couldn't hardly help from being a a no. 1 marksman because a man that had almost perfect control in pitching you might say would be bound to shoot straight when they got the hang of it and don't be supprised if i write you 1 of these days that i been appointed a snipper that sets up in a tree somewheres and picks off the boshs whenever they stick their head up and they call them snippers so pretty soon my name is libel to be jake snipe instead of jack keefe, but seriously al i can pick off them targets like they was cherrys or something and maybe i won't half to go in the trenchs at all. i guess i all ready told you about that little trick i pulled on johnny alcock for a april fool gag and at first he swelled up like a poison pup and wouldn't talk to me and said he wouldn't never rest till he got even. well he finely got a real letter from the gal back home and she is still waiting for him yet so he feels o. k. again and i and him are on speaking turns again and i am glad to not be scraping with him because i don't never feel right unless i am pals with everybody but they can't nobody stay sore at me very long and even when some of the boys in baseball use to swell up when i pulled 1 of my gags on them it wouldn't last long because i would just smile at them and they would half to smile back and be pals and i always say that if a man can't take a joke he better take acid or something and make a corps out of himself instead of a monkey. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 11._ friend al: well al i don't suppose you knew i was a detective but when it comes to being a dick it looks like i don't half to salute win. burns or shylock or none of them. seriously al i come onto something today that may turn out to be something big and then again it may not but it looks like it was something big only of course it has got to be kept a secret till i get the goods on a certain bird and i won't pull it till i have got him right and in that way he won't suspect nothing until its to late. but i know you wouldn't breath a word about it and besides it wouldn't hurt nothing if you did because by the time you get this letter the whole thing will be over and this bird to who i refer will probably own a peace of land in france with a 2 ft. frontidge and 6 ft. deep. but you will wonder what am i trying to get at so maybe i better explain myself. well al they's a big bird in our co, name geo. shaffer and that's a german name because look at schaefer that use to play ball in our league and it was spelt different but they called him germany and he thought he was funny and use to pull gags on the field but i guess he didn't feel so funny the day griffith sent him up to hit against me in the pinch i day at washington and if the ball he hit had of went straight out instead of straight up it would of pretty near cleared the infield. but any way this bird shaffer in our co. is big enough to have a corporal to himself and they must of spent the first liberty loan on his uniform and he hasn't hardly said a word since we been in france and for a wile we figured it was just because he was a crab and to grouchy to talk, but now i wouldn't be supprised al if the real reason was on acct. of him being a dutchman and maybe can't talk english very good. well i would feel pretty mean to be spying on most of the boys that's been good pals with me, but when a man is a pro german spy himself they's no question of friendship and etc. and whatever i can do to show this bird up i won't hesitate a minute. well al this bird was writeing a letter last night and he didn't have no envelope and he asked me did i have i and i said no and he wouldn't of never spoke only to say gimme but when i told him i didn't have no envelope he started off somewheres to get 1 and he dropped the last page out of the letter he had been writeing and it was laying right there along side of me and of course i wouldn't of paid no tension to it only it was face up so as i couldn't help from seeing it and what i seen wasn't no words like a man would write in a letter but it was a bunch of marks like a x down at the bottom and they was a whole line of them like this x x x x x x x x x x x well that roused up my suspicions and i guess you know i am not the kind that reads other people's letters even if i don't get none of my own to read but this here letter i kind of felt like they was something funny about it like he was writeing in ciphers or something so i picked the page up and read it through and sure enough they was parts of it in ciphers and if a man didn't have the key you couldn't tell what and the he--ll he was getting at. well al i was still studing the page yet when he come back in and they wasn't nothing for me to do only set on it so as he wouldn't see i had it and he come over and begin looking for it and i asked him had he lost something to throw him off the track and he said yes but he didn't say what it was and that made it all the more suspicious so he finely give up looking and went out again. well i have got it put away where he can't get a hold of it because i showed it to johnny alcock this a. m. and asked him if it didn't look like something off color and he said yes it did and if he was me he would turn it over to capt. seeley but on 2d thoughts he said i better keep it a wile and at the same time keep a eye on shaffer and get more evidents vs. him and then when i had him dead to rights i could turn the letter and the rest of the evidents over to capt. seeley and then i would be sure to get the credit for showing him up. well al i figure this 1 page of his letter is enough or more then enough only of course its best to play safe and keep my eyes pealed and see what comes off and i haven't got time to copy down the whole page al and besides they's a few sentences that sounds o. k. and i suppose he put them in for a blind but you can't get away from them x marks al and i will write down a couple other sentences and i bet you will agree that they's something fishy about them and here is the sentences to which i refer: "in regards to your question i guess i understand o. k. in reply will say yes i. l. y. more than y. l. m. am i right." "have you saw d. give him a ring and tell the old spinort i am w. c. t. u. outside of a little vin blank." can you make heads or tales out of that al? i guess not and neither could anybody else except they had the key to it and the best part of it is his name is signed down at the bottom and if he can explain that line of talk he is a wonder but he can't explain it al and all as he can do is make a clean brest of the whole business and alcock thinks the same way and alcock says he wished he had of been the 1 that got a hold of this evidents because whoever turned it over to capt. sceley along with what other facts i can get a hold of will just about get a commission in the intelligents dept. and that's the men that looks after the pro german spys al and gets the dope on them and shows them up and i would probably have my head quarters in paris and get good money besides my expenses and i would half to pass up the chance to get in the trenchs and fight but they's more ways of fighting then 1 and in this game al a man has got to go where they send you and where they figure they would do the most good and if my country needs me to track after spys i will sacrifice my own wishs though i would a whole lot rather stay with my pals and fight along side of them and not snoop round paris fondleing door nobs like a night watchman. but alcock says he would bet money that is where i will land and he says "you ought to feel right at home in the intelligents dept. like a camel in lake erie" and he says the first chance i get i better try and start up a conversation with shaffer and try and lead him on and that is the way they trap them is to ask them a whole lot of questions and see what they have got to say and if you keep fireing questions at them they are bound to get balled up and then its good night. well i don't suppose it seems possible to you stay at homes that they could be such a thing like a pro german spy in the u. s. army and how did he get there and why did they leave him in and etc. well al you would be supprised to know how many of them has slipped in and alcock says that at first it amounted to about 200% but the intelligents officers has been on their sent all the wile and most of them has been nailed and when they get them they shoot them down like a dog and that's what shaffer will get al and he is out of luck to be so big because all as the fireing squad would half to do would be look at their compass and see if he was east or west of them and then face their riffle in that direction and let go. i will write and let you know how things comes along. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 14._ friend al: well al i am closeing the net of evidents around shaffer and i guess i all ready got enough on him to make out a case that he couldn't never wrinkle out of it but capt. seeley is away and i can't do nothing till he gets back. i had my man on the grill today al and i thought he would be a fox and not criminate himself but i guess i went at him so smooth he didn't never suspect nothing till along towards the finish and then it was to late. i don't remember all that was said but it run along these lines like as follows: in the first place i asked him where he lived and he said milwaukee ave. in chi and i don't know if you know it or not al but that's a st. where they have got traffic policemens at the corners to blow their whistles once for the germans to go north and south and twice for them to go east and west. so then i said was he married and he says no. so then i asked him where he was born and he said "what and the he--ll are you the personal officer?" so i laughed it off and said "no but i thought maybe we come from the same part of the country." so he says something about everybody didn't half to come from the country but he wouldn't come out and say where he did come from so then i kind of led around to the war and i made the remark that the german drive up on the north side of france didn't get very far and he says maybe they wasn't through. how was that for a fine line of talk al and he might as well have said he hoped the germans wouldn't never be stopped. well for a minute i couldn't hardly help from takeing a crack at him but in these kind of matters al a man has got to keep a hold of themself or they will loose their quarry so i kind of forced a smile and said "well i guess they would have kept going if they could of." and then he says "yes but they half to stop every once in a wile to bring up van hindenburg." so i had him traped al and quick is a flash i said "who told you their plans?" and he says "oh he--ll my mother in law" and walked away from me. well al it was just like sometimes when they are trying a man for murder and he says he couldn't of did it because he was over to the elite jazing when it come off and a little wile later the lawyer asks him where did he say he was at when the party was croked and he forgets what he said the 1st. time and says he was out to lincoln pk. kidding the bison or something and the lawyer points out to the jury where his storys don't jib and the next thing you know he is dressed up in a hemp collar a couple sizes to small. and that's the same way i triped shaffer getting him to say he wasn't married and finely when i have him cornered he busts out about his mother in law. well al i don't know of no way to get a mother in law without marrying into one. so i told alcock tonight what had came off and he says it looked to him like i had a strong case and if he was me he would spill it to capt. seeley the minute he gets back. and he said "you lucky stiff you won't never see the inside of a front line trench." so i asked him what he meant and he repeated over again what he said about them takeing me in the intelligents dept. so it looks like i was about through being a doughboy al and pretty soon i will probably be writeing to you from paris but i don't suppose i will be able to tell you what i am doing because that's the kind of a job where mum is the word. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 16._ friend al: well old pal don't be supprised if i write you the next time from paris. i have got a date to see capt. seeley tomorrow and lieut. mather fixed it up for me to see him but i had to convince the lieut. that it wasn't no monkey business because they's always a whole lot of riffs and raffs asking capt. seeley can they have a word with him and what they want is to borry his knife to pair their finger nails. but i guess he won't be sorry he seen me al not when i show him the stuff i have got on this bird and he will probably shake me by the hand and say "well keefe uncle sam is proud of you but you are waisting your time here and i will be sorry to loose you but it looks like you belong in other fields." and he will wire a telegram to the gen. staff reccomending me to go to paris. i guess i all ready told you some of the stuff i have got on this bird but i have not told you all because the best one didn't only happen last night. well on acct. of i and alcock being friends he has kind of been keeping a eye pealed on shaffer to help me out and he found a letter last night that shaffer had wrote and this time it was the whole letter with the address and everything and who do you suppose it was to? well al it was to van hindenburg himself and i have got it right here where i can keep a eye on it and believe me it's worth watching and i wished i could send it to you so you could see for yourself what kind of a bird we are dealing with. but that's impossible al but they's nothing to keep me from copping it off. well the letter is wrote in german and to show you what a foxy bird he is he wrote it out in printing so as if it got found by somebody they couldn't prove he wrote it because when words is wrote out in printing it looks just the same who ever wrote it and you can't tell. but he wasn't foxy enough to not sign g. s. down to the bottom of it and that stands for his name george shaffer and he is the only g. s. in the co. so it looks like we had him up in a tree. here is what the letter says: "field marshall van hindenburg, c/o die vierten dachshunds, deutscher armee, flanders. 500,000 u. s. soldaten schon in frankreich doch. in lauterbach habe ich mein strumpf verloren und ohne strumpf gehe ich nicht heim. xxxxxxx g.s." notice them x marks again al like in the other letter and the other letter was probably to van hindenburg to and i only wished i knew what the x marks means but maybe some of the birds that's all ready in the intelligents dept. can figure it out. but they's no mystery about the rest of it al because alcock understands german and he translated it out what the german words means and here is what it means: 500,000 united states soldiers in france all ready yet. will advise you when to attack on this front. how is that al for a fine trader and spy to tell the gen. of the german army how many soldiers we got over here and to not attack till shaffer says the word and he was probably going to say it wile we was all asleep or something. but thanks to me al he will be the one that is asleep and it will be some sleep al and it will make old rip and winkle look like they had the colic and when the boys finds out what i done for them i guess they won't be nothing to good for me. but it will be to late for them to show their appreciations because i won't be here no more and the boys probably won't see me again till its all over and we are back in the old u. s. because alcock was talking to a bird that's in the int. dept. and he says 1 of their dutys was to keep away from everybody and not leave them know who you are. because of course if word got out that you was a spy chaser the spys wouldn't hardly run up and kiss you on the st. but they would duck when they seen you and you would have as much chance to catch them as though you was trolling for wales with a grass hopper. and from this bird's dope that alcock was talking to i will half to leave off my uniform and wear plain close and maybe wear false whiskers and etc. so as people who see me the 1st. time i will look different to them the next time they see me and maybe i will half to let my mustache grow and grease it so as they will think maybe i am a dutchman and if they are working for the kaiser i could maybe pump them. but they's 1 thing i don't like about it al because alcock says paris is full of women that isn't exactly spys but they have been made a fool out of and they are some german's duke but the dutchmens tells them a whole lot of things that uncle sam would like to know and i would half to find them things out and the only way to do that would be to get them stuck on me and i guess that wouldn't be no chore but when a gal gets stuck on you they will tell you everything they know and wile with most gals i ever seen they could do that without dropping another nickle still and all it would be different with these gals in paris that's been the tools of some dutchmens because you take a german and he don't never stop braging till he inhales a bayonet. [illustration: when a gal gets stuck on you they will tell you everything they know.] but it don't seem fair to make love to them and pertend like i was nuts over them and then when i had learned all they was to know i would half to get rid of them and cast them to 1 side and god knows how many wounds i will leave behind me but probably as many as though i was a regular soldier or snipper but then i wouldn't feel so bad about it because it would be men and not girlies but everything goes in war fair as they say al and if uncle sam and gen. pershing asks me to do it i will do whatever they ask me and they can't nobody really hold it vs. me because of why i am doing it. but talking about snippers al i noticed today that i wasn't near as good as usual in the riffle practice and it was like as if i was haveing a slump like some of the boys does in baseball when they go along 5 or 6 days without finding out who is umpireing the bases and i am afraid that is how it would be with me in snipping i would be o. k. part of the time and the rest of the time i couldn't hit europe and maybe i would fall down when they was depending on me and then i would feel like a rummy so i guess i better not try and show up so good in practice even when i do feel o. k. because they might make a snipper out of me without knowing my weakness and i figure its something the matter with my eyes. besides al it don't seem like its a fair game to be pecking away at somebody that they can't see you and aren't looking for no supprise and its a whole lot different then fighting with a bayonet where its man to man and may the best man win. well al i guess i have told you all the news and things is going along about as usual and they don't seem to be no prospects of us overtakeing a section up to the front but its just train and train and train and if the ball clubs had a training trip like we been haveing they would be so tired by the 1 of may that they wouldn't run out a base on balls. yesterday we past by a flock of motor lauras that was takeing wounded back to a base hospital somewheres and alcock was talking to 1 of the drivers and he said that over 100% of the birds that's getting wounded and killed these days is the snippers and the boshs don't never rest till they find out where there nests is at and then they get all their best marksmens and aim at where they think the snipper has got his nest and then its good night snipper and he is either killed right out or looses a couple of legs or something. i certainly feel sorry for the boys that's wounded al and every time we see a bunch of them all us boys is crazy to get up there to the front and get even for what they done. well old pal i will half to get busy now and overlook the dope i have got on shaffer so as i will have everything in order for capt. seeley and i will write and let you know how things comes out. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 18._ friend al: well al they's a whole lot of birds that thinks they are wise and always trying to pull off something on somebody but once in a wile they pick out the wrong bird to pull it on and then the laugh is on the smart alex themself. well alcock and some of them thought they was putting up a game on me and was going to make me look like a monkey but before i get through with them al they will be the suckers and i will be giveing them the horse laugh but what i ought to do is bust them in the jaw and if i was running this war every bird that tried to pull off some practical joke to put a man in bad, i would give a lead shower in their honor some a. m. before breakfast. alcock was trying to make me believe that 1 of the boys in the co. name geo. shaffer was a german spy or something and they framed up a letter like as if he wrote it to van hindenburg giveing away secrets in german about our army and etc. but they made the mistake of signing his initials to the letter so when i come to think it over i seen it must be a fake because a bird that was a real spy wouldn't never sign their own name to a letter but they would sign john smith or something. but any way i had a hold of this letter and a peace of another letter that shaffer really did write it and i thought i would show them to capt. seeley and play it safe because they might be something in them after all and any way it would give him a good laugh. so yesterday i went and seen him and he says "well keefe what can i do for you?" so i said "you can't do nothing for me sir but this time i can do something for you. what would you think if i told you they was a trader and a german spy in your co." so he says "i would think you were crazy." so i said "i am afraid you will half to think so then but maybe you won't think i am so crazy when i show you the goods." so then al i pulled that 1st. peace of a letter on him and showed it to him and he read it and when he got through he says "well it looks suspicious all right. it looks like the man that wrote it was hacking up a big plot to spring a few dependents on his local board the next time they draft him." so i said "the bird that wrote that letter is a dutchman name geo. shaffer." so capt. seeley says "well i wish him all the luck in the world and a lot of little shaffers." so i said "yes but what about them x marks and all them letters without no words to them?" so he said "didn't you never correspond with a girl and put some of them xs down to the bottom of your letter?" so i says "i have wrote letters to a whole lot of girls but i never had to write nothing in ciphers because i wasn't never ashamed of anything i wrote." so he said "well your lady friends was all cheated then because this is ciphers all right but its the kind of messages they love to read because it means kisses." well al of course i knew it meant something like that but i didn't think a big truck horse like shaffer would make such a mushmellow out of himself. but anyway i said to capt. seeley i says "all right but what about them other initials without no words to go with them?" and he says "well that's some more ciphers but they's probably a little gal out in chi that don't half to look at no key to figure it out." so then i pulled the other letter on him the 1 in german and he also smiled when he read this one and finely he says "some of your pals has been playing a trick on you like when you come over on the ship and the best thing you can do is to tear the letters up and keep it quite and don't leave nobody know you fell for it. and now i have got a whole lot to tend to so good by." so that's all that was said between us and i come away and come back to quarters and alcock and 2 or 3 of the other boys was there and alcock knew where i had been and i suppose he had told the other birds and they was all set to give me the mary ha ha but i beat them to it. "well alcock" i says when i come in "you are some joke smith but you wouldn't think you was so funny if i punched your jaw." so he turned kind of pail but he forced a smile and says "well i guess the vin blank is on you this time." so i said "you won't get no vin blank off me but what you are libel to get is a wallop in the jaw." so he says "you crabbed at me a wile ago for not takeing a joke but it looks like you was the one that couldn't take them now." so i said "what i would like to take is a poke at your nose." so that shut him up and they didn't none of them get their laugh because i had them scared and if they had of laughed i would of made them swallow it. so after all al the laugh is on them because their gag fell dead and i guess the next time they try and pull some gag they will pick out some hick from some x roads to pull it on and not a bird that has traveled all over the big leagues and seen all they is to see. well al i am tickled to death i won't half to give up my uniform and snoop around paris like a white wings double crossing women and spying and etc. and even if the whole thing hadn't of been just a joke i was going to ask capt. seeley to not reccomend me to no int. dept. but jest leave me be where i am at so as when the time comes i can fight fair like man to man and not behind no woman's skirts like a cur. so you see al everything is o. k. after all and the laugh is on alcock and his friends because they was the ones that expected to do all the laughing but instead of that i made a monkey out of them. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 23._ friend al: well al if you would see my face you would think i had been attending a barrage or something or else i had been in a bar room fight only of course if it was a fair fight i wouldn't be so kind of marred up like i am. but i had a accident al and fell over a bunk and lit on the old bean and the result is al that i have got a black eye and a bad nose and my jaw is swole a little and my ears feels kind of dull like so i guess the ladys wouldn't call me handsome jack if they seen me but it will be all o. k. in a few days and i will be the same old jack. but i will tell you how it come off. i was setting reading a letter from florrie that all as she said in it was that she had boughten herself a new suit that everybody says was the cutest she ever had on her back just like i give a dam because by the time i see her in it she will of gave it to little al's swede. but any way i was reading this letter when in come shaffer the bird that was mixed up in that little gag about the fake spy and he come up to me and says "well you big snake who's male are you reading now?" well al him calling me big is like i would say hello jumbo to a flee. but any way i says "my own male and who and the he--ll male would i be reading?" so he said "well its hard to tell because you stole some of mine and read it and not only that but you showed it to the whole a. e. f. so now stand up and take what's comeing to you." well al i thought he was just kidding so i says "i come over here to fight germans and not 1 of my own pals." so he says "don't call me no pal, but if you come to fight germans now is your chance because you say i'm 1 of them." well he kind of made a funny motion like he wanted to spar or wrestle or something and i thought he meant it in a friendly way like we sometimes pull off a rough house once in a wile so i stood up but before i had a chance to take holds with him he cut loose at me with his fists doubled up and i kind of triped or something and fell over a bench and i must have hit something sharp on the way down and i kind of got scratched up but they are only scratchs and don't amt. to nothing. only i wished i knew he had of been serious and i would of made a punching bag out of him and you can bet that the next time he wants to start something i won't wait to see if he is jokeing but i will tear into him and he will think he run into a minnie weffers. well i suppose alcock was sore at me for getting the best of him and not falling for his gag and he was afraid to tackle me himself and he told big shaffer a peck of lies about some dam letter or something and said i stole it and it made shaffer sore and no wonder because who wouldn't be sore if they thought somebody was reading their male. but a man like shaffer that if he stopped a shell the dutchmens would half to move back a ways so as they would be room enough in france to bury him hasn't got no right to pick on a smaller man especially when i wasn't feeling good on acct. of something i eat but at that al size don't make no difference and its the bird that's got the nerve and knows how that can knock them dead and if shaffer had of gave me any warning he would of been the 1 that is scratched up instead of i though i guess he is to lucky to trip over a kit bag and fall down and cut himself. but my scratchs don't really amt. to nothing al and in a few days i will be like new. your pal, jack. * * * * * _somewheres in france, april 25._ friend al: well old pal i have got some big news for you now. we been ordered up to the front and its good by to this class d burg and now for some real actions and i am tickled to death and i only hope the dutchmens will loose their minds and try and start something up on the section where we are going to and i can't tell you where its at al but you keep watching the papers and even if the boshs don't start nothing maybe we will start something on our own acct. and the next thing you know you will read where we have got them on the lincoln highway towards russia and believe me al we won't half to stop every little wile to bring up no van hindenburg but we will run them ragged and they say the germans is the best singers and when they all bust out with comrades they will make the great lakes band sound like the russia artillery. well al i am so excited i can't write much and i have got a 100 things to tend to so i will half to cut this letter short. well some of the other birds like alcock and them is pertending like they was tickled to death to but believe me al if the orders was changed all of a sudden and they told us we was going to stay here till the duration of the war we wouldn't half to call on the engrs. to dam their tear ducks. but they pertend like they are pleased and keep whistleing so as they won't blubber and today they all laughed their heads off at something that come out in the co. paper that some of the boys gets out but they laughed like they was nervous instead of enjoying it. well what come out in the paper was supposed to be a joke on me and if they think its funny they are welcome and i would send the paper to you that its in only i haven't got only the 1 copy so i will copy it down and you can see for yourself what a screen it is. well they's 1 peace that's got up to look like it was the casuality list in some regular newspaper and it says: wounded in action privates jack keefe, chicago, ill. (very) and then they's another peace that reads like this: decorated "the company has won its first war honors and private jack keefe is the lucky dog. private keefe has been decorated by gen. george shaffer of the 4th. dachshunds for extreme courage and cleverness in showing up a dangerous nest of spies. keefe was hit four times by large caliber shells before he could say surrender. he was decorated with the order of the schwarz auge, the order of the rot nase and the order of the blumenkohl ohren, besides which a right cross was hung on his jaw. private keefe takes his honors very modestly, no one having even heard him mention them except in stifled tones during the night." well al all right if they can find something to amuse themself and they need it i guess. but they better remember that they's plenty of time for the laugh to be on the other foot before this war is over. your pal, jack. chapter v sammy boy _in the trenchs, may 6._ friend al: well al i haven't wrote you no letter for a long wile and i suppose maybe you think something might of happened to me or something. well old pal they hasn't nothing happened and i only wished they would because anything would be better than laying around here and i would rather stop a shell and get spread all over europe then lay around here and die a day at a time you might say. well i would of wrote you before only we was on the march and by the time night come around my dogs fret me so bad i couldn't think of nothing else and when they told us we was comeing up here i thought of course they would send us up in motor lauras or something and not wear us all out before we got here but no it was drill every ft. of the way and i said to johnny alcock the night we got here that when they was sending us up here to die they might at lease give us a ride and he says no because when they send a man to the electric chair they don't push him up there in a go cart but they make him get there on his own dogs. so i said "yes but he travels light and he don't half to go far and when he gets there they's a chair waiting for him to set down in it but they load us up like a troop ship and walk us 1/2 way to sweden and when we finely get here we can either remain standing or lay down in a mud puddle and tuck ourself in." and another thing al i thought they meant we was going right in the front line trenchs where a man has got a chance to see some fun but where we are at is what they call the reserve trenchs and we been here 3 days all ready and have got to stay here 7 days more that is unless they should something happen to the regt. that's up ahead of us in the front line and if they get smashed up or something and half to be sent back to the factory then we will jump right in and take their place and i don't wish them no bad luck but i wished they would get messed up tonight at lease enough so as they would half to come out for repairs but it don't look like they was much chance of that as we are on a quite section where they hasn't been nothing doing since the war begin you might say but of course jerry is raising he--ll all over the front now and here is where he will probably pick on next and believe me al we will give him a welcome. but the way things is mapped out now we will be here another wk. yet and then up in the front row for 10 days and then back to the rest billets for a rest but they say the only thing that gets a rest back there is your stomach but believe me your stomach gets a holiday right here without going to no rest billets. well i thought they would be some excitement up here but its like church but everybody says just wait till we get up in front and then we will have plenty of excitement well i hope they are telling the truth because its sure motonus here and about all as we do is have inspections and scratch. as johnny alcock says france may of lose a whole lot of men in this war but they don't seem to of been no casualitys amist the cuties. well al they's plenty of other bugs here as well as the kinds that itchs and i mean some of the boys themselfs and here is where it comes out on them is where they haven't nothing to do only lay around and they's 1 bird that his name is harry friend but the boys calls him the chicken hawk and its not only on acct. of him loveing the ladys but he is all the wile writeing letters to them and he is 1 of these fancy writers that has to wind up before he comes down on the paper with a word and between every word he sores up and swoops down again like he was over a barn yard and sometimes the boys set around and bets on how many wirls he will take before he will get within writeing distants of the paper. well any way he must get a whole lot of letters wrote if he answers all the ones that comes for him because every time you bump into him he pulls one on you that he just got from some gal that's nuts about him somewheres in the u. s. and its always a different 1 and i bet the stores that sells service stars kept open evenings the wk. this bird enlisted in the draft. but today it was a french gal that he had a letter from her some dame in chalons and he showed me her picture and she's some queen al and he is pulling for us to be sent there on our leave after we serve our turn up here and i don't blame him for wanting to be where she's at and i wished they was some baby doll that i could pal around with in what ever burg they ship us to. but i don't know nobody al and besides i'm a married man so no flirting with the parley vous for me and i suppose i will spend most of my time with the 2 vin sisters and a headache. your pal, jack. [illustration: every time you bump into him he pulls a letter on you.] * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 9._ friend al: well al i was talking to 1 of the boys jack brady today and we was talking about harry friend and i told jack about him getting a letter from this french girlie at chalons and how he was pulling for us to go there on our leave so as he could see her so jack said he didn't think we would go there but they would probably send us to 1 of the places where we could get a bath as god knows we will need one and they will probably send us to aix les bains or nice or o. d. cologne. so i said i didn't care where we was sent as they wouldn't be no gal waiting for me in none of them towns so jack says it was my own fault if they wasn't as all these places was full of girlies that was there for us to dance with them and etc. and the officers had all their names and addresses and the way to do was write to 1 of them and tell her when you was comeing and would she like to show you around and he said he would see 1 of the lieuts. that he stands pretty good with him and see what he could do for me. well al i told him to go ahead as i thought it was just a joke but sure enough he showed up after a wile and he said the lieut. didn't only have 1 name left but she was a queen and he give me her name and address and its miss marie antoinette 14 rue de nez rouge, o. d. cologne. well al i didn't have nothing else to do so i set down and wrote her a note and i will coppy down what i wrote: "_dear miss antoinette_: i suppose you will be supprised to hear from me and i hope you won't think i am some fresh bird writeing you this letter for a joke or something but i am just 1 of uncle sam's soldiers from the u. s. a. and am now in the trenchs fighting for your country. well miss antoinette we expect to be here about 2 wks. more and then we will have a leave off for a few days and some of the boys thinks we may spend it in your city and i thought maybe you might be good enough to show me around when we get there. i was a baseball pitcher back in the u. s. a. tall and athletic build and i don't suppose you know what baseball is but thought maybe you would wonder what i look like. well if you aren't busy when we get there i will hope to see you and if you are agreeable drop me a line here and i will sure look you up when i get there." * * * * * so then i give her my name and where to reach me and of course they won't nothing come out of it al only a man has got to amuse yourself some way in a dump like this or they would go crazy. but it would sure be a horse on me if she was to answer the letter and say she would be glad to see me and then of course i would half to write and tell her i was a married man or else not write to her at all but of course they won't nothing come out of it and its a good bet we won't never see cologne as that was just a guess on brady's part. well al things is going along about like usual with nothing doing only inspections and etc. and telling us how to behave when we get up there in the front row and not to stick our head over the top in the day time and you would think we was the home guards or something and at that i guess the home guards is seeing as much of the war as we are in this old ditch but they say it will be different when we get up in front and believe me i hope so and they can't send us there to soon to suit me. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 11._ friend al: well al here we are up in the front line trenchs and we come in here 2 days ahead of time but that's the way they run everything in the army except feed you but they don't never do nothing when they say they are going to and i suppose they want a man to get use to haveing things come by supprise so as it won't interfere with your plans if you get killed a couple days before you was looking for it. well al we are looking for it now most any day and this may be the last letter you will ever get from your old pal and you may think i am kidding when i say that but 1 of the boys told me a wile ago that he heard capt. seeley telling 1 of the lieuts. that the reason we come in here ahead of time was on acct. of them expecting the dutchmans to make their next drive on this section and the birds that we are takeing their place was a bunch of yellow stiffs that was hard of hearing except when they was told to retreat and gen. pershing figured that if they was up here when jerry made a attack they would turn around and open up a drive on africa and the bosh has been going through the rest of the line like it was held by the ladies aid and gen. foch says they have got to be stopped so we are elected al and you know what that means and it means we can't retreat under no conditions but stay here till we get killed. so you see i wasn't kidding al and it looks like it was only a question of a few days or maybe not that long but at that i guess most of the boys would just as leave stop a dutch bayonet as to lay around in this he--ll hole. believe me al this is a fine resort to spend 10 days at what with the mud and the perfume and a whole menajery useing you for a parade grounds. well capt. seeley wants us to get all the rest we can now on acct. of what's comeing off after a wile but believe me i am not going to oversleep myself in this he--ll hole because suppose jerry would pick out the time wile you was asleep to come over and pay us a visit and they's supposed to be some of the boys on post duty to watch all night and keep their eye pealed and wake us up if they's something stiring but i have been in hotels a lot of times and left a call with some gal that didn't have nothing to do only pair her finger nails and when the time come ring me up but even at that she forgot it so what chance is they for 1 of these sentrys to remember and wake everybody up when maybe they's 5 or 6 dutchmens divideing him into building lots with their bayonet or something. so as far as i am conserned i will try and keep awake wile i can because it looks like when we do go to sleep we will stay asleep several yrs. and even if we are lucky enough to get back to them rest billets we can sleep till the cows come home a specially if they give us some more of them entertainments like we had in camp. well al before we got here i thought they would be so much fireing back and 4th. up here that a man couldn't hear themself think but i guess jerry is saveing up for the big show though every little wile they try and locate our batterys and clean them out and once in so often 1 of our big guns replys but as johnny alcock says you couldn't never accuse our artillrys from being to gabby and i guess we are lucky they are pretty near speechless as they might take a notion to fire short but any way a little wile ago 1 of our guns sent a big shell over and johnny says what and the he--ll can that be and i said its a shell from 1 of our guns and he says he thought they fired 1 yesterday. well as i say here we are with 10 days of it stareing us in the eye and the cuties for company and the only way we can get out of here ahead of time is on a stretcher and i wouldn't mind that al but as i say i want to be awake when my time comes because if i am going to get killed in this war i want to have some idear who done it. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 14._ friend al: well al i got the supprise of my life today when jack brady handed me a letter that had came for me and that's supprise enough itself but all the more when i opened it up and seen who it was from. well it was from that baby in cologne and i will coppy it down as it is short and you can see for yourself what she says. well here it is: "_dear mr. keefe_: your letter just reached me and you can bet i was glad to get it. i sure will be glad to see you when you come to cologne and i will be more than glad to show you the sights. this is some town and we sure will have a time when you get here. i am just learning to write english so please excuse mistakes but all i want to say is don't disappoint me but write when you will come so i can be all dressed up comme un cheval. avec l'amour und kussen. "marie antoinette." you see al they's part of it wrote in french and that last part means with love and kisses. well i guess that letter i wrote her must have went over strong and any ways it looks like she didn't exactly hate me eh al? well it looks like i would half to write to her back and tell her i am a married man and they can't be no flirting between her and i but if she wants to be a good pal and show me around o. k. and no harm done. well i hope she takes it that way because it sure will seem good to talk to a gal again that can talk a little english and not la la la all the wile but of course its a good bet that i won't never see her because we are just as libel to go somewheres else as cologne though brady seems to think that's where we are headed for. well time will tell and in the mean wile we are libel to get blowed to he--ll and gone and then of course it would be good by sweet marie but i was supprised to hear from her as i only wrote to her in fun and didn't think nothing would come from it but i guess harry friend isn't the only lady killer in the u. s. army and if i was 1 of the kind that shows off all their letters i guess i have got 1 now to show. a side from all that al we was supposed to have our chow a hr. ago but no chow and some of the boys says its on acct. of our back arears being under fire and you see the kitchens is way back of the front lines and the boys on chow detail is supposed to bring our food up here but when the back arears is under fire they are scared to bring it up or they might maybe run into some bad luck on the way. how is that for fine dope al when a whole regt. starves to death because a few yellow stiffs is afraid that maybe a shell might light near them and spill a few beans. brady says maybe they are trying to starve us so as we will get mad and fight harder when the time comes like in the old days when they use to have fights between men and lions in reno and rome and for days ahead they wouldn't give the lions nothing to eat so as they would be pretty near wild when they got in reno and would make a rush at the gladaters that was supposed to fight them and try and eat them up on acct. of being so near starved. well al i would half to be good and hungry before i would want to eat a dutchman a specially after they been in the trenchs a wile. but any way it don't make a whole lot of differents if the chow gets here or not because when it comes its nothing only a eye dropper full of soup and coffee and some bread that i would hate to have some of it fall on my toe and before we left the u. s. everybody was trying to preserve food so as the boys in france would have plenty to eat but if they sent any of the preserves over here the boat they come on must of stopped a torpedo and i hope the young mackerels won't make themselfs sick on sweets. jokeing to 1 side this is some climate al and they don't never a day pass without it raining and i use to think the weather profits back home had a snap that all they had to do was write down rain or snow or fair and even if they was wrong they was way up there where you couldn't get at them but they have got a tough job when you look at a french weather profit and as soon as he learns the french for rain he can open up an office and he don't half to hide from nobody because he can't never go wrong though alcock says they have got a dry season here that begins the 14 of july and ends that night but its a holiday so the weather profit don't half to monkey with it. any way its so dark here all the wile that you can't hardly tell day and night only at night times the dutchmens over across the way sends up a flare once in a wile to light things up so as they can see if they's any of us prowling around nobody's land and speaking about nobody's land brady says its the ground that lays between the german trenchs and the vermin trenchs but jokeing to 1 side if it wasn't for these here flares we wouldn't know they was anybody over in them other trenchs and when we come in here they was a lot of talk about jerry sending over a patrol to find out who we was but it looks like he wasn't interested. but all and all al its nothing like i expected up here and all we have seen of the war is when a shell or 2 busts in back of us or once in a wile 1 of their areoplanes comes over and 1 of ours chases them back and sometimes they have a battle but they always manage to finish it where we can't see it for the fear we might enjoy ourselfs. well it looks like we would half to go to bed on a empty stomach if you could call it bed and speaking about stomach brady says they's a old saying that a army travels on their stomach but a cutie covers a whole lot more ground. but as i say when you don't get your chow you don't miss much only it kills a little time and everybody is sick in tired of doing nothing and 1 of the boys was saying tonight he wished the dutchmens would attack so as to break the motley and alcock said that if they did attack he hoped they would do it with gas as his nose needed a change of air. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 16._ friend al: well old pal i come within a ace you might say of not being here to write you this letter and you may think that's bunk but wait till you hear what come off. well it seems our scout planes brought back word yesterday that the dutch regt. over across the way had moved out and another regt. had took their place and it seems when they make a change like that our gens. always trys to find out who the new rivals is so the orders come yesterday that we was to get up a patrol party for last night and go over and take a few prisoners so as we would know what regt. we was up vs. well as soon as the news come out they was some of the boys volunteered to go in the patrol and they was only a few going so i didn't feel like noseing myself in and maybe crowding somebody out that was set on going and besides what and the he--ll do i care what regt. is there as long as its germans and its like you lived in a flat and the people across the hall moved out and some people moved in why as long as you knowed they wasn't friends of yours you wouldn't rush over and ring their door bell and say who the he--ll are you but you would wait till they had time to get some cards printed and stick 1 in the mail box. so its like i told alcock that when the boys come back they would tell the col. that the people opp. us was germans and the col. would be supprised because he probably thought all the wile that they was the idaho boy scouts or something. but at that i pretty near made up my mind at the last minute to volunteer just to break the motley you might say but it was to late and i lost out. well al the boys that went didn't come back and i hope the col. is satisfied now because he has lost that many men and he knows just as much as he did before namely that they's some germans across the way and either they killed our whole bunch or took them a prisoner and instead of us learning who they are they found out who we are because the boys that's gone is all from our regt. and its just like as if we went over and give them the information they wanted to save them the trouble of comeing over here and getting it. well it don't make a man feel any happier to think about them poor boys and god only knows what happened to them if they are prisoners or dead and some of them was pals of mine to but the worst part of it is that the word will be sent home that they are missing in actions and their wifes won't know what become of them if they got any and i can't help from thinking i might of been with them only for not wanting to crowd somebody out and if i had of went my name would be in the casuality list as missing in actions but i guess at that if florrie picked up the paper and seen it she wouldn't know it was her husband its so long since she wrote it on a envelop. well al they's other gals in the world besides florrie and of course its to late to get serious with them when a man has got a wife and kid but believe me i am going to enjoy myself if they happen to pick out cologne to send us to and if the little gal down there is 1 of the kind that can be good pals with a man without looseing her head over me i will sure have a good time but i suppose when she sees me she will want to begin flirting or something and then i will half to pass her up before anybody gets hurt. well any way i wrote her a friendly letter today and just told her to keep me in mind and i stuck a few french words in it for a gag but i will coppy down what i wrote the best i can remember it so you will know what i wrote. here it is: _mon cher marie_: your note recd. and you can bet i was mighty glad to hear from you and learn you would show me around cologne. that is if they send us there and if we get out of here alive. well you said you was just learning english well i will maybe be able to help you along and you can maybe help me with the french so you see it will be 50 50. well i sure hope they send us to cologne and i will let you know the minute i find out where they are going to send us and maybe even if its somewheres else couldn't you visit there at the same time and maybe i could see you. well girlie we will be out of here in less then a wk. now if we don't have no bad luck and you can bet i won't waist no time getting to where ever they send us and i hope its cologne. so in the mean wile don't take no wood nickles and don't get impatient but be a good girlie and save up your loving for me. tres beaucoup from your sammy boy, jack keefe. that's what i wrote her al and i bet she can't hardly wait to hear if i'm comeing or not but i don't suppose they's any chance of them sending us there and a specially if they find out that anybody wants to go there but maybe she can fix it to meet me somewheres else and any ways they won't be no lifes lost if i never see her and maybe it would be better that way. but a man has got to write letters or do something to keep your mind off what happened to them poor birds that went in the patrol and a specially when i come so near being 1 of them. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 18._ friend al: well al if i am still alive yet its not because i laid back and didn't take no chances and i wished some of the baseball boys that use to call me yellow when i was in there pitching had of seen me last night and i guess they would of sang a different song only in the 1st. place i was where they couldn't nobody see me and secondly they would of been so scared they would of choked to death if they tried to talk let alone sing. but wait till you hear about it. well yesterday p. m. sargent crane asked me how i liked life in the trenchs and i said o. k. only i got tired on acct. of they not being no excitement or nothing to do and he says oh they's plenty to do and i could go out and help the boys fix up the bob wire in front of the trenchs like we done back in the training camp. so i said i didn't see how they could be any fixing needed as they hadn't nothing happened on this section since the war started you might say and the birds that was here before us had plenty of time to fix it if it needed fixing. so he says "well any ways they's no excitement to fixing the wire but if you was looking for excitement why didn't you go with that patrol the other night?" so i said "because i didn't see no sence to trying to find out who was in the other trenchs when we know they are germans and that's all we need to know. wait till they's a real job and you won't see me hideing behind nobody." so he says "i've got a real job for you tonight and you can go along with ted phillips to the listening post." well al a listening post is what they call a little place they got dug out way over near the german trenchs and its so close you can hear them talk sometimes and you are supposed to hear if they are getting ready to pull something and report back here so as they won't catch us asleep. well i was wild to go just for something to do but i been haveing trouble with my ears lately probably on acct. of the noise from so much shell fire or something but any ways i have thought a couple times that i was getting a little deef so i thought i better tell him the truth so i said "i would be tickled to death to go only i don't know if i ought to or not because i don't hear very good even in english and of course jerry would be telling their plans in german and suppose i didn't catch on to it and i would feel like a murder if they started a big drive and i hadn't gave my pals no warning." so he says "don't worry about that as phillips has got good ears and understands german and he has been there before only in a job like that a man wants company and you are going along for company." well before we snuck out there sargent crane called us to 1 side and says "you boys is takeing a big chance and phillips knows what to do but you want to remember keefe to keep quite and not make no noise or talk to each other because if jerry finds out you are there we probably won't see you again." well al it finely come time for us to go and we went and if anybody asks you how to spend a pleasant evening don't steer them up against a listening post with a crazy man. well i suppose you think its pretty quite there at home nights and i use to think so to but believe me al, bedford at 2 o'clock in the a. m. is a bowling alley along the side of 1 of these here listening posts. it may sound funny but i would of gave a month's pay if somebody would of shot off a fire cracker or anything to make a noise. there was the bosh trench about 20 yds. from us but not a sound out of them and a man couldn't help from thinking what if they had of heard us out there and they was getting ready to snoop up on us and that's why they was keeping so still and it got so as i could feel 1 of their bayonets burrowing into me and i am no quitter al when it comes to fighting somebody you can see but when you have got a idear that somebody is cralling up on you and you haven't no chance to fight back i would like to see the bird that could enjoy themself and besides suppose my ears had went back on me worse then i thought and the dutchmens was realy makeing a he--ll of a racket but i couldn't hear them and maybe they was getting ready to come over the top and i wouldn't know the differents and all of a sudden they would lay a garage and dash out behind it and if they didn't kill us we would be up in front of the court's marshal for not warning our pals. well as i say i would of gave anything for some one to of fired off a gun or made some noise of some kind but when this here phillips finely opened up his clam and spoke i would of jumped a mile if they had of been any room to jump anywheres. well the sargent had told us not to say nothing but all of a sudden right out loud this bird says this is a he--ll of a war. well i motioned back at him to shut up but of course he couldn't see me and he thought i hadn't heard what he said so he said it over again so then i thought maybe he hadn't heard the sargent's orders so i whispered to him that he wasn't supposed to talk. well al they wasn't no way of keeping him quite and he says "that's all bunk because i been out here before and talked my head off and nothing happened." so i says well if you have got to talk you don't half to yell it. so then he tried to whisper al but his whisper sounded like a jazz record with a crack in it so he says i'm not yelling i am whispering so i said yes i have heard hughey jennings whisper like that out on the lines. so he shut up for a wile but pretty soon he busted out again and this time he was louder then ever and he asked me could i sing and i said no i couldn't so then he says well you can holler can't you so i said i suppose i could so he says "well i know how we could play a big joke on them square heads. lets the both of us begin yelling like a indian and they will hear us and they will think they's a whole crowd of us here and they will begin bombing us or something and think they are going to kill a whole crowd of americans but it will only be us 2 and we can give them the laugh for waisting their ammunitions." well al i seen then that i was parked there with a crazy man and for a wile i didn't say nothing because i was scared that i might say something that would encourage him some way so i just shut up and finely he says what is the matter ain't you going to join me? so i said i will join you in the jaw in a minute if you don't shut your mouth and then he quited down a little, but every few minutes he would have another swell idear and once he asked me could i imitate animals and i said no so he says he could mew like a cow and he had heard the boshs was so hard up for food and they would rush out here thinking they was going to find a cow but it wouldn't be no cow but it would be a horse on them. well you can imagine what i went through out there with a bird like that and i thought more then once i would catch it from him and go nuts myself but i managed to keep a hold of myself and the happiest minute of my life was when it was time for us to crall back in our dug outs but at that i can't remember how we got back here. this a. m. sargent crane asked me what kind of a time did we have and i told him and i told him this here phillips was squirrel meat and he says phillips is just as sane as anybody usualy only everybody that went out on the listening post was effected that way by the quite and its a wonder i didn't go nuts to. well its a wonder i didn't al and its a good thing i kept my head and kept him from playing 1 of those tricks as god knows what would of happened and the entire regt. might of been wipped out. but i hope they don't wish no more listening post on me but if they do you can bet i will pick my own pardner and it won't be no nut and no matter what sargent crane says if this here phillips is sane we're stopping at palm beach. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 19._ friend al: well old pal don't say nothing about this not even to bertha what i am going to tell you about as some people might not understand and a specially a woman and might maybe think i wasn't acting right towards florrie or something though when a man is married to a woman that he has been in france pretty near 4 mos. and she has wrote him 3 letters i don't see where she would have a sqawk comeing at whatever i done but of course i am not going to do nothing that i wouldn't just as leave tell her about it only i want to tell her myself and when i get a good ready. well i guess i told you we was only supposed to stay here in the front line 10 days and then they will somebody come and releive us and take our place and then we go to the rest billets somewheres and lay around till its our turn to come up here again. well al we been in the front line now eight days and that means we won't only be here 2 days more so probably we will get out of here the day after tomorrow night. well up to today we didn't have no idear where we was going to get sent as they's several places where the boys can go on leave like aix le bains and nice and etc. and we didn't know which 1 it would be. so today we was talking about it and i said i wished i knew for sure and jack brady stands pretty good with 1 of the lieuts. so he says he would ask him right out. so he went and asked him and the lieut. told him cologne. well al i hadn't no sooner found out when 1 of the boys hands me a letter that just come and it was a letter from this baby doll that i told you about that's in cologne and i will coppy down the letter so you can see for yourself what she says and here it is al: _dear sammy boy_: i was tres beaucoup to get your letter and will sure be glad to see you and can hardly wait till you get here. don't let them send you anywhere else as cologne is the prettiest town in france and the liveliest and we will sure have some time going to shows etc. and i hope you bring along beaucoup francs. well i haven't time to write you much of a letter as i have got to spend the afternoon at the dressmaker's. you see i am getting all dolled up for my sammy boy. but be sure and let me know when you are going to get here and when you reach cologne jump right in a noir et blanc taxi and come up to the house. you know the number so come along sammy and make it toot sweet. yours with tres beaucoup, marie. so that's her letter al and it looks like i was going to be in right in old o. d. cologne and it sure does look like fate was takeing a hand in the game when things breaks this way and when i wrote to this gal the first time i didn't have no idear of ever seeing her but the way things is turning out it almost seems like we was meant to meet each other. well al i only hope she has got some sence and won't get to likeing me to well or of course all bets is off but if we can just be good pals and go around to shows etc. together i don't see where i will be doing anything out of the way. only as i say don't say nothing about it to bertha or nobody else as people is libel to not understand and i guess most of them women back in the u. s. thinks that when a man has been up at the front as long as we have and then when he gets a few days leave he ought to take a running hop step and jump to the nearest phonograph and put on a rodeheaver record. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 20._ friend al: well al just a line and it will probably be the last time i will write you from the trenchs for a wile as our time is up tomorrow night and the next time i write you it will probably be from cologne and i will tell you what kind of a time they show us there and all about it. i just got through writeing a note to the little gal there telling her i would get there as soon as possible but i couldn't tell her when that would be as i don't know how far it is or how we get there but brady said he thought it was about 180 miles so i suppose they will make us walk. well talk about a quite section and they hasn't even been a gun went off all day or no areoplanes or nothing and here we thought we was going to see a whole lot of excitement and we haven't fired a shot or throwed a grenade or even saw a german all the wile we was here and we are just like when we come only for those poor birds that went on that wild goose chase and didn't come back and they's been some talk about sending another patrol over to get revenge for those poor boys but i guess they won't nothing come of it. it would be like sending good money after bad is the way i look at it. several of the boys has been calling me sammy boy today and i signed my name that way in 1 of the notes i wrote that little gal and i suppose who ever censored it told some of the boys about it and now they are trying to kid me. well al i don't see where a censor has got any license to spill stuff like that but they's no harm done and they can laugh at me all they want to wile we are here as i will be the 1 that does the laughing when we get to cologne. and i guess a whole lot of them will wish they was this same sammy boy when they see me paradeing up and down the blvd. with the bell of the ball. o you sweet marie. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, may 22._ friend al: well al its all off and we are here yet and what is more we are libel to be here till the duration of the war if we don't get killed and believe me i would welcome death rather then stay in this he--ll hole another 10 days and from now on i am going to take all the chances they is to take and the sooner they finish me i will be glad of it and it looks like it might come tonight al as i have volunteered to go along with the patrol that's going over and try and get even for what they done to our pals. well old pal it was understood when we come up here that we would be here 10 days and yesterday was the 10th day we was here. well i happened to say something yesterday to sargent crane about what time was we going and he says where to and i said i thought our time was up and we was going to get releived. so he says "who is going to releive us and what and the he--ll do you want to be releived of?" so i said i understood they didn't only keep a regt. in the front line 10 days and then took them out and sent them to a rest billet somewheres. so he says what do you call this but a rest billet? so then i asked him how long we had to stay here and he said "well it may be a day or it may be all summer. but if we get ordered out in a hurry it won't be to go to no rest billet but it will be to go up to where they are fighting the war." so i made the remark that i wished somebody had of tipped me off as i had fixed up a kind of a date thinking we would be through here in 10 days. so he asked me where my date was at and i said cologne. so then he kind of smiled and said "o and when was you planing to start?" so i said "i was figureing on starting tonight." so he waited a minute and then he said "well i don't know if i can fix it for you tonight or tomorrow night, but they's some of the boys going to start in that direction one of them times and i guess you can go along." well al i suppose alcock and brady and them has been playing another 1 of their gags on me and i hope they enjoyed it and as far as i am conserned they's no harm done. cologne al is way back of the german lines and when sargent crane said they was some of the boys starting in that direction he meant this here patrol. so i'm in on it al and they didn't go last night but tonight's the big night. and some of the boys is calling me sammy boy and trying to make a monkey out of me but the smart alex that's doing it isn't none of them going along on this raid and that's just what a man would expect from them. because they's a few of us al that come across the old puddle to fight and the rest of them thinks they are at the young peoples picnic. your pal, jack. chapter vi simple simon _in the trenchs, may 29._ friend al: well al we have been haveing a lot of fun with a bird name jack simon only the boys calls him simple simon and if you seen him you wouldn't ask why because you would know why as soon as you seen him without asking why as he keeps his mouth open all the wile so as he will be ready to swallow whatever you tell him as you can tell him anything and he eats it up. so the boys has been stuffing him full of storys of all kinds and he eats them all up and you could tell him the reason they had the bob wire out in front was to scratch yourself on it when the cuties was useing you for a race track and he would eat it up. well when we come in here and took over this section this bird was sick and i don't know what ailed him only it couldn't of been brain fever but any way he didn't join us in here till the day before yesterday but ever since he joined us the boys has been stuffing him full and enjoying themself at his expenses. well the 1st. thing he asked me was if we had saw any actions since we been here and i told him about a raid we was on the other night before he come and we layed down a garage and then snuck over to the german trenchs and jumped into them trying to get a hold of some prisoners but we couldn't find head or tale of no germans where our bunch jumped in as they had ducked and hid somewheres when they found out we was comeing. so he says he wished he could of been along as he might of picked up some souvenirs over in their trenchs. that's 1 of his bugs al is getting souvenirs as he is 1 of these here souvenir hounds that it don't make no differents to him who wins the war as long as he can get a ship load of junk to carry it back home and show it off. so i told johnny alcock and some of the other boys about simon wishing he could of got some souvenirs so they framed up on him and begin selling him junk that they told him they had picked it up over in the german trenchs and alcock blowed some cigarette smoke in a bottle and corked it up and told him it was german tear gas and simon give him 8 franks for it and jack brady showed him a couple of laths tied together with a peace of wire and told him it was a part of the areoplane that belonged to guy meyer the french ace that brought down so many dutchmans before they finely got him and brady said he hated to part with it as he had took it off a german prisoner that he brought in but if simon thought it was worth 20 franks he could have it. so simon bought it of him and wanted to know all about how brady come to get the prisoner and of course brady had to make it up as we haven't saw a german let alone take them a prisoner since we was back in the training arears and wouldn't know they was any only for their artillery and throwing up rockets at night and snipping at a man every time you go out on a wire party or something. but any way simon eats it up whatever you pull on him and some times i feel sorry for him and feel like tipping him off but the boys fun would be spoiled and believe me they need some kind of sport up here or pretty soon we would all be worse off then simon and we would be running around fomenting at the mouth. well al i wished you would write once in a wile if its only a line as a man likes to get mail once in a wile and i haven't heard from florrie for pretty near a month and then all as she said was that the reason she hadn't wrote was because she wasn't feeling the best and i suppose she got something in her eye but anything for an excuse to not write and you would think i had stepped outdoors to wash the windows instead of being away from her since last december. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, june 4._ friend al: well al nothing doing as usual only patching things up once in a wile and it would be as safe here as picking your teeth if our artillery had a few brains as the germans wouldn't never pay no tension to us if our batterys would lay off them but we don't no sooner get a quite spell when our guns cuts loose and remind fritz that they's a war and then of course the dutchmens has got to pay for their board some way and they raise he--ll for a wile and make everybody cross but as far as i can see they don't nobody never get killed on 1 side or the other side but of course the shells mess things up and keeps the boys busy makeing repairs where if our artillery would keep their mouth shut why so would theirs and the boys wouldn't never half to leave their dice game only for chow. but from all as we hear i guess they's no dice game going on up on some of the other sections but they's another kind of a game going on up there and so far the dutchmens has got all the best of it but some of the boys says wait till the allys gets ready to strike back and they will make them look like a sucker and the best way to do is wait till the other side has wore themself out before you go back at them. well i told them i have had a lot of experience in big league baseball where they's stragety the same like in war but i never heard none of the big league managers tell their boys to not try and score till the other side had all the runs they was going to get and further and more it looked to me like when the germans did get wore out they could rest up again in the best hotel in paris. so johnny alcock says oh they won't never get inside of paris because the military police will stop them at the city limits and ask them for their pass and then where would they be? so i says tell that to simple simon and he shut up. speaking about simple simon what do you think they have got him believeing now. well they told him capt. seeley had sent a patrol over the other night to find out what ailed the germans that they never showed themself or started nothing against us and the patrol found out that van hindenburg had took all the men out of the section opp. us and sent them up to the war and left the trenchs opp. us empty so simon asked him why we didn't go over there and take them then and they told him because our trenchs was warmer on acct. of being farther south. i suppose they will be telling him the next thing that capt. seeley and ludendorf married sisters and the 2 of them has agreed to lay off each other. well al i am glad they have got somebody else to pick on besides me and of course they can have a lot more fun with simon as they's nothing to raw that he won't eat it up wile in my case i was to smart for them and just pretended like i fell for their gags as they would of been disappointed if i hadn't of and as i say somebody has got to furnish amusement in a he--ll hole like this or we would all be squirrel meat. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, june 7._ friend al: well al here is a hot 1 that they pulled on this simon bird today and it was all as i could do to help from busting out laughing while they was telling it to him. well it seems like he must of been thinking that over what they told him about they not being no germans in the trenchs over opp. to where we are at and it finely downed on him that if they wasn't nobody over there why who was throwing up them flares and rockets every night. so today he said to brady he says "didn't you birds tell me them trenchs over across the way was empty?" so brady says yes what of it. so simon says "well i notice they's somebody over there at night times or else who throws up them flares as they don't throw themselfs up." so brady says they had probably left a flare thrower over there to do that for them. but simon says they must of left a lot of flare throwers because the flares come from different places along the line. so then alcock cut in and says "yes but you will notice they don't come from different places at once and the bird that throws them gos from 1 place to another so as we will think the trenchs is full of germans." so simon says "they couldn't nobody go from 1 place to another place as fast as them flares shoots up from different places." so alcock says "no they couldn't nobody do it if they walked but the man that throws them flares don't walk because he hasn't got only 1 leg as his other leg was shot off early in the war. but van hindenburg is so hard up for men that even if you get a leg shot off as soon as the dr. mops up the mess and sticks on the court plaster they send the bird back in the war and put him on a job where you don't half to walk. so they stuck this old guy in the motorcycle dept. and now all as he does is ride up and down some quite section like this here all night and stop every so often and throw up a flare to make us think the place is dirty with germans." well al simon thought it over a wile and then asked alcock how a man could ride a motorcycle with only 1 leg and alcock says "why not because you don't half to peddle a motorcycle as they run themself." so simon says yes but how about it when you want to get off? so alcock says "what has a man's legs got to do with him getting off of a motorcycle as long as you have got your head to light on?" that is what they handed him al and they hadn't hardly no sooner then got through with that dose when brady begun on the souvenirs. first he asked him if he had got a hold of any new ones lately and simon says no he hadn't seen nobody that had any for sale and besides his jack was low so brady asked him how much did he have and he says about 4 franks. so brady says "well you can't expect anybody to come across with anything first class for no such chicken's food as that." so simon says well even if he had a pocket full of jack he couldn't buy nothing with it when they wasn't nothing to buy. then brady asked him if he had saw the german speegle ted phillips had picked up and simon says no so brady went and got phillips and after a wile he come back with him and phillips said he had the speegle in his pocket and he would show it to us if we promised to be carefull and not jar it out of his hands wile he was showing it as he wouldn't have it broke for the world. so simon stood there with his eyes popping out and phillips pulled the speegle out of his pocket and it wasn't nothing only a dirty little looking glass that you could pretty near crall through the cracks in it and all the boys remarked what a odd little speegle it was and they hadn't never saw 1 like it before and etc. and finely simon couldn't keep his clam shut no longer so he asked phillips how much he would take for it. well phillips says it wasn't for sale as speegles was scarce in germany on acct. of the war and that was why the dutchmens always looked like a bum when you took them a prisoner. so simon asked him what price he would set on it suppose he would sell it and phillips says about 8 franks. well simon got out all his jack and they wasn't only 4 franks and he showed it to phillips and said if he would take 10 franks for the speegle he would give him 4 franks down and the other 6 franks when he got hold of some jack so phillips hummed and hawed a wile and finely said all right simon could have it but he wouldn't never sell it to him only that it kept worring him so much to carry it in his pocket for the fear he would loose it or break it. well al phillips has got simon's last 4 franks and simon has got phillips's speegle and i suppose now that the boys sees how soft it is they will be selling him stuff on credit and he will owe them his next months pay before they get through with him and i suppose the next thing you know they will keep their beard when they shave and sell it to him for german tobacco. well i would half to be pretty hard up before i went in on some skin game like that and i would just as leave go up to 1 of them cripples that use to spraddle all over the walk along 35 st. after the ball game and stick my heel in their eye and romp off with their days receipts. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, june 11._ friend al: well al it seems like capt. seeley is up on his ear because they haven't took our regt. out of here yet because it seems gen. pershing told gen. foch that he was to help himself to any part of the u. s. army and throw them in where ever they was needed and they's been a bunch of the boys throwed in along the other parts of the front to try and stop the germans and capt. seeley is raveing because they keep us here and don't take us where we can get some actions. any way 1 of the lieuts. told some of the boys that if we didn't get took out of here pretty quick capt. seeley would start a war of our own on this section and all the officers was sore because we hadn't done nothing or took no prisoners or nothing you might say only make repairs in the wire and etc. well al how in the he--ll can we show them anything when they don't never send us over the top or nowheres else but just leave us here moldering you might say but at that i guess we have showed as much life as the birds that's over there opp. us in them other trenchs that hasn't hardly peeped since we come in here and the boys says they are a saxon regt. that comes from part of germany where the kaiser is thought of the same as a gum boil so the saxons feels kind of friendly towards us and they will leave us alone as long as we leave them alone and visa and versa. so i don't see where capt. seeley and them other officers has got a right to pan us for not showing nothing but i don't blame them for wishing they would take us out of here and show us the war and from all as we hear they's plenty of places where we could do some good or at lease as much good as the birds that has been there. well al they have been stringing poor simon along and today they give him a song and dance about some bird name joe in the regt. that was here ahead of us that got a collection of souvenirs that makes simon's look rotten and they said the guy's pals called him souvenir joe on acct. of him haveing such a fine collection. so brady says to simon "all you have got is 5 or 6 articles and the next thing you know they will be takeing us out of here and you might maybe never get another chance to pick up any more rare articles so if i was you i would either get busy and get a real collection or throw away them things you have got and forget it." so simon says "how can i get any more souvenirs when i haven't no more jack to buy them and besides you birds haven't no more to sell." so brady says "souvenir joe didn't buy his collection but he went out and got them." so simon asked him where at and brady told him this here joe use to crall out in nobody's land every night and pick up something and simon says it was a wonder he didn't get killed. so brady says "how would he get killed as the trenchs over across the way was just as empty when he was here as they are now and old 1 legged mike and his motorcycle was on the job then to, so joe would wait till mike had throwed a few flares on this section and then he would sneak out and get his souvenirs before mike come back again on his rounds." well then simon asked him where the souvenirs was out there and brady says they was in the different shell holes because most of joe's souvenirs was the insides of german shells that had exploded and they was the best kind of souvenirs as they wasn't no chance of them being a fake. well al i had a notion to take simon to 1 side and tell him to not pay no tension to these smart alex because the poor crum might go snooping out there some night after the insides of a shell and get the outsides and all and if something like that happened to him i would feel like a murder though i haven't never took no part in makeing a monkey out of him, but i thought well if the poor cheese don't know no more then that he is better off dead let him go. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, june 13._ friend al: just a line al as i am to excited to write much but i knew you would want to know the big news. well al i have got a daughter born the 18 of may. how is that for a supprise al but i guess you won't be no more supprised than i was when the news come as florrie hadn't gave me no hint and a man can't guess a thing like that when you are in france and the lady in question is back in old chi. but it sure is wonderfull news al and i only wished i was somewheres where i could celebrate it right but you can't even whistle here or somebody would crown you with a shovle. well al the news come today in a letter from florrie's sister marie allen and she has been down in texas but i suppose florrie got her to come up and stay with her though as far as i can sec its bad enough to have a baby without haveing that bird in the house to, but they's i consolation we haven't got rm. in the apt. for more than 2 kids and 3 grown ups so when i get home if sweet marie is still there yet we will either half to get rid of the swede cook or she, and when it comes to a choice between a ski jumper that will work and a sister that won't why florrie won't be bothered with no family ties. any way i haven't no time to worry about no allen family now as i am feeling to good and all as i wish is that somebody wins this war dam toot sweet so as i can get home and see this little chick al and i bet she is as pretty as a picture and she couldn't be nothing else you might say and i have wrote to florrie to not name her or nothing till i have my say as you turn a woman loose on nameing somebody all alone and they go nuts and look through a seed catalog. well old pal i know you would congratulate me if you was here and i am only sorry i can't return the complement and if i was you and bertha i would adopt 1 of these here belgium orphans that's lost their parents as they's nothing like it al haveing a kid or 2 in the house and i bet little al is tickled to death with his little sister. well al i have told all the boys about it and they have been haveing a lot of fun with me but any way they call me papa now which is a he--ll of a lot better then sammy boy. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the trenchs, june 14._ friend al: i am all most to nervous to write al but anything is better then setting around thinking and besides i want you to know what has came off so as you will know what come off in the case something happens. well al simple simon's gone. we don't know if he's dead or alive or what the he--ll and all as we know is that he was here last night and he ain't here today and they hasn't nobody seen or heard of him. of course al that isn't all we know neither as we can just about guess what happened. but i have gave my word to not spill nothing about what the boys pulled on him or god knows what capt. seeley would do to them. well al i got up this a. m. feeling fine as i had slept better then any time for a wk. and i dreamt about the little gal back home that ain't never seen her daddy or don't know if she's got 1 or not but in my dream she knowed me o. k. as i dreamt i had just got home and florrie wasn't there to meet me as usual but i rung the bell and the ski jumper let me in and i asked her where florrie was and she said she had went out somewheres with little al so i was going out and look for them but the swede says the baby is here if you want to see her and i asked her what baby and she says why your new little baby girl. so then i heard a baby crying somewheres in the house and i went in the bed rm. and this little mite jumped right up out of bed and all of a sudden she was 3 yrs. old instead of a mo. and she come running to me and hollered daddy. so then i grabbed her up and we begin danceing around but all of a sudden it was i and florrie that was danceing together and little al and the little gal was danceing around us and then i woke up al and found i was still in this he--ll hole but the dream was so happy that i was still feeling good over it yet and besides it looked like the sun had forgot it was in france and was going to shine for a while. well pretty soon along come corp. evans and called me to 1 side and asked me what i knew about simon. so i says what about him. so corp. evans says he is missing and they hasn't nobody saw him since last night. so i says i didn't know nothing about him but if anything had happened to him they was a lot of birds in this co. that ought to pay for it. so corp. evans asked me what was i driveing at and i started in to tell him about alcock and brady and them kidding this poor bird to death and corp. evans says yes he knew all about that and the best thing to do was to shut up about it as it would get everybody in bad. he says "wait a couple days any way and maybe he will show up o. k. and then they won't be no sence in spilling all this stuff." so i says all right i would wait a couple days but these birds ought to get theirs if something serious has happened and if he don't show up by that time i won't make no promise to spill all i know. so corp. evans says i didn't half to make no promise as he would spill the beans himself if simon isn't o. k. well al of course all the boys had heard the news by the time i got to talk to them and they's 2 or 3 of them that feels pretty sick over it and no wonder and the bird that feels the sickest is alcock and here is why. well it seems like yesterday while i was telling all the boys about the news from home simon was giveing alcock a ear full of that junk brady had been slipping him about souvenir joe and simon asked alcock if he thought they was still any of them souvenirs worth going after out in them shell holes. so alcock says of course they must be as some of the holes was made new since we been here. but alcock told him that if he was him he wouldn't waist no time collecting the insides of german shells as the germans was so hard up for mettle and etc. now days that the shells they was sending over was about 1/2 full of cheese and stuff that wouldn't keep. so alcock says to him "what you ought to go after is a saxon because you can bet that souvenir joe didn't get none and if you would get 1 all the boys would begin calling you souvenir simon instead of simple simon and you would make souvenir joe look like a dud." well al simon didn't know a saxon from a hang nail so he asked alcock what they looked like and alcock told him to never mind as he couldn't help from knowing 1 if he ever seen it so then simon asked him where they was libel to be and alcock told him probably over in some of the shell holes near the german trench. that's what come off yesterday wile i was busy telling everybody about the little gal as you can bet i would of put simon wise had i of been in on it and now al he's gone and they don't nobody know what's became of him but they's a lot of us that's got a pretty good idear and as i say they's 2 or 3 feels pretty sick and one a specially. but i guess at that they don't no one feel no worse then me though they can't nobody say i am to blame for what's happened but still in all i might of interfered because i am the only 1 of them that has got a heart al and the only reason alcock and brady is so sick now is that they are scared to death of what will happen to them if they get found out. because their smartness won't get them nothing up in front of the court marshall as he has seen to many birds just like them. well al i am on post duty tonight and maybe you don't know what that means. well old pal its no elks carnivle at no time and just think what it will be tonight with your ears straining for a cry from out there. and if the cry comes al they won't only be the 1 thing to do and i will be the 1 to do it. so this may be the last time you will hear from me old pal and i wanted you to know in the case anything come off just how it happened as i won't be here to write it to you afterwards. all as i can think about now al is 2 things and 1 of them is that little gal back home that won't never see her daddy but maybe when she gets 4 or 5 yrs. old she will ask her mother "why haven't i got a daddy like other little girls?" but maybe she will have 1 by that time al. but what i am thinking about the most is that poor 1/2 wit out there and as brady says he isn't nothing but a mormon any way and ought never to of got in the army but still and all he is a man and its our duty to fight and die for him if needs to be. your pal, jack. * * * * * _in the hospital, july 20._ friend al: you will half to excuse this writeing as i am proped up in a funny position in bed and its all as i can do to keep the paper steady as my left arm ain't no more use then the russian front. well al yesterday was the 1st. time they left me set up and i wrote a letter to florrie and told her i was getting along o. k. as i didn't want she should worry and this time i will try and write to you. i suppose you got the note that the little nurse wrote for me about 2 wks. ago and told you i was getting better. well old pal the gal that wrote you that little note is some baby and if you could see the kid that wrote you that little note you would wished you was laying here in my place. no i guess you wouldn't wished that al as they's nobody that would want to go through what i have been through and they's very few that could stand it like i have and keep on smileing. well old pal they thought for a wile that it was feeney for yrs. truly as they say over here and believe me i was in such pain that i would of been glad to die to get rid of the pain and the dr. said it was a good thing i was such a game bird and had such a physic or i couldn't of never stood it. but i am not strong enough yet to set this way very long so if i am going to tell you what happened i had better start in. well al this is the 20 of july and that means i have been in here 5 wks. as it was the 14 of june when all this come off. well al i can remember writeing to you the day of the night it come off and i guess i told you about this bird simon getting lost that was always after the souvenirs and some of the boys told him they wasn't no germans over in the other trenchs but just a bird name motorcycle mike that went up and down the section throwing flares so as we would think they was germans over there. so they told him if he wanted to go out in nobody's land and spear souvenirs it was safe if you went just after mike had made his rounds so as the snippers wouldn't get you. well old pal i was standing there looking out over nobody's land that night and i couldn't think of nothing only poor simon and listening to hear if i couldn't maybe hear him call from somewheres out there and i don't know how long i had been standing there when i heard a kind of a noise like somebody scrunching and at the same time they was a flare throwed up from our side and i seen a figure out there cralling on the ground quite a ways beyond our wire. well al i didn't wait to look twice but i called corp. evans and told him. so he says who did i think it was and i said it must be simon. so he says "well keefe its up to 1 of us to go get him." so i said "well corp. i guess its my job." so he says "all right keefe if you feel that way about it." so i says all right and i'll say al that he give up his claims without a struggle. well i started and i was going without my riffle but the corp. stopped me and says take it along and i says "what for, do you think i am going to pick simon up with a bayonet." so he says who told me it was simon out there. well al that's the 1st. time i stopped to think it might maybe be somebody else. well florrie use to say that i couldn't get up in the night for a drink of water without everybody in the bldg. thinking the world serious must of started but i bet i didn't knock over no chairs on this trip. well al it took me long enough to get out there as you can bet i wasn't trying for no record and every time they was a noise i had to lay flat and not buge. but i got there al to where i thought i had saw this bird moveing around but they hadn't no rockets went up since i started and it was like a troop ship and i couldn't make out no figure of a man or nothing else and i was just going to whisper simon's name when i reached out my hand and touched him. well al it wasn't simon. well old pal we had some battle this bird and me and the both of us forgot bayonets and guns and everything else. i would of killed him sure only he got a hold of my left hand between his teeth and i couldn't pry it loose. but believe me al he took a awful beating with my free hand and i will half to hand it to him for a game bird only what chance did he have? none al and the battle couldn't only end the 1 way and i was just getting ready to grab his wind pipe and shut off the meter when he left go of my other hand and let out a yell that you could hear all over the great lakes and then all of a sudden it seemed like everybody was takeing a flash light and then the bullets come whizzing from all sides it seemed like and they got me 3 times al and never pinked this other bird once. well al it wasn't till 2 wks. ago that i found out that my opponent was johnny alcock. just 2 wks. ago yesterday johnny come in and seen me and told me the whole story and it was the 1st. day they left me see anybody only the dr. and the little nurse and was the 1st. day johnny was able to be up and around. how is that al to put a man in the hospital for 3 wks. without useing no gun or knife or nothing on him only 1 bear fist. some fist eh al. well it seems like he had been worring so about simon that he finely went out there snooping around all by himself looking for him and he was the 1 i seen when that flare went up and of course we each thought the other 1 was a german and finely it was him yelling and the rockets going up at the same time that drawed the fire and i got all of it because i was the bird on top. but listen al till you hear the funny part of it. simple simon the bird that we was both out there looking for him showed up in our trench about a 1/2 hr. after we was brought in and he showed up with a saxon all right but the saxon was dead. well al simon told them that he had ran into this guy over near their wire and that he was alive when he got him, but alcock says that brady said simon hadn't only been gone 24 hrs. and the saxon had been gone a he--ll of a lot longer than that. well they's no hard feeling between alcock and i and i guess i more then got even with him for eating out of my hand as they say but johnny said it was a shame i couldn't of used some of my strength on a german instead of him but any way its all over now and the dr. says my leg is pretty near o. k. and i can walk on it in a couple wks. but my left arm won't be no use for god knows how long and maybe never and i guess i'm lucky they didn't half to clip it off. so i don't know when i will get out of here or where i will go from here but i guess they's 1 little party that ain't in no hurry to see me go and i wished you could see her look at me al and you would say its to bad i am a married man with 2 kids. your pal, jack. [illustration: and i wished you could see her look at me, al] * * * * * _somwheres in france, aug. 16._ friend al: well al i don't suppose this will reach you any sooner then if i took it with me and mailed it when i get home but i haven't nothing to do for a few hrs. so i might as well be writeing you the news. well old pal i am homewards bound as they say as the war is feeney as far as i am conserned and i am sailing tonight along with a lot of the other boys that's being sent home for good and when i look at some of the rest of them i guess i am lucky to be in as good a shape as i am. i am o. k. only for my arm and wile it won't never be as good as it was i can probably get to use it pretty good in a few months and all as i can say is thank god it is my left arm and not the old souper that use to stand cobb and them on their head and it will stand them on their head again al as soon as this war is over and i guess i won't half to go begging to comiskey to give me another chance after what i have done as even if i couldn't pitch up a alley i would be a money maker for them just setting on the bench and showing myself after this. well we are saying good by to old france and i don't know how the rest of the boys feels but i am not haveing no trouble controling myself and when it comes down to cases al the shoe is on the other ft. and what i am getting at is that france ought to be the 1 that hates to see us leave as i doubt if they will ever get a bunch of spenders like us over here again. well al it certainly seems quite down here in this old sea port town after what we have been through and it seems like i can still hear them big guns roar and them riffles crack and etc. and i feel like i ought to keep my head down all the wile and keep out of the snippers way and i could all most shut my eyes and imagine i was back there again in that he--ll hole but i know i'm not al as i don't itch. well al my wounds isn't the only reason i am comeing home but they's another reason and that is that they want some of us poplar idles to help rouse up the public on this here next liberty loan and i don't mind it as they have promised to send me home to chi and i can be with florrie and the kids. i will do what i can al though i can't figure where the public would need any rouseing up and they certainly wouldn't if they had of been through what i have been through and maybe some of the other boys to. it takes jack to run a war al even if us boys don't get none of it or what we do get they either send it home to our wife or take it away from us in a crap game. well old pal i left the hospital the day before yesterday and that was the only time i felt like crying since they told me i was going home and it wasn't so much for myself al but that poor little nurse and you would of felt like crying to if you could of seen the look she give me. her name is charlotte warren and she lives in minneapolis and expects to go right back there after she is through over here but that don't do me no good as a married man with a couple children has got something better to do besides flirting with a pretty little nurse and besides i won't never pitch ball in minneapolis as i expect to quit the game when i am about 40. well al some of the boys wants to say their farewells to the vin rouge and the la la las and i will half to close and i will write again as soon as i get home and tell you what the baby gal looks like though they's only the 1 way she could look and that's good. well here is good by to france and good luck to all the boys that's going to stay over here and simple simon with the rest of them and i suppose i ought to of got a few souvenirs off him to bring home with me. but i guess at that i will be carrying a souvenir of this war for a long wile al and its better than any of them foney ones he has got as the 1 i have got shows i was realy in it and done my bit for old glory and the u. s. a. your pal, jack. * * * * * _chicago, aug. 29._ friend al: well al here i am back in old chi and feeling pretty good only for my arm and my left leg is still stiff yet and i caught a mean cold comeing across the old pond but what is a few little things like that as the main thing is being home. well old pal they wasn't nothing happened on the trip across the old pond only it took a whole lot to long and believe me old n. y. looked good but believe me i wouldn't waist no time in n. y. only long enough to climb outside a big steak and the waiter had to cut it up for me but even the waiters treated us fine and everywheres we showed up the people was wild about us and cheered and clapped and it sounded like old times when i use to walk out there to warm up. well we hit n. y. in the a. m. and left that night and got here last eve. and i didn't leave florrie know just when i was comeing as i wanted to supprise her. well al i ought to of wired ahead and told her to go easy on my poor old arm because when she opened the door and seen me she give a running hop step and jump and dam near killed me. so then she seen my arm in a sling and cried and cried and she says "oh my poor boy what have you been through." so i says "well you have been through something yourself so its 50 50 only i got this from a german." well al little al was the cutest thing you ever seen and he grabbed me by the good hand and rushed me in to where the little stranger was laying and she was asleep but we broke the rules for once and all and all it was some party and she is some little gal al and pretty as a picture and when you can say that for a 3 mos. old its going some as the most of them looks like a french breakfast. well i finely happened to think of sister marie and i asked where she was at and florrie says she went back to texas so i says tough luck and florrie says i needn't get so gay the 1st. evening home and she says "any way we have still got a marie in the house as that is what i call the baby." so i says "well you can think of her that way but her name ain't going to be that as i don't like the name." so she says what name did i like and i pretended like i was thinking a wile and finely i says what is the matter with charlotte. well al you will half to hand it to the women for detectives as i hadn't no sooner said the name when she says "oh no you can't come home and name my baby after none of your french nurses." and i hadn't told her nothing about a nurse. well any way i says i had met a whole lot more maries then charlottes in france and she says had i met any florries and i said no and that was realy the name i had picked out for the kid. so she says well she didn't like the name herself but it was the only name i could pick out that she wouldn't be suspicious of it so the little gal is named after her mother al and if she only grows up 1/2 as pretty as her old lady it won't make no differents if she has got a funny name. well al have you noticed what direction the dutchmens is makeing their drive in now? they started going the other way the 18 of july and it was 2 days ahead of that time that our regt. was moved over to the war and now they are running them ragged. well al i wished i was there to help but even if i was worth a dam to fight i couldn't very well leave home just now. your pal, jack. the end ----------------------------------------------------------------------raemaekers' cartoons ----------------------------------------------------------------------[illustration: (transcriber's note: a signed portrait of louis raemaekers) photograph by miss d. compton collier] ----------------------------------------------------------------------raemaekers' cartoons with accompanying notes by well-known english writers with an appreciation from h. h. asquith, prime minister of england garden city new york doubleday, page & company 1916 ----------------------------------------------------------------------copyright, 1916, by doubleday, page & company all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian. ----------------------------------------------------------------------list of cartoons and the descriptive notes page portrait of louis raemaekers introduction francis stopford an appreciation from the prime minister h. h. asquith christendom after twenty centuries francis stopford 8 a stable peace eden phillpotts 10 the massacre of the innocents e. charles vivian 12 bernhardiism hilaire belloc 14 from liège to aix-la-chapelle francis stopford 16 spoils for the victors hilaire belloc 18 the very stones cry out bernard vaughan, s. j. 20 satan's partner g. k. chesterton 22 thrown to the swine the dean of st. paul's 24 the land mine herbert warren 26 "for your motherland" eden phillpotts 28 the german loan e. charles vivian 30 europe, 1916 g. k. chesterton 32 the next to be kicked out--dumba's master arthur pollen 34 the friendly visitor h. devere stacpoole 36 "to your health, civilization!" the dean of st. paul's 38 fox tirpitz preaching to the geese herbert warren 40 the prisoners eden phillpotts 42 it's unbelievable hilaire belloc 44 kreuzland, kreuzland über alles the dean of st. paul's 38 the ex-convict hilaire belloc 48 miss cavell g. k. chesterton 50 the hostages john oxenham 52 king albert's answer to the pope e. charles vivian 54 the gas fiend eden phillpotts 56 the german tango john buchan 58 the zeppelin triumph w. l. courtney 60 keeping out the enemy h. devere stacpoole 62 the german offer hilaire belloc 64 the wolf trap herbert warren 66 ahasuerus ii john buchan 68 our candid friend the dean of st. paul's 70 peace and intervention boyd cable 72 little red riding hood h. devere stacpoole 74 the sea mine arthur pollen 76 "seduction" g. k. chesterton 78 murder on the high seas arthur pollen 80 ad finem john oxenham 82 "u's" arthur pollen 84 mater dolorosa eden phillpotts 86 "gott strafe italien!" ralph d. blumenfeld 88 serbia sir sidney lee 90 "just a moment--i'm coming" boyd cable 92 the holy war boyd cable 94 "gott mit uns" eden phillpotts 96 the widows of belgium the dean of st. paul's 98 the harvest is ripe william mitchell ramsay 100 "unmasked" boyd cable 102 the great surprise g. k. chesterton 104 thou art the man! john oxenham 106 sympathy ralph d. blumenfeld 108 the refugees joseph thorp 110 "the junker" clive holland 112 "au milieu de fantômes tristes et sans nombre" alice meynell 114 bluebeard's chamber william mitchell ramsay 116 the raid arthur pollen 118 better a living dog than a dead lion arthur shadwell 120 "the burden of the intolerable day" william mitchell ramsay 122 eagle in hen-run boyd cable 124 the future sidney lee 126 christ or odin? bernard vaughan 128 ferdinand edmund gosse 130 juggernaut john oxenham 132 michael and the marks w. m. j. williams 134 their beresina john oxenham 136 new peace offers w. l. courtney 138 the shields of rosselaere william mitchell ramsay 140 the obstinacy of nicholas joseph thorp 142 the order of merit ralph d. blumenfeld 144 the marshes of pinsk alice meynell 146 god with us john buchan 148 ferdinand the chameleon g. k. chesterton 150 the latin sisters horace annesley vachell 152 misunderstood joseph thorp 154 prosperity reigns in flanders cecil chesterton 156 the last hohenzollern e. charles vivian 158 piracy arthur pollen 160 "weeping, she hath wept" father bernard vaughan 162 military necessity eden phillpotts 164 liberté! liberté, chérie! john oxenham 166 i--"a knavish piece of work" george birdwood 168 ii--"sisyphus,--his stone" george birdwood 170 concrete foundations a. shadwell 172 pallas athene herbert warner 174 the wonders of culture clive holland 176 folk who do not understand them bernard vaughan 178 on the way to calais eden phillpotts 180 von bethmann-hollweg and truth herbert warren 182 van tromp and de ruyter arthur pollen 184 war and christ cecil chesterton 186 barbed wire e. charles vivian 188 the higher politics boyd cable 190 the loan game w. m. j. williams 192 a war of rapine e. charles vivian 194 the dutch junkers a. shadwell 196 the war makers john oxenham 198 the christmas of kultur a. shadwell 200 serbia horace annesley vachell 202 the last of the race arthur pollen 204 the curriculum w. m. j. williams 206 the dutch journalist to his belgian confrère g. k. chesterton 208 a bored critic eden phillpotts 210 "the peace woman" clive holland 212 the self-satisfied burgher w. l. courtney 214 the decadent john oxenham 216 liquid fire clive holland 218 nish and paris sidney lee 220 gott strafe england! cecil chesterton 222 the pacificist kaiser sidney lee 224 dinant w. r. inge 226 "hesperia" (wounded first) h. devere stacpoole 228 gallipoli g. k. chesterton 230 the beginning of the expiation g. k. chesterton 232 the shirkers sidney lee 234 one of the kaiser's many mistakes john oxenham 236 belgium in holland edmund gosse 238 serbia william mitchell ramsay 240 jackals in the political field herbert warren 242 a letter from the german trenches cecil chesterton 244 his master's voice a. shadwell 246 hun generosity horace annesley vachell 248 easter, 1915 g. k. chesterton 250 pan germanicus as peace maker alfred stead 252 gott mit uns cecil chesterton 254 our lady of antwerp w. l. courtney 256 deportation cecil chesterton 258 the german band john oxenham 260 arcades ambo horace annesley vachell 262 "is it you, mother?" sidney lee 264 the fate of flemish art at the hands of kultur arthur morrison 266 the graves of all his hopes h. devere stacpoole 268 "my sixth son is now lying here--where are yours?" h. devere stacpoole 270 bunkered w. r. inge 272 gott strafe verdun w. r. inge 274 the last throw e. charles vivian 276 the zeppelin bag clive holland 278 "come in, michael, i have had a long sleep" horace annesley vachell 280 five on a bench g. k. chesterton 282 what about peace, lads? w. r. inge 284 the liberators joseph thorp 286 tom thumb and the giant e. charles vivian 288 "we have finished off the russians" e. charles vivian 290 muddle through clive holland 292 my enemy is my best friend william mitchell ramsay 294 how i deal with the small fry clive holland 296 the two eagles a. shadwell 298 london inside the savoy e. charles vivian 300 london outside the savoy e. charles vivian 302 the invocation a. shadwell 304 ----------------------------------------------------------------------introduction louis raemaekers will stand out for all time as one of the supreme figures which the great war has called into being. his genius has been enlisted in the service of mankind, and his work, being entirely sincere and untouched by racial or national prejudice, will endure; indeed, it promises to gain strength as the years advance. when the intense passions, which have been awakened by this world struggle, have faded away, civilization will regard the war largely through these wonderful drawings. * * * * * before the war had been in progress many weeks the cartoons in the amsterdam _telegraaf_ attracted attention in the capitals of europe, many leading newspapers reproducing them. the german authorities, quick to realize their full significance, did all in their power to suppress them. through german intrigue raemaekers has been charged in the dutch courts with endangering the neutrality of holland--and acquitted. a price has been set on his head, should he ever venture over the border. when he crossed to england, his wife received anonymous post-cards, warning her that his ship would certainly be torpedoed in the north sea. the cologne _gazette_, in a leading article on holland, threatens that country that "after the war germany will settle accounts with holland, and for each calumny, for each cartoon of raemaekers, she will demand payment with the interest that is due to her." not since saul and the men of israel were in the valley of elah fighting with the philistines has so unexpected a champion arisen. with brush and pencil this dutch painter will do even as david did with the smooth stone out of the brook: he will destroy the braggart goliath, who, strong in his own might, defies the forces of the living god. when mr. raemaekers came to london in december, he was received by the prime minister, and was entertained at a complimentary luncheon by the journalists of the british capital. similar honour was conferred on him on his second visit. he was the guest of honour at the savage club; the royal society of miniature painters elected him an honorary member. but it has been left to france to pay the most fitting recognition to his genius and to his services in the cause of freedom and truth. the cross of the legion of honour has been presented to him, and on his visit to paris this month a special reception is to be held in his honour at la sorbonne, which is the highest purely intellectual reward europe can confer on any man. * * * * * the great dutch cartoonist is now in his forty-seventh year. he was born in holland, his father, who is dead, having been the editor of a provincial newspaper. his mother, who is still alive and exceedingly proud of her son's fame, is a german by birth, but rejoices that she married a dutchman. mr. raemaekers, who is short, fair, and of a ruddy countenance, looks at least ten years younger than his age. he took up painting and drawing when quite young and learnt his art in holland and in brussels. all his life he has lived in his own country, but with frequent visits to belgium and germany, where, through his mother, he has many relations. thus he knows by experience the nature of the peoples whom he depicts. for many years he was a landscape painter and a portrait painter, and made money and local reputation. six or seven years ago he turned his attention to political work, and became a cartoonist and caricaturist on the staff of the amsterdam _telegraaf_, thus opening the way to a fame which is not only world-wide but which will endure as long as the memory of the great war lasts. his ideas come to him naturally and without effort. suggestions do not assist him; they hinder him when he endeavours to act on them. he is an artist to his finger-tips and throws the whole force of his being into his work. some years ago he married a dutch lady, who is devoted to music, and they have three children, two girls and a boy (the youngest); the eldest is now twelve. very happy in his home, mr. raemaekers has no ambitions outside it, except to go on with his work. a teuton paper has declared that raemaekers' cartoons are worth at least two army corps to the allies. the strong religious tendency which so often distinguishes his work makes one instinctively ask to what church does the artist belong. he replies that he belongs to none, but was brought up a catholic, and his wife a protestant, and the differences which in later life severed each from their early teaching caused them to meet on common ground. but the intense christian feeling of these drawings is beyond cavil or dispute: they again and again bring home to the heart the vital truths of the faith with irresistible force, and the artist ever expresses the christianity, not perhaps of the theologian, but of the honest and kindly man of the world. praise has been bestowed upon his work by several german papers--qualified praise. the _leipziger volkszeitung_ has declared that raemaekers' cartoons show unimpeachable art and great power of execution, but that they all lack one thing. they have no wit, no spirit. which is true--in a sense. they do lack wit--german wit; they do lack spirit--german spirit. and what german wit and german spirit may be one can comprehend by a study of raemaekers' cartoons. * * * * * it has been well said that no man living amidst these surging seas of blood and tears has come nearer to the rôle of peacemaker than raemaekers. the peace which he works for is not a matter of arrangement between diplomatists and politicians: it is the peace which the intelligence and the soul of the western world shall insist on in the years to be. god grant it be not long delayed, but it can only come when the enemy is entirely overthrown and the victory is overwhelming and complete. empire house, francis stopford, kingsway, london. editor, _land and water_. february, 1916. ----------------------------------------------------------------------an appreciation from the prime minister downing street, whitehall, s. w. mr. raemaekers' powerful work gives form and colour to the menace which the allies are averting from the liberty, the civilization, and the humanity of the future. he shows us our enemies as they appear to the unbiassed eyes of a neutral, and wherever his pictures are seen determination will be strengthened to tolerate no end of the war save the final overthrow of the prussian military power. signed h. h. asquith. ----------------------------------------------------------------------christendom after twenty centuries these pictures, with their haunting sense of beauty and their biting satire, might almost have been drawn by the finger of the accusing angel. as the spectator gazes on them the full weight of the horrible cruelty and senseless futility of war overwhelms the soul, and, sinking helplessly beneath it, he feels inclined to assume the same attitude of despair as is shown in "christendom after twenty centuries." "war is war," the germans preached and practised, and no matter how clement and correct may be the humanity of the allies, we realize through these pictures what the human race has to face and endure once peace be broken. is "christendom after twenty centuries" to be even as christianity was in the first century--an excuse for the perpetration of mad cruelties by degenerate cæsars or kaisers (spell it as you will) at their games? cannot the higher and finer attributes of mankind be developed and strengthened without this apparently needless waste of agony and life? is human nature only to be redeemed through the cross, and must calvary bear again and again its heavy load of human anguish? one cannot escape from this inner questioning as one gazes on raemaekers' cartoons. francis stopford. [illustration: christendom after twenty centuries] ----------------------------------------------------------------------a stable peace were i privileged to have a hand at the peace conference, my cooperation would take the part of deeds and i should only ask to hang the walls of the council chamber with life-size reproductions of raemaekers in blood-red frames. for human memory is weak, and as mind of man cannot grasp the meaning of a million, so may it well fail to keep steadily before itself the measure of belgium--the rape and murder, the pillage and plunder, the pretences under which perished women and priests and children, the brutal tyranny--the left hand that beckoned in friendly fashion, the right hand, hidden with the steel. we can very safely leave france to remember northern france and russia not to forget poland; but let belgium and serbia be at the front of the british mind and conscience; let her lift her eyes to these scorching pictures when germany fights with all her cunning for a peace that shall leave prussia scotched, not killed. already one reads despondent articles, that the english tradition, to forgive and forget, is going to wreck the peace; and students of psychology fear that within us lie ineradicable qualities that will save the situation for germany at the end. to suspect such a national weakness is surely to arm against it and see that our contribution to the peace conference shall not stultify our contribution to the war. the germans have been kite-flying for six months, to see which way the wind blows; and when the steady hurricane broke the strings and flung the kites headlong to earth, those who sent them up were sufficiently proclaimed by their haste to disclaim. but when the actual conditions are created and the new "scrap of paper" comes to light, since german honour is dead and her oath in her own sight worthless, let it be worthless in our sight also, and let the terms of peace preclude her power to perjure herself again. make her honest by depriving her of the strength to be dishonest. there is only one thing on earth the german will ever respect, and that is superior force. may berlin, therefore, see an army of occupation; and may "peace" be a word banished from every allied tongue until that preliminary condition of peace is accomplished, and germany sees other armies than her own. reason has been denied speech in this war; but if she is similarly banished from the company of the peace-makers, then woe betide the constitution of the thing they will create, for a "stable peace" must be the very last desire of those now doomed to defeat. eden phillpotts. [illustration: a stable peace the kaiser: "and remember, if they do not accept, i deny altogether."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the massacre of the innocents some "neutrals," and even some of the people here in england, still doubt the reality of the german atrocities in belgium, but raemaekers has seen and spoken with those to whom the scene depicted in this cartoon is an ugly reality. one who would understand it to the full must visualize the hands behind the thrusting rifle butts, and the faces behind the hands, as well as the praying, maddened, despairing, vengeful women of the picture--and must visualize, too, the men thrust back another way, to wait _their_ fate at the hands of these apostles of a civilization of force. yet even then full realization is impossible; the man whose pencil has limned these faces has only caught a far-off echo of the reality, and thus we who see his picture are yet another stage removed from the full horror of the scene that he gives us. not on us, in england, have the rifle butts fallen; not for us has it chanced that we should be shepherded "men to the right, women to the left"; not ours the trenched graves and the extremity of shame. thus it is not for us to speak, as the people of belgium and northern france will speak, of the limits of endurance, and of war's last terrors imposed on those whom war should have passed by and left untouched. we gather, dimly and with but a tithe of the feeling that experience can impart, that these extremities of shame and suffering have been imposed on a people that has done no wrong, and we may gain some slight satisfaction from the thought that to this nation is apportioned a share in the work of vengeance on the criminals. e. charles vivian. [illustration: the massacre of the innocents "we _must_ do everything in good order--so men to the right, women to the left."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------bernhardiism it is the most bestial part of this most bestial thing that it is calculated and a matter of orders. the private soldier takes his share of the loot, and is generally the instrument of the cold and ordered killing; but it is the officer-class which most profits in goods, and it is the higher command which dictates the policy. it was so in 1870. it is much more so to-day. this note of calculation is particularly to be seen in the fluctuations through which that policy has passed. when the enemy was absolutely certain of victory, outnumbering the invader by nearly two to one and sweeping all before him, we had massacres upon massacres: louvain, aerschot, the wholesale butchery of dinant, the lorraine villages (and in particular the hell of guébervilliers). even at the very extremity of his tide of invasion, and in the last days of it, came the atrocities and destruction of sermaize. in the very act of the defeat which has pinned him and began the process of his destruction he was attempting yet a further repetition of these unnameable things at senlis under the very gates of paris. then came the months when he felt less secure. the whole thing was at once toned down by order. pillage was reduced to isolated cases, and murder also. few children suffered. a recovery of confidence throughout his eastern successes last summer renewed the crimes. poland is full of them, and the serbian land as well. in general, you have throughout these months of his ordeal a regular succession, of excess in vileness when he is confident, of restraint in it when he is touched by fear. this effect of fear upon the dull soul is a characteristic familiar to all men who know their prussian from history, particularly the wealthier governing classes of prussia. it is a characteristic which those who are in authority during this war will do well to bear in mind. properly used, that knowledge may be made an instrument of victory. hilaire belloc. [illustration: bernhardiism "it's all right. if i hadn't done it some one else might."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------from liège to aix-la-chapelle moreover, by the means of wisdom i shall obtain immortality, and leave behind me an everlasting memorial to them that come after me. "i shall set the people in order, and the nations shall be subject unto me. "horrible tyrants shall be afraid, when they do but hear of me; i shall be found good among the multitude, and valiant in war." (wisdom viii. 13, 14, 15.) * * * * * wisdom and wisdom alone could have painted this terrible picture the most terrible perhaps which raemaekers has ever done and yet the simplest. that he should have dared to leave almost everything to the imagination of the beholder is evidence of the wonderful power which he exercises over the mind of the people. each of us knows what is in that goods-van and we shudder at its hideous hidden freight, fearing lest it may be disclosed before our eyes. wisdom is but another name for supreme genius. so apposite are the verses which are quoted here from "the wisdom of solomon" in the "apocrypha" that they seem almost to have been written on louis raemaekers. moreover, this picture brings home to all of us in the most forcible manner possible the full reality of the horror of war. francis stopford. [illustration: from liège to aix-la-chapelle] ----------------------------------------------------------------------spoils for the victors the feature that will stamp prussian war forever, and make this group of campaigns stand out from all others, is the _character_ of its murder and pillage. of all the historical ignorance upon which the foolish pacifist's case is founded, perhaps the worst is the conception that these abominations are the natural accompaniment of war. they _have_ attached to war when war was ill organised in type. but the more subject to rule it has become, the more men have gloried in arms, the more they have believed the high trade of soldier to be a pride, the more have they eliminated the pillage of the civilian and the slaughter of the innocent from its actions. those things belong to violent passion and to lack of reason. modern war and the chivalric tradition scorned them. the edges of the germanies have, in the past, been touched by the chivalric tradition: prussia never. that noblest inheritance of christendom never reached out so far into the wilds. and to germany, now wholly prussianized--which will kill us or which we shall kill--soldier is no high thing, nor is their any meaning attached to the word "glorious." war is for that state a business: a business only to be undertaken with profit against what is certainly weaker; to be undertaken without faith and with a cruelty in proportion to that weakness. in particular it must be a terror to women, to children, and to the aged--for these remain unarmed. this country alone of the original alliance has been spared pillage. it has not been spared murder. but this country, though the process has perhaps been more gradual than elsewhere, is very vividly alive to-day to what would necessarily follow the presence of german soldiery upon english land. hilaire belloc. [illustration: spoils for the victors "we must despoil belgium if only to make room for our own culture."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the very stones cry out if the highly organized enemy with whom we are at grips in a life-and-death struggle would only play the war game in accordance with the rules drawn up by civilized peoples, he would, indeed, command our admiration no less than our respect. never on this earth was there such a splendid fighting machine as that "made in germany." the armies against us are the last word in discipline, fitness, and equipment; and are led by men who, born in barracks, weaned on munitions, have but one aim and end in view "world-dominion or downfall." as a matter of fact, instead of winning our admiration they have drawn our detestation. not content with brushing aside all international laws of warfare, they have trampled upon every law, human and divine, standing in their way of conquest. indeed, germany's method of fighting would disgrace the savages of central africa. prussianized germany has the monopoly of "frightfulness." when not "frightful," prussian troopers are not living down to the instructions of their war-lords to leave the conquered with nothing but eyes to weep with. not content to crucify canadians, murder priests, violate nuns, mishandle women, and bayonet children, the enemy torpedoes civilian-carrying liners, and bombs red cross hospitals. more, sinning against posterity as well as antiquity, germans stand charged before man and god with reducing to ashes some of the finest artistic output of christian civilization. when accused of crimes such as these, germany answers through her generals: "the commonest, ugliest stone put to mark the burial-place of a german grenadier is a more glorious and venerable monument than all the cathedrals of europe put together" (general von disfurth in _hamburger nachrichten_). "thus is fulfilled the well-known prophecy of heine: 'when once that restraining talisman, the cross, is broken ... thor, with his colossal hammer, will leap up, and with it shatter into fragments the gothic cathedrals'" (_religion and philosophy in germany in the nineteenth century_). what, i ask, can you do with such people but either crush or civilize them? the very stones cry out against them. bernard vaughan, s.j. [illustration: the very stones cry out] ----------------------------------------------------------------------satan's partner the cartoon bears the quotation from bernhardi "war is as divine as eating and drinking." yes; and german war is as divine as german eating and drinking. any one who has been in a german restaurant during that mammoth midday meal which generally precedes a sleep akin to a hibernation, will understand how the same strange barbarous solemnity has ruined all the real romance of war. there is no way of conveying the distinction, except by saying vaguely that there is a way of doing things, and that butchering is not necessary to a good army any more than gobbling is necessary to a good dinner. in our own insular shorthand it can be, insufficiently and narrowly but not unprofitably, expressed by saying that it is possible both to fight and to eat like a gentleman. it is therefore highly significant that mr. raemaekers has in this cartoon conceived the devil primarily as a kind of ogre. it is a matter of great interest that this dutch man of genius, like that other genius whose pencil war has turned into a sword, will dyson, lends in the presence of prussia (which has been for many moderns their first glimpse of absolute or positive evil) to depriving the devil of all that moonshine of dignity which sentimental sceptics have given him. evil does not mean dignity, any more than it means any other good thing. the stronger caricaturists have, in a sense, fallen back on the medieval devil; not because he is more mystical, but because he is more material. the face of raemaekers' satan, with its lifted jowl and bared teeth, has less of the half-truth of cynicism than of mere ignominious greed. the armies are spread out for him as a banquet; and the war which he praises, and which was really spread for him in flanders, is not a crusade but a cannibal feast. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: satan's partner bernhardi: "war is as divine as eating and drinking." satan: "here is a partner for me."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------thrown to the swine the germans have committed many more indefensible crimes than the military execution of the kind-hearted nurse who had helped war-prisoners to escape. they have murdered hundreds of women who had committed no offence whatever against their military rules. but though not the worst of their misdeeds, this has probably been the stupidest. it gained us almost as many recruits as the sinking of the _lusitania_, and it made the whole world understand--what is unhappily the truth--that the german is wholly destitute of chivalry. he knows indeed that people of other nations are affected by this sentiment; but he despises them for it. woman is the weaker vessel; and therefore, according to his code, she must be taught to know her place, which is to cook and sew, and produce "cannon-fodder" for the government. readers of schopenhauer and nietzsche will remember the advice given by those philosophers for the treatment of women. nietzsche recommends a whip. it never occurred to german officialdom that the pedantic condemnation of one obscure woman, guilty by the letter of their law, would stir the heart of england and america to the depths, and steel our soldiers to further efforts against an enemy whose moral unlikeness to ourselves becomes more apparent with every new phase in the struggle. the dean of st. paul's. [illustration: thrown to the swine the martyred nurse] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the land mine what does this cartoon suggest? i am asked and i ask myself. at first very little, almost nothing, only uninteresting, ugly death, gloomy, ghastly, dismal, but dull and largely featureless, blank and negative. has the artist's power failed him? no, it is strongly drawn. has his inspiration? what does it mean? is it indeed meant? as i gaze and pore on it longer, i seem to see that it is just in this blank negation that its strength and its suggestion lie. it is meant. it has meaning. a blast has passed over this place, and this is its sequel, its derelict rubbish. it is death unredeemed, death with no very positive suggestion, with no hint of heroism, none of heroic action, little even of heroic passion; just death, helpless, hopeless, pointing to nothing but decomposition, decay, disappearance, _anéantissement_, reduction of the fair frame of life to nothingness. that is the peculiar horror of this war. were the picture, as it well might be, even more hideous, and did it suggest something more definite, a story of struggle, say, recorded in contortion, or by wounds and weapons, it might be better. but men killed by machines, men killed by natural forces unnaturally employed, are indeed a fact and a spectacle squalid, sorry, unutterably sad. all wars have been horrible, but modern wars are more in extremes. heroism is there, but not always. it is possible only in patches. there is much of the mere sacrifice of numbers. strictly, there are scenes far worse than this, for death unredeemed is not the worst of sufferings or of ills. but few are sadder. this is indeed war made by those who hold it and will it to be "not a sport, but a science." there is no sport here. men killed like this are like men killed by plague or the eruption of a volcano. and, indeed, what else are they? they are victims of a diseased humanity of the eruption--literal and metaphorical--of its hidden fires. and wars will grow more and more like this. what can stop them and banish these scenes? only the hate of hate, only the love that can redeem even such a sight as this when at last we remember that it is for love's sake only that flesh and blood are in the last retort content to endure it. herbert warren. [illustration: the land mine] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"for your motherland" england's your mother! let your life acclaim her precious heart's blood flowing in your heart; take ye the thunder of her solemn name upon your lips with reverence; play your part by word and deed to shield and speed the far-flung splendour of her ancient fame. england's your mother! shall not you, her child, quicken the everlasting fires that glow upon your birthright's altar? england smiled beside your cradle, trusting you to show, with manhood's might, the undying light that points the road her free-born spirits go. england's your mother! man, forget it not wherever on the wide-wayed earth your fate calls you to labour; whatsoe'er your lot- in service, or in power, in stress or state- whate'er betide, with humble pride, remember! by your mother you are great. england's your mother! what though dark the day above the storm-swept frontier that you tread? her vanished children throng the glorious way; a myriad legions of her living dead those starry trains that shared your pains shall set their crown of light upon your head. england's your mother! when the race is run and you are called to leave your life and die, small matter what is lost, so this be won: an after-glow of blessed memory, gracious and pure, in witness sure "england was this man's mother: he, her son." eden phillpotts. [illustration: "my son, go and fight for your motherland!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the german loan the bubble is very nicely balanced, for german "kultur," which is in reality but another word for "system" or "organization," rather than that which english-speaking people understand by "culture," has built up a system of internal credit that shall ensure the correct balance of the bubble--for just as long as the militarist policy of germany can endure the strain of war. but money alone is not sufficient for victory; the peasant hard put to it to suppress his laugh, and the crowned germania that built up the paper pedestal of the bubble, needed many other things to make that pedestal secure; there was needed integrity, and the respect of neighbouring nations, and the understanding of other points of view beside the doctrine of force, and liberty instead of coercion of a whole nation, and many other things that the older civilizations of europe have accepted as parts of their code of life--the things this new, upstart germany has not had time to learn. thus, with the paper credit--and even with the gold reserve of which germany has boasted, the pedestal is but paper. and the winds that blow from the flooded, corpse-strewn districts of the yser, from artois, from champagne and the vosges hills and forests, and from the long, long line of russia's grim defences--these winds shall blow it away, leaving a nation bankrupt not only in money, but in the power to coerce, in the power to inspire fear, and in all those things out of which the hohenzollern dynasty has built up the last empire of force. e. charles vivian. [illustration: the german loan "don't breathe on the bubble or the whole will collapse."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------europe, 1916 there are some english critics who have not yet considered so simple a thing as that the case against horrors must be horrible. in this respect alone this publication of the work of the distinguished foreign cartoonist is a thing for our attention and enlightenment. it is the whole point of the awful experience which has to-day swallowed up all our smaller experiences, that we are in any case confronted with the abominable; and the most beautiful thing we can hope to show is only an abomination of it. nevertheless, there is horror and horror. the distinction between brute exaggeration and artistic emphasis could hardly be better studied than in mr. raemaekers' cartoon, and the use he makes of the very ancient symbol of the wheel. europe is represented as dragged and broken upon the wheel as in the old torture; but the wheel is that of a modern cannon, so that the dim background can be filled in with the suggestion of a wholly modern machinery. this is a very true satire; for there are many scientific persons who seem to be quite reconciled to the crushing of humanity by a vague mechanical environment in which there are wheels within wheels. but the inner restraint of the artist is suggested in the treatment of the torment itself; which is suggested by a certain rending drag in the garments, while the limbs are limp and the head almost somnolent. she does not strive nor cry; neither is her voice heard in the streets. the artist had not to draw pain but to draw despair; and while the pain is old enough the particular despair is modern. the victim racked for a creed could at least cry "i am converted." but here even the terms of surrender are unknowable; and she can only ask "am i civilized?" g. k. chesterton. [illustration: europe, 1916 "am i not yet sufficiently civilized?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the next to be kicked out--dumba's master uncle sam is no longer the simple new england farmer of a century ago. he is rich beyond calculation. his family is more numerous than that of any european country save russia. his interests are world-wide, his trade tremendous, his industry complex, his finance fabulous. above all, his family is no longer of one race. the hatreds of europe are not echoed in his house; they are shared and reverberate through his corridors. it is difficult, then, for him to take the simple views of right and wrong, of justice and humanity, that he took a century ago. he is tempted to balance a hundred sophistries against the principles of freedom and good faith that yet burn strongly within him. he is driven to temporize with the evil thing he hates, because he fears, if he does not, that his household will be split, and thus the greater evil befall him. but those that personify the evil may goad him once too often. dumba the lesser criminal--as also the less dexterous--has betrayed himself and is expelled. when will bernstorff's turn come? that it will come, indeed _must_ come, is self-evident. the artist sees things too clearly as they are not to see also what they will be. he therefore skips the ignoble interlude of prevarication, quibble, and intrigue, and gives us uncle sam happy at last in his recovered simplicity. so we see him here, enjoying himself, as only a white man can, in a wholehearted spurning of lies, cruelty, and murder. note that bernstorff--the victim of a gesture "fortunately rare amongst gentlemen"--is already in full flight through the air, while uncle sam's left foot has still fifteen inches to travel. the promise of an added velocity indicates that the flight of the unmasked diplomatist will be far. the sketched vista of descending steps gives us the satisfaction of knowing that the drop at the end will be deep. every muscle of our sinewy relative is tense, limp, and projectile--the mouthpiece of prussia goes to his inevitable end. there is no need of a sequel to show him shattered and crumpled at the bottom of the stairway. arthur pollen. [illustration: the next to be kicked out--dumba's master] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the friendly visitor raemaekers is never false, and he never works for effect alone. that is what makes him so terrible to the people he criticises, and so effective. when he wants to depict the sturdy dutch soul he draws a sturdy dutch body--ready to defend her home. no flags, no highfalutin, no symbolical figure posed for show; just cleanliness, determination, and good sense facing bestiality and oppression. the figure that stands for the freedom of the home opposed to the figure that stands for the freedom of the seas. many an englishman might take this picture to heart. h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: the friendly visitor the german: "i come as a friend." holland: "oh, yes. i've heard that from my belgian sister."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"to your health, civilization!" this terrible cartoon points its own lesson so forcibly that its effect is more likely to be weakened than strengthened by any verbal comment. death quaffs a goblet of human blood to the health of civilization. death has never enjoyed such a carnival of slaughter before, and it is civilization that has made the holocaust possible. the comparatively simple methods of killing employed by barbarians could not have destroyed so many lives; nor could barbarian states have raised such huge armies. the artist makes us feel that such a war as this is an act of moral madness, a disgrace to our common humanity. it is true that some of the nations engaged are guiltless, and others almost guiltless; but there is a solidarity of european civilization which obliges us all to share the shame and sorrow of this monstrous crime. universal war is the _reductio ad absurdum_ of false political theories and false moral ideals; and the _reductio ad absurdum_ is the chief argument which providence uses with mankind. perhaps it is the only argument which mankind in the mass can understand. the dean of st. paul's. [illustration: "to your health, civilization!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------fox tirpitz preaching to the geese there is nothing more pathetic in some ways to-day than the position of the small neutral countries in europe, and especially those which directly adjoin germany. and there is nothing more galling than the inability of the allies to give them any help. for the hour they are absolutely at the mercy of germany, or would be, if she had any, and they know it. they are certainly liable and exposed to all her flouts and cuffs and to any displays of bad temper or bullying or terrorism it may please her to exercise. and none perhaps is worse off in this respect than holland. it suits germany to be fairly civil to switzerland, who could give her a good deal of trouble by joining france and italy; and no doubt it suits her too to some extent to consider denmark, for denmark commands the entrance to the baltic; and, further, germany does not wish to bring all scandinavia down upon herself just at present. that can wait; but holland is in the worst plight of all. she has the terrible spectacle of belgium, ruined and ravaged, just on the other side of the way. and she has a very considerable and valuable mercantile marine. the great and good germany cannot be troubled to distinguish between dutch and other boats, and if occasionally a dutch ship is captured or sent to the bottom, it is a useful reminder of what she might do to her "poor relation" if she really let herself go. fighting for the freedom of the seas! holland has fought for them herself. holland has a great naval tradition. she knows quite well what england has been and is. she knows too, and can see, how her sons and brothers in south africa were treated by the british in england's last war, and how they regard england and germany now. raemaekers' cartoon is very skilful. if we had not seen it done, we should not have believed it possible to produce at once so clever a likeness of von tirpitz and so excellent an old fox. but the goose is by no means a foolish bird, though its wisdom may sometimes be shown in knowing its own weakness. it was they, and not the watchdogs, that saved the capitol. in old days it was the custom to call the germans the "high dutch" and the inhabitants of holland the "low dutch." it was a geographical distinction. the contrast in moral elevation is the other way. herbert warren. [illustration: fox tirpitz preaching to the geese "you see, my little dutch geese, i am fighting for the freedom of the seas." (the germans illegally captured several dutch ships.)] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the prisoners a vile feature of german "frightfulness" is this: that she mixes poison with her prisoners' rations. not content with starving their bodies, she hides truth from them and floods their minds with lies. those in command--officers, educated men, claiming the service of their soldiers and civil guard and the respect of their nation--deliberately hash a daily meal of falsehood and serve up german victories and triumphs on land and sea as sauce to the starvation diet of their defenceless captives. in the earlier months of the war, while yet the spiritual slough into which germany had sunk was unguessed, and the mixture of child and devil exemplified by "frightfulness" continued unfathomed, these daily lies undoubtedly answered their cowardly purpose, cast down the spirit of thousands, and added another pang to their captivity. but our armies know better now, and those diminishing numbers likely to be taken prisoner in the future see the end more clearly than the foe can. lies will be met with laughter henceforth, for our enemies have put themselves beyond the pale. they may starve and insult our bodies; but their power to poison our brains has passed from them forever. we know them at last. they have spun a web of barbed villainy between their souls and ours; and the evil committed for one foul purpose alone--to terrify free men and break the spirit of the sons of liberty--has produced results far different and created a situation more terrible for them than for their outraged enemies. for in this matter of misrepresentation and lying, born of prussia and by her spoon-fed pack of martinets, professors, and churchmen, mingled with germany's daily bread for a generation, it is she and not we who will reap the whirlwind of that sowing; it is she and not we who must soon pant and tear the breast in the pangs of the poison. between the mad and the sane there can be only one victor; and when the time comes, may germany's robe of repentance be a strait-waistcoat of the allies' choosing. for she has drunk deep of the poison, and those who anticipate a speedy cure will be as mad as she. when the escaped tigress is back in her cage, men look to the bars, for none wants a second mauling. eden phillpotts. [illustration: the prisoners] ----------------------------------------------------------------------it's unbelievable i am not sure that in this cartoon of raemaekers the most pleasing detail is not the servant's right eye. you will observe in that servant's right eye an expression familiar in those who overhear this sort of comment upon the peculiar bestialities of the prussian in belgium and poland, this extenuation of his baseness. when the war was young the opportunity for giving that glance was commoner than it is now. there were many even in a belligerent country who would tell you in superior fashion how foolishly exaggerated were the so-called "atrocities." the greater number of such men (and women) talked of "two germanies"--one the nice germany they knew and loved so well, and the other apparently nasty germany which raped, burned, stole, broke faith, tortured, and the rest. their number has diminished. but there is a little lingering trace of the sort of thing still to be discovered: men and women who hope against hope that the prussian will really prove good at heart after all. and it is usually just after some expression of the kind that the most appalling news arrives with a terrible irony to punctuate their folly. it reminds one a little of the man in the story who was sure that he could tame a wild cat, and was in the act of recording its virtues when it flew in his face. to an impartial observer who cared nothing for our sufferings or the enemy's vices, there would be something enormously comic in the vision of these few remaining (for there are still some few remaining) that approach the wild beast with soothing words and receive as their only reward a very large bomb through the roof of their house, or the news that some one dear to them has been murdered on the high seas. but to those actively suffering in the struggle the comic element is difficult to seize, and it is replaced by indignation. this fantastic misconception of the thing that is being fought is bound to be burned right out by the realities of the enemy acts in belligerent countries. it will be similarly destroyed--and that in no very great space of time--in all neutral countries as well. prussia will have it so. she is allowing no moral defence to remain for her future. it is almost as though the men now directing her affairs lent ear carefully to every word spoken in praise of them abroad, and met it at once by the tremendous denial of example. it is almost as though the prussian felt it a sort of personal insult to receive the praise of dupes and fools, and perhaps it is. hilaire belloc. [illustration: it's unbelievable dutch officer: "how can they have soiled their hands by such atrocities?" she: "can they have done it, my dear? german officers are so nice."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------kreuzland, kreuzland über alles this war has produced examples of every kind of misery which human beings can inflict upon each other, except one. europe has mercifully been spared long sieges of populous towns, ending in the surrender of the starving population. but many towns and villages have been burnt; and masses of refugees have fled before the invader, knowing too well the brutal treatment which they had to expect if they remained. very many of the unhappy belgians have taken refuge in holland; a considerable number have found an asylum in this country. they are homeless and ruined; if the war were to end to-morrow, many of them would not know where to go or how to live. families have been broken up; husbands and wives, parents and children, are ignorant of each other's fate. in this picture we see a crowd of children, herded together like a flock of sheep, with nobody to take care of them. their _via dolorosa_ is marked by long rows of crosses on either side, emblems of suffering, death, and sacrifice. in the distance rise the smoke and flames from one of the innumerable incendiary fires which the germans, like the cruel banditti of the middle ages, have kindled wherever they go. the dean of st. paul's. [illustration: kreuzland, kreuzland über alles belgium, 1914: "where are our fathers?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the ex-convict prussia in every war has betrayed that peculiar mark of barbarism consisting in using the intellectual weapons of a superior, but not knowing how to use them. it is still a matter of mystery to the directing prussian mind why the sinking of the _lusitania_ should have shocked the world. a submarine cannot take a prize into port. the _lusitania_ happened to be importing goods available in war, therefore the _lusitania_ must be sunk. all the penumbræ of further consideration which the civilized man weighs escape this sort of logic. similarly, the prussian argues, if an armed man is prepared to surrender, convention decrees that his life should be spared. therefore, if an armed man be just fresh from the murder of a number of children, he has but to cry "kamerad" to be perfectly safe. and prussia foams at the mouth with indignation whenever this strict rule of conduct is forgotten in the heat of the moment. the use of poison in the field which prussia for the first time employed (and reluctantly compelled her civilized opponents to reply to) is in the same boat. a shell bursts because solid explosive becomes gaseous. to use shell which in bursting wounds and kills men is to use gas in war; therefore if one uses gas in the other form of poison, disabling one's opponent with agony, it is all one. precisely the same barbaric use of logic--which reminds one of the antics of an animal imitating human gestures--will later apply to the poisoning of water supplies, or the spreading of an epidemic. it is soldierly and excites no contempt or indignation to strike at your enemy with a sword or shoot a pellet of lead at him in such a fashion that he dies. what is all this foolish pother about killing him with bacilli in his cisterns or with a drop of poison in his tea? men in war have burned groups of houses with the torch in anger or for revenge. why distinguish between that and the methodical sprinkling of petroleum from a hose by one gang and the equally methodical burning of the whole town house by house with little capsules of prepared incendiary stuff? the rule always applies--but only against the opponent: never to one's self. from that attitude of mind the prussian will never emerge. we shall, please god, see that mood in all its beauty in later stages of the war, when the coercion of the prussian upon his own soil leads to acts indefensible by prussian logic. we have already had a taste of this sort of reasoning when the royalties fled from karlsruhe and when the murderers upon the sinking zeppelin received the reward due to men who boast that they will not keep faith. hilaire belloc. [illustration: the ex-convict "i was a 'lifer,' but they found i had many abilities for bringing civilization amongst our neighbours, so now i am a soldier."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------miss cavell most of the english caricaturists are much too complimentary to the german emperor. they draw his moustaches, but not his face. now his moustaches are exactly what he, or the whole prussian school he represents, particularly wishes us to look at. they give him the fierce air of a fighting cock; and however little we may like fierceness, there will always be a certain residual respect for fighting, even in a cock. now the junker moustache is a fake; almost as much so as if it were stuck on with gum. it is, as mr. belloc has remarked, curled in a machine all night lest it should hang down. raemaekers, in the sketch which shows the kaiser as waiting for nurse cavell's death to say, "now you can bring me the american protest," has gone behind the moustache to the face, and behind the face to the type and the spirit. the emperor is not commanding in a lordly voice from a throne, but with a leer and behind a curtain. in the few lines of the lean, unnatural face is written the real history of the hohenzollerns, the kind of history not often touched on in our comfortable english humour, but common to the realism of continental art: the madness of frederick william, the perversion of frederick the great, the hint, mingled with subtler talents, of the mere idiocy that seems to have flowered again in the last heir of that inhuman house. the hohenzollerns have varied from generation to generation in many things and like many families; some of them have been tyrants, some of them geniuses, some of them merely boobies; but they have shared in something more than that hereditary policy which has been the poison in christendom for two hundred years. there is a ghost who inhabits these perishing tenements, and in such a picture as this of raemaekers men can see it looking out of the eyes. and it is neither the spirit of a tyrant nor of a booby; but the spirit of a sly invalid. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: miss cavell william: "now you can bring me the american protest."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the hostages ay', boy--you may well ask. and the world asks also, and in due time will exact an answer to the last drop of innocent blood. what have you done? you have fallen into the hands of the most scientifically organized barbarism the world has ever seen, or, please god, ever will see--to whom, of deliberate choice, such words as truth, honour, mercy, justice, have become dead letters, by reason of the pernicious doctrines on which the race has been nourished--by which its very soul has been poisoned. dead letters?--worn-out rags, the very virtues they once represented, even in germany, long since flung to the dust-heaps of the past in the soulless scramble for power and a place in the sun which no one denied her. deliberately, and of malice prepense, the military caste of prussia has taught, and the unhappy common-folk have accepted, that as a nation they are past all that kind of thing. there is only one right in the world--the might of the strongest. the weak to the wall! make way for the hun, whose god is power, and his high-priests the kaiser and the krupps. and so, every nation, even the smallest, on whom the eye of the minotaur has settled in baleful desire, has said, "better to die fighting than fall into the hands of the devil!" and they have fought--valiantly, and saved their souls alive, though their bodies may have been crushed out of existence by overwhelming odds. as nations, however, they shall rise again, and with honour, when their treacherous torturers have been crushed in their turn. and, wherever the evil tide has welled over a land, indemnities, incredible and unreasonable, have been exacted, and hostages for their payment, and for good behaviour under the yoke meanwhile, have been taken. woe unto such! in many cases they have simply been shot in cold blood--murdered as brazenly as by any jack-the-ripper. murder, too, of the most despicable--murder for gain--the gain that should accrue through the brutal terrorism of the act and its effect on the rest. and, if deemed advisable to gloss the crime with some thin veneer of imitation justice for the--unsuccessful--hoodwinking of a shocked and astounded world, what easier than an unseen shot in some obscure corner from a german rifle? then--"death to the hostages!--destruction to the village!--a fine of £100,000 on the town!" those provocative shots from german rifles have surely been the most profitably engineered basenesses in the whole war. they have justified--but in german eyes only--every committable crime, and they cost nothing--except the souls of their perpetrators. "it's your money we want--and your land--and your property--and, if necessary, your lives! you are weak--we are strong--and so----!" that is the simple credo of the hun. but for all these things there shall come a day of reckoning and the account will be a heavy one. may it be exacted to the full--from the rightful debtors! "what have you done?" you have at all events put the rope round the necks of your murderers, and the whole world's hands are at the other end of it. john oxenham. [illustration: the hostages "father, what have we done?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------king albert's answer to the pope the war has been singularly barren of heroic figures, perhaps because the magnitude of the events has called forth such a multitude of individually heroic acts that no one can be placed before the rest; yet, when this greatest phase of history comes to be written down with historic perspective, one figure--that of king albert of belgium--will stand as that of a twentieth-century bayard, a great knight without fear and without reproach. action on such far-flung lines as those of the european conflict has called for no great leaders in the sense in which that phrase has applied to previous wars; no napoleon has arisen, though william hohenzollern has aspired to napoleonic dignity; war has become more mechanical, more a matter of mathematics--and the barbarians of germany have made it more horrible. but, as if to accentuate german brutality and crime, this figure of king albert stands emblematic of the virtues in which civilization is rooted; to the broken word of germany it opposes untarnished honour; to the treacherous spirit of germany it opposes inviolable truth; to the relentless selfishness of germany it opposes the vicarious sacrifice of self, of a whole country and nation for the sake of a principle. and, in later days, men will remember how this truly great king held steadfastly to the little portion of his kingdom that the invasion left him; how he remained to inspirit his men by noble example, stubbornly rejecting peace without honour, and holding, when all else was wrecked, to the remnants of that army which saved europe in the gateway of liége. amid violation, desecration, and destruction, albert of belgium has won imperishable fame. e. charles vivian. [illustration: king albert's answer to the pope "with him who broke his word, devastated my country, burned my villages, destroyed my towns, desecrated my churches, and murdered my people, i will not make peace before he is expelled from my country and punished for his crimes."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the gas fiend there is an order of minds that intuitively distrusts science, detracts from the force of her achievements, and contends that devotion to machinery ends by making men machines. many who argue thus have fastened on germany's new war inventions as proof that science makes for materialism and opposes the higher values of humanity and culture. this is special pleading, for against the destructive forces discovered and liberated by german chemists in this war, one has only to consider the vast amelioration of human life for which modern science has to be thanked. because art has been created to evil purpose, shall we condemn pictures or statues? because the germans have employed gas poisons in warfare, are we to condemn the incalculable gifts of organic chemistry? look at the eye of louis raemaekers' snake. that is the answer. it is the force behind this application of it that has brought german science to shame. a precious branch of human knowledge has been prostituted by lust of blood and greed of gain until science, in common with all learning, comes simply to be regarded by the masters of germany as one more weapon in the armoury, one more power to help win "the day." every culture is treated in their alembic for the same purpose. we may picture the series of experiments that went to perfection of their poison gas; we may see their higher command watching the death of guinea-pig, rabbit, and ape with increasing excitement and enthusiasm as the hideous effects of their discovery became apparent. be sure an iron cross quickly hung over the iron heart that conceived and developed this filthy arm; for does it not offer the essence--quintessence of all "frightfulness?" does it not challenge every human nerve-centre by its horror? does it not, once proclaimed, by anticipation awake those very emotions of dread and dismay that make the stroke more fatal when it falls? these people pictured their snake paralyzing the enemy into frozen impotence; the floundering prussian psychology that cuts blocks with a razor and regards german mind as the measure of all mind, anticipated that poison gas would appeal to british and french as it has appealed to them. but it was not so. their foresight gave them an initial success in the field; it slew a handful of men with additions of unspeakable agony--and rekindled the execration and contempt of civilization. as an arm, poison gas cannot be considered conspicuously successful, since it is easily encountered; but for the allies it had some value, since it weighted appreciably the scale against germany in neutral minds and added to the universal loathing astir at the heart of the world. only fear now holds any kingdom neutral: there is not an impartial nation left on earth. eden phillpotts. [illustration: the gas fiend] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the german tango a blond woman, wearing the imperial crown and with her hair braided in pigtails like a german _backfisch_, is whirling in the tango with a skeleton partner. her face is livid with terror and fatigue, her limbs are drooping, but she is held by inexorable bony claws. on the feet of the skeleton are dancing pumps, a touch which adds to the grimness. this ghoulish dance does not lack its element of ghastly ceremonial. the dance of death has long been the theme of the moralist in art, from orcagna's fresco on the walls of the campo santo at pisa to holbein's great woodcuts and our own rowlandson. in germany especially have these _macabre_ imaginings flourished. the phantasmagoria of decay has haunted german art, as it haunted poe, from dürer to boecklin. but the mediæval dance of death was stately allegory, showing the pageant of life brooded over by the shadow of mortality. in m. raemaekers' cartoon there is no dignity, no lofty resignation. he shows death summoned in a mad caprice and kept as companion till the revel becomes a whirling horror. it is the profoundest symbol of the war. in a hot fit of racial pride death has been welcomed as an ally. and the dance on which germany enters is no stately minuet with something of tragic dignity in it. it is a common modern vulgar shuffle, a thing of ugly gestures and violent motions, the true sport of degenerates. once begun there is no halting. from east to west and from west to east the dancers move. there is no rest, for death is a pitiless comrade. from such a partner, lightly and arrogantly summoned, there can be no parting. the traveller seeks a goal, but the dancers move blindly and aimlessly among the points of the compass. death, when called to the dance, claims eternal possession. john buchan. [illustration: the german tango "from east to west and west to east i dance with thee!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the zeppelin triumph when the future historian gives to another age his account of all that is included in german "frightfulness," there is no feature upon which he will dilate more emphatically than the extraordinary use made by the enemy of their zeppelin fleet. in the experience we have gained in the last few months we discover that the zeppelins are not employed--or, at all events, not mainly employed--for military purposes, but in order to shake the nerves of the non-combatant population. the history of the last few zeppelin raids in england is quite sufficient testimony to this fact. london is bombarded, although it is an open city, and a large amount of damage is done to buildings wholly unconnected with the purposes of the war. the persons who are killed are not soldiers, they are civilians; the buildings destroyed are not munition works, but dwelling-houses, and some of the points of attack are theatres. the same thing has happened in the provinces. in the last raid over the midlands railway stations were destroyed, some breweries were injured, but, with exceedingly few exceptions, munition works and factories for the production of arms were untouched. here again the victims are not either soldiers or sailors, or even workmen employed in turning out instruments of war, but peaceable citizens and a large proportion of women and children. some such act of brutality is illustrated in the accompanying cartoon. a private house has been attacked, the mother has been killed, the father and child are left desolate. the little daughter at her father's knee, who cannot understand why guiltless people should suffer, asks the importunate question whether her mother had done anything wrong to deserve so terrible a fate. to the childish mind it seems incomprehensible that aimless and indiscriminate murder should fall on the guiltless. indeed the mother had done no wrong. she only happened to belong to one of the nations who are struggling against a barbaric tyranny. in that reckless crusade which the central powers are waging against all the higher laws of morality and civilization, some of the heaviest of the blows fall on the defenceless. it is this appalling inhumanity, this godless desire to maim and wound and kill, which nerves the arms of the allies, who know that in a case like this they are fighting for freedom and for the divine laws of mercy and loving-kindness. and it is for the young especially that the war is being waged, young boys and young girls like the motherless child in the picture, in order that they may inherit a europe which shall be free from the horrible burden of german militarism, and be able to live useful lives in peace and quietness. no, little girl, mother did no wrong! but _we_ should be guilty of the deepest wrong if we did not avenge her death and that of other similar victims by making such unparalleled crimes impossible hereafter. w. l. courtney. [illustration: the zeppelin triumph "but mother had done nothing wrong, had she, daddy?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------keeping out the enemy the prussian turns everything to account, from the scrapings of the pig-trough to the austrian emperor. the bavarian lists, the saxon lists, the austrian lists--these are all only indications of injuries to the prussian's life-saving waistcoat. if this war is to be a war to the last penny and the last man, the last austrian will die before the last saxon, the last saxon before the last bavarian, the last bavarian before the last prussian--and the last prussian will not die: he will live to clutch at the last penny. and the pity of it is that the austrian is quite a good fellow, the saxon is a decent sort of man, the bavarian is chiefly a brute in drink, whilst the prussian--we all know what the prussian is, the black centre of hardness, the incarnation of the shady trick, and the very complex soul of mechanical efficiency. the hohenzollern here makes a sandbag of the hapsburg, of whom fate has already made a football. fate has always been behind the hapsburg for his own sins and those of his house. she has made him kneel at last. h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: "you see how i manage to keep the enemy out of _my_ country!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the german offer the german claim--not the austrian nor the turk, for the alliance following germany is to be allowed little force--is that, the civilization of europe now being defeated, a roman pride may be generous to the fallen. before modern germany is routed, as may be seen in the features of its citizens, the nobility of its public works, and the admirable, restrained, and classic sense of its literature, this generosity to a humbled world will take the form of letting nations, of right independent, enjoy some measure of freedom under a german suzerainty. in the matter of property the magnanimous descendants of frederick and william the great will restore the machines which cannot be wrenched from their concrete beds, and the walls of the manufactories. more liquid property, such as jewellery, furniture, pictures--and coin--it will be more difficult to trace. in any case, europe may breathe again, though with a shorter breath than it did before germany conquered at the marne.... this is the majestic vision which the subtle diplomats of berlin present to the admiration of the neutral powers, happily free from wicked passions of war, and not blinded, as are the british, french, russians, italians, belgians, and the serbians, by petty spite. their audience, their triple audience, is part of greece, some of the public of spain, and sections of that of the united states. to the french and the british armies in the west, to the russians in the east, and to the italians upon their frontiers, the terms appear insufficient. therein would seem to lie the gravity of prussia's case. these belligerent powers will go so far as to demand more than the mere restoration of stolen property, from cottage furniture to freedom. and their anger has risen so high that they even propose to make the acquirer of these goods suffer very bitterly indeed. what plea he will then raise under discomforts more serious than those he has caused to the peasants of flanders and of poland, and how those pleas will affect his neutral audience, will have no effect whatever on the result of the war, or on his own unpleasing fate. those appeals will have a certain interest, however, because we know from the past that the german mind is unstable. within fifteen short months it proposed the annihilation of the french armies and the occupation of paris. it failed. it next offered terms upon suffering defeat. it withdrew them. it next made certain at least of a conquest of russia, failed again, offered terms again, withdrew them again; was directed to the blockading of england, failed; thought egypt better, and then changed its mind. it was but yesterday in the mood that this cartoon suggests; to-morrow its mood will have utterly changed again, probably to a whine, perhaps to a scream. such instability is rare in the history of nations which purpose a conquest of others, and it is a very poor furniture for the mind. hilaire belloc. [illustration: the german: "if you will let me keep what i have, i will let _you_ go."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the wolf trap the wolf is not perhaps the beast by which one would most wish one's country to be represented. but the wolf, like every animal when defending its dearest, and when assailed with treachery, has its nobility. and the roman she-wolf certainly has had in all ages her dignity and her force. "thy nurse will hear no master, thy nurse will bear no load, and woe to them that spear her, and woe to them that goad. when all the pack loud baying her bloody lair surrounds, she dies in silence biting hard amidst the dying hounds." italy certainly calls not only for our sympathy, but for our admiration. she has had a very difficult course to steer. the ally for so long of germany and austria, if owing them less and less as time went on, it was difficult for her to break with them. but the day came when she had to break with them, and once again "act for herself." she told them a year ago she would be a party to no aggressive or selfish war, she would be no bully's accomplice. she "denounced"--it is a good word--such a compact. _non haec in foedera veni._ then it was, when the she-wolf showed her teeth, that they offered to give her what was her own. but what would the trentino be worth if germany and austria were victorious? no, the wolf is right, "she must fight for it," and behind austria's underhanded treachery stands germany's open violence and guns. and italy loves freedom. this war is a war made by her people. as of old her king and her diplomats go with them in this new _resorgimento_. and the she-wolf must beware the trap. she needs the spirit again not only of her people and of garibaldi and of victor emmanuel, but of cavour. and she has it. the cartoon suggests all the elements of the situation. the wolf ponders with turned head, half doubtful, half desperate. the poor little cub whimpers pitifully. the hunters dissemble their craft, the trap waits in the path ready to spring. it is not even concealed. is that the irony of the artist, or is it only due to the necessity of making his meaning plain? whichever it is, it is justified. herbert warren. [illustration: the wolf trap "you would make me believe that i shall have my cub given back to me, but i know i shall have to fight for it."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------ahasuerus ii. the legend of the wandering jew obsessed the imagination of the middle age. the tale, which an armenian bishop first told at the abbey of st. albans, concerned a doorkeeper in the house of pontius pilate--or, as some say, a shoemaker in jerusalem--who insulted christ on his way to calvary. he was told by our lord, "i will rest, but thou shalt go on till the last day." christendom saw the strange figure in many places--at hamburg and leipsic and lubeck, at moscow and madrid, even at far bagdad. goodwives in the little mediæval cities, hastening homeward against the rising storm, saw a bent figure posting through the snow, with haggard face and burning eyes, carrying his load of penal immortality, and seeking in vain for "easeful death." there is a profound metaphysic in such popular fancies. good and evil are alike eternal. arthur and charlemagne and ogier the dane are only sleeping and will yet return to save their peoples; and the wandering jew staggers blindly through the ages, seeking the rest which he denied to his lord. in george meredith's "odes in contribution to the song of french history" there is a famous passage on napoleon. france, disillusioned at last, "perceives him fast to a harsher tyrant bound; self-ridden, self-hunted, captive of his aim; material gradeur's ape, the infernal's hound." that is the penalty of mortal presumption. the superman who would shatter the homely decencies of mankind and set his foot on the world's neck is himself bound captive. he is the slave of the djinn whom he has called from the unclean deeps. there can be no end to his quest. weariness does not bring peace, for the whips of the furies are in his own heart. the wandering jew of the middle age was a figure sympathetically conceived. he had still to pay the price in his tortured body, but his soul was at rest, for he had repented his folly. raemaekers in his cartoon follows the conception of gustave doré rather than that of the old fabulists. the modern ahasuerus has no surety of an eventual peace. we have seen the german war lord flitting hungrily from lorraine to poland, from flanders to nish, watching the failure of his troops before nancy and ypres, inditing grandiose proclamations to europe, prophesying a peace which never comes. he is a figure worthy of greek tragedy. the [greek: hubris] which defied the gods has put him outside the homely consolations of mankind. he has devoted his people to the dance of death, and himself, like some new orestes, can find no solace though he seek it wearily in the four corners of the world. john buchan. [illustration: ahasuerus returns "once i drove the christ out of my door, now i am doomed to walk from the northern seas to the southern, from the western shores to the eastern mountains, asking for peace, and none will give it to me."--from the legend of the "wandering jew"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------our candid friend the position of holland and denmark is one of excruciating anxiety to the citizens of those countries. they know that the allies are fighting the battle of their own political existence, but they are so hypnotized with well-founded terror of the implacable tyrant on their flank that they are not only bound to neutrality, but are afraid to express their sympathies too plainly. dutch editors have been admonished and punished under pressure from berlin; the brilliant artist of these cartoons is in danger on his native soil. a leading german newspaper has lately announced that "we will make holland pay with interest for these insults after the war." a german victory would inevitably be followed in a few years by the disappearance from the map of this gallant and interesting little nation, our plucky rival in time past, our honoured friend to-day. no nation has established a stronger claim to maintain its independence, whether we consider the heroic and successful struggles of the dutch for religious and political liberty, their triumphs in discovery, colonization, and naval warfare, their unique contributions to art, or the manly and vigorous character of their people. it is needless to say that we have no designs upon any dutch colony! the dean of st. paul's. [illustration: our candid friend germany, to holland: "i shall have to swallow you up, if only to prevent those english taking your colonies."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------peace and intervention here is pictured a grim fact that the peace cranks would do well to see plainly. the surgeon who is operating on a cancer case cannot allow himself to be satisfied with merely the removal of the visible growth which is causing such present agony to the patient. he must cut and cut deep, must go beyond even the visible roots of the disease, slice down into the clear, firm flesh to make sure and doubly sure that he has cut away the last fragment of the tainted tissues. only by doing so can he reasonably hope to prevent a recurrence of the disease and the necessity of another operation in the years to come. and so only by carrying on this war until the last and least possibility of the taint of militarism remaining in the german system is removed can the allies be satisfied that their task is complete. modern surgery has through anæsthetics taken away from a patient the physical pain of most operations, but modern war affords no relief during its operation. that, however, can be held as no excuse for refusing to "use the knife." what would be said of the surgeon who, because an operation--a life-saving operation--was causing at the time even the utmost agony, stayed his hand, patched up the wound, was content only to stop the momentary pain, and to leave firm-rooted a disease which in all human probability would some time later break out again in all its virulence? what would be said of such a surgeon is only in lesser degree what would be said by posterity of the allies if they consented or were persuaded to apply the bandage and healing herbs of peace to the disease of militarism, to make a surface cure and leave the living tentacles of the disease to grow again deep and strong. but here at least the doctors do not disagree. once and for all the ally surgeons mean to make an end to militarism. the sooner the peace cranks and germany realize that the sooner the operation will be over. boyd cable. [illustration: peace and intervention--german militarism on the operating-table "for the sake of the world's future we must first use the knife."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------little red riding hood if you wish to see the position of holland look at the map of europe as it was before august 4, 1914, and the map of europe as it is to-day. in 1914 holland lay overshadowed by the vast upper jaw-bone of a monster--prussia--a jaw-bone reaching from the dollart to aix-la-chapelle. in august and september, 1914, prussia, by the seizure of belgium, developed a lower jaw-bone reaching from aix-la-chapelle to cassandria on the west schelde. to-day holland lies gripped between these two formidable mandibles that are ready and waiting to close and crush her. for years and years prussia has been waiting to devour holland. why? for the simple reason that holland is rich in the one essential thing that prussia lacks--coast-line. look again at the map and see how holland and belgium together absolutely wall prussia in from the sea. belgium has been taken on by prussia; if we do not tear that lower jaw from prussia, holland will be lost, and the sea-power of england threatened with destruction. the ruffian with the automatic pistol waiting behind the tree requires the life as well as the basket of the little figure advancing toward him. he has been in ambush for forty years. h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: little red riding hood germany lying in wait for holland.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the sea mine when raemaekers pictures von tirpitz to us, he does so with savage scorn. he is not the hard-bitten pirate of story--but a senile, crapulous, lachrymose imbecile; an object of derision. he fits more with one of jacob's tales of longshore soakers, than with the tragedies that have made him infamous. but when he draws von tirpitz's victims, the touch is one of almost harrowing tenderness. the hun is a master of many modes of killing, but however torn, or twisted, or tortured he leaves the murdered, raemaekers can make the dreadful spectacle bearable by the piercing dignity with which he portrays the dead. in none of these cartoons is his _sæva indignatio_ rendered with more sheer beauty of design, or with a craftsmanship more exquisite, than in this monument to the sea-mined prey. the symbolism is perfect, and of the essence of the design. the dead sink slowly to their resting-place, but the merciful twilight of the sea veils from us the glazed horror of the eyes that no piety can now close. even the dumb, senseless fish shoots from the scene in mute and terrified protest, while from these poor corpses there rise surfaceward the silver bubbles of their expiring breath. one seems to see crying human souls prisoned in these spheres. and it is, indeed, such sins as these that cry to heaven for vengeance. blood-guiltiness must rest upon the heads of those that do them, upon the heads of their children--aye, and of their children's children too. this exquisite and tender drawing is something more than the record of inexpiable crime. it is a prophecy. and the prophecy is a curse. arthur pollen. [illustration: the sea mine] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"seduction" the cartoon in which the prussian is depicted as saying to his bound and gagged victim, "ain't i a lovable fellow?" is one of the most pointed and vital of all pictorial, or indeed other, criticisms on the war. it is very important to note that german savagery has not interfered at all with german sentimentalism. the blood of the victim and the tears of the victor flow together in an unpleasing stream. the effect on a normal mind of reading some of the things the germans say, side by side with some of the things they do, is an impression that can quite truly be conveyed only in the violent paradox of the actual picture. it is exactly like being tortured by a man with an ugly face, which we slowly realize to be contorted in an attempt at an affectionate expression. in those soliloquies of self-praise which have constituted almost the whole of prussia's defence in the international controversy, the brigand of the belgian annexation has incessantly said that his apparent hardness is the necessary accompaniment of his inherent strength. nietzsche said: "i give you a new commandment: be hard." and the prussian says: "i am hard," in a prompt and respectful manner. but, as a matter of fact, he is not hard; he is only heavy. he is not indifferent to all feelings; he is only indifferent to everybody else's feelings. at the thought of his own virtues he is always ready to burst into tears. his smiles, however, are even more frequent and more fatuous than his tears; and they are all leers like that which mr. raemaekers has drawn on the face of the expansive prussian officer in the arm-chair. compared with such an exhibition, there is something relatively virile about the tiger cruelty which has occasionally defaced the record of the spaniard or the arab. but to be conquered by such germans as these would be like being eaten by slugs. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: seduction "ain't i a lovable fellow?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------murder on the high seas the recent descent of so many of her citizens from the people now warring in europe has of necessity prevented america from looking on events in europe with a single eye. but the predominant american type and the predominant american frame of mind are still typified by the lithe and sinuous figure of the new england pioneer. it is his tradition to mind his own business, but it is also his business to see that none of the old monarchies make free with his rights or with his people. and he stands for a race that has been cradled in wars with savages. no one knows better the methods of the apache and the mohawk, and when women and children fall into such pitiless hands as these, it goes against the grain with uncle sam to keep his hands off them, even if the women and children are not his own. he would like to be indifferent if he could. he would prefer to smoke his cigar, and pass along, and believe those who tell him that it is none of his affair. but when he does look--and he cannot help looking--he sees a figure of such heavy bestiality that his gorge rises. he must keep his hands clenched in his pockets lest he soils them in striking down the blood-stained gnome before him. can he restrain himself for good? that angry glint in his eye would make one doubt it. here, surely, the artist sees with a truer vision than the politician. and if uncle sam's anger does once get the better of him, if doubts and hesitations are ever thrust on one side, if he takes his stand where his record and his sympathies must make him wish to be, then let it be noted that this base butcher stands dazed and paralyzed by the threat. arthur pollen. [illustration: murder on the high seas "well, have you nearly done?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------ad finem ay--to your end!--to your end amid the execrations of a ravaged world! through all the ages one other only has equalled you in the betrayal of his trust. may your sin come home to you before you go, as did his! may his despair be yours! it is most desperately to be regretted that no personal suffering on your part, in this life at all events, can ever adequately requite you for the desolations you have wrought. outrage on outrage thunders to the sky the tale of thy stupendous infamy,- thy slaughterings,--thy treacheries,--thy thefts,- thy broken pacts,--thy honour in the mire,- thy poor humanity cast off to sate thy pride;- 'twere better thou hadst never lived,--or died ere come to this. i heard a great voice pealing through the heavens, a voice that dwarfed earth's thunders to a moan:- woe! woe! woe, to him by whom this came! his house shall unto him be desolate and, to the end of time, his name shall be a by-word and reproach in all the lands he repined.... and his own shall curse him for the ruin that he brought. who without reason draws the sword- by sword shall perish! the lord hath said ... _so be it, lord!_ john oxenham. [illustration: to the end war and hunger: "now you must accompany us to the end." the kaiser: "yes, to my end."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"u's" it is the essence of great cartooning to see things simply, and to command the technical resources that shall show the things, so simply seen, in an infinite variety of aspects. no series of raemaekers' drawing better exemplifies his quality in both these respects than those which deal with germany's sea crimes. in the cartoon before us the immediate message is of the simplest. the kaiser counts the head of british merchantmen sunk. von tirpitz counts the cost. but note the subtlety of the personation and environment. the kaiser has those terrible haunted eyes that have marked the seer's presentment of him from quite an early stage of the war. there can be no ultimate escape from the dreadful vision that has set the seal of despair on this fine and handsome visage. he is shown, not as a sea monster, but as some rabid, evasive, impatient thing, dashing from point to point--as from policy to policy--with the angry swish that tells the unspoken anger failure everywhere compels. for the victories do not bring surrender, nor does frightfulness inspire terror. the merchant ships still put to sea--and the u boats pay the penalty. the futility of this campaign of murder is typified by making von tirpitz, its inventor, an addle-headed seahorse, the nursery comedian of the sea. stupid and ridiculous bewilderment stares from his foolish eyes. another submarine has failed to find a safe victim in a trading ship, but has been hoisted with its own sea petard. the impotence of the thing! this conference of the admirals of the atlantic, held in the sombre depths, is a biting satire, in its mingled comedy and tragedy, on the effort to win command of the sea from its bottom. arthur pollen. [illustration: "u's" his majesty: "well, tripitz, you've sunk a great many?" tirpitz: "yes, sire, here is another 'u' coming down."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------mater dolorosa you thought to grasp the world; but you shall keep its crown of curses nailed upon your brow. you that have fouled the purple, broke your vow, and sowed the wind of death, the whirlwind you shall reap. shout to your tribal god to bless the blood of this red vintage on the poisoned earth; clash cymbals to him, leap and shout in mirth; call on his name to stay the coming, cleansing flood. we are no hounds of heaven, nor ravening band of earthly wolves to tear your kingdom down. we stand for human reason; at our frown the coward sword shall fall from your accursed hand. we do not speak of vengeance; there shall run no little children's blood beneath our heel. no pregnant woman suffers from our steel; but justice we shall do, as sure as set of sun. or short, or long, the pathway of your feet, stamped on the faces of the innocent dead, must lead where tyrant's road hath ever led. alone, o perjured soul, your justice you shall meet. no sacrifice the balance of her scale can win; no gift of blood and iron can weigh against this one mad mother's agony: in her demented cry a myriad women wail. the equinox of outraged earth shall blaze and flash its levin on your infamous might. man cries to fellow-man; light leaps to light, till foundered, naked, spent, you vanish from our gaze. eden phillpotts. [illustration: mater dolorosa] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"gott strafe italien!" when italy, still straining at the leash which held her, helpless, to the strange and unnatural triplice, began to show signs of awakening consciousness, germany's efforts to lull her back to the unhappy position of silent partner in the world-crime were characteristic of her methods. forthwith italy was loaded with compliments. the country was overrun with "diplomats," which is another name in germany for spies. bribery of the most brazen sort was attempted. the newspapers recalled in chorus that italy was the land of art and chivalry, of song and heroism, of fabled story and manly effort, of honour and loyalty. hark to the _hamburger fremdenblatt_ of february 21, 1915: "the suggestion is made that italy favours the allies. preposterous! even though the palsied hand of england--filled with robber gold--be held out to her, italy's vows, italy's sense of obligation, italy's _word once given_, can never be broken. such a nation of noblemen could have no dealings with hucksters." germany is, indeed, a fine judge of a nation's "word once given" and a nation's "vows," which its chancellor unblushingly declared to be mere scraps of paper. now let us see what the _hamburger nachrichten_ had to say about italy immediately after her secession from the triple alliance: "_nachrichten_, june 1, 1915. that italy should have joined hands with the other noble gentlemen, our enemies, is but natural. it would, of course, be absurd--where all are brigands--were the classical name of brigandage not included in the number.... we do not propose to soil our clean steel with the blood of such filthy italian scum. with our cudgels we shall smash them into pulp." _"gott strafe italien"_ indeed! bombs on st. mark's in venice, on the square of verona, on world treasures unreplaceable. the poisoned breath of germany carries its venom into the land of sunshine and song, whose best day's work in history has been to wrest itself free from the grip of the false friend. ralph d. blumenfeld. [illustration: "gott strafe italien!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------serbia serbia has suffered the fate of belgium. germany and austria, with bulgaria's aid, have plunged another little country "in blood and destruction." another "bleeding piece of earth" bears witness to the recrudescence of the ancient barbarism of the huns. serbia's wounds, "like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips," to beg for vengeance on "these butchers." turkey, whom the artist portrays as a hound lapping up the victim's blood, is fated to share the punishment for the crime. but the prime instigator is the german emperor, whose chancellor, with bitter irony, claims for his master the title of protector of the small nationalities of europe. herr von bethmann-hollweg can on occasion affect the mincing accents of the wolf when that beast seeks to lull the cries of the lamb in its clutches. the german method of waging war has rendered "dreadful objects so familiar" that the essential brutality of the enemy's activities runs a risk of escaping at times the strenuous denunciation which justice demands. but the searching pencil of mr. raemaekers brings home to every seeing eye the true and unvarying character of teutonic "frightfulness." all instincts of humanity are cynically defied on the specious ground of military necessity. mr. raemaekers is at one with milton in repudiating the worthless plea: "so spake the fiend, and with necessity, the tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds." sir sidney lee. [illustration: october in serbia the austro-german-bulgarian attack on serbia began in october, which in holland is called the "butcher's month," as the cattle are then killed preparatory to the winter.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------just a moment--i'm coming here is a drawing that ought to be circulated broadcast throughout australia and new zealand, that ought to hold a place of honour on the walls of their public chambers; should hang in gilded frames in the houses of the rich; be pinned to the rough walls of frame-house and bark humpy in every corner of "the outback." it should thrill the heart of every man, woman, and child down under with pride and thankfulness and satisfaction, should even bring soothing balm to the wounds of those who in the loss of their nearest and dearest have paid the highest and the deepest price for the flaming glory of the anzacs in gallipoli. here in the artist's pencil is a monument to those heroes greater than pinnacles of marble, of beaten brass and carven stone; a monument that has travelled over the world, has spoken to posterity more clearly, more convincingly, and more rememberingly than ever written or word-of-mouth speech could do. it is to the everlasting honour of the people of the anzacs that they refrained from echoing the idle tales which ran whispering in england that the dardanelles campaign was a cruel blunder, that the blood of the anzacs' bravest and best had been uselessly spilt, that their splendid young lives had been an empty sacrifice to the demons of incompetence and inefficiency. to those in australia who in their hearts may feel that shreds of truth were woven in the rumours--that the anzacs were spent on a forlorn hope, were wasted on a task foredoomed to failure--let this simple drawing bring the comfort of the truth. the artist has seen deeper and further than most. the turkish armies held from pouring on russia and serbia, from thumping down the scales of neutrality in greece and roumania perhaps, from massing their troops with the central powers; the kaiser chained on the east and west for the critical months when men and munitions were desperately lacking to the allies, when the extra weight of the turks might have freed the kaiser's power of fierce attack on east and west this is what we already know, what the artist here tells the wide world of the part played by the heroes of the dardanelles. in face of this, who dare hint they suffered and died in vain? boyd cable. [illustration: "just a moment--i'm coming."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the holy war surely the artist when he drew this was endowed with the wisdom of the seer, the vision of the prophet. for it was drawn before the days in which i write, before the russian giant had proved his greatness on the body of the turk, before the bludgeon-strokes in the caucasus, the heart-thrust of erzerum, the torrent of pursuit of the broken turks to mush and trebizond. we know--and i am grateful for the chance to voice our gratitude to him--the greatness of our russian ally. we remember the early days when the kaiser's hosts were pouring in over france, and the russian thrust into galicia drew some of the overwhelming weight from the western front. we realize now the nobility of self-sacrifice that flung an army within reach of the jaws of destruction, that risked its annihilation to draw upon itself some of the sword-strokes that threatened to pierce to the heart of the west. our national and natural instinct of admiration for a hard fighter, and still greater admiration for the apex of good sportmanship, for the friend or foe who can "take a licking," who is a "good loser," went out even more strongly to russia in the dark days when, faced by an overwhelming weight of metal, she was forced and hammered and battered back, losing battle-line after battle-line, stronghold after stronghold, city after city; losing everything except heart and dogged punishment-enduring courage. and how great the russian truly is will surely be known presently to the turk and to the masquerading false "prophet of allah." "no one is great save allah," says william, and even as the turk spoke more truly than he knew in calling the russian great, even as he was bitterly to realize the greatness, so in the fullness of time must william come to realize how great is the allah of the moslem, the christian god whom he has blasphemed, and in whose name he and his people have perpetrated so many crimes and abominations. boyd cable. [illustration: the holy war the turk: "but he is so great." william: "no one is great, save allah, and i am his prophet."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------gott mit uns when we consider the public utterances of the german clergy, we can very easily substitute for their symbol of christian faith this malignant, grotesque, and inhuman monster of louis raemaekers. indeed, our inclination is to thrust the green demon himself into the pulpit of the fatherland; for his wrinkled skull could hatch and his evil mouth utter no more diabolic sentiments than those recorded and applauded from lutheran leipsic, or from the university and the chief protestant pulpit in berlin. such sermons are a part of that national _débâcle_ of reasoning faculty which is the price intellectual germany has paid for the surrender of her soul to prussia. an example or two may be cited from the outrageous mass. professor rheinhold seeby, who teaches theology at berlin university, has described his nation's achievements in belgium and serbia as a work of charity, since germany punishes other states for their good and out of love. pastor philippi, also of berlin, has said that, as god allowed his only son to be crucified, that his scheme of redemption might be accomplished, so germany, god with her, must crucify humanity in order that its ultimate salvation may be secured; and the teutonic nation has been chosen to perform this task, because germany alone is pure and, therefore, a fitting instrument for the divine hand. satan, who has returned to earth in the shape of england, must be utterly destroyed, while the immoral friends and allies of satan are called to share his fate. thus evil will be swept off the earth and the german empire henceforth stand supreme protector of the new kingdom of righteousness. pastor zoebel has ordered no compromise with hell; directed his flock to be pleased at the sufferings of the enemy; and bade them rejoice when thousands of the non-elect are sent to the bottom of the sea. yes, we will give the green devil his robe and bands until germany is in her strait-jacket; after which experience, her conceptions of a supreme being and her own relation thereto may become modified. eden phillpotts. [illustration: "gott mit uns"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the widows of belgium this deeply pathetic picture evokes the memory of many sad and patient faces which we have seen during the last eighteen months. it is the women, after all--wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters--who have the heaviest load to bear in war-time. the courage and heroism which they have shown are an honour to human nature. the world is richer for it; and the sacrifices which they have bravely faced and nobly borne may have a greater effect in convincing mankind of the wickedness and folly of aggressive militarism than all the eloquence of peace advocates. we must not forget that the war has made about six german widows for every one in our country. with these we have no quarrel; we know that family affection is strong in germany, and we are sorry for them. they, like our own suffering women, are the victims of a barbarous ideal of national glory, and a worse than barbarous perversion of patriotism, which in our opponents has become a kind of moral insanity. these pictures will remain long after the war-passion has subsided. they will do their part in preventing a recrudescence of it. who that has ever clamoured for war can face the unspoken reproach in these pitiful eyes? who can think unmoved of the happy romance of wedded love, so early and so sadly terminated? the dean of st. paul's. [illustration: the widows of belgium] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the harvest is ripe the artist spreads before you a view such as you would have on the great wheat-growing plains of hungary, or on the level plateau of asiatic turkey--the vast, unending, monotonous, undivided field of corn. in the background the view is interrupted by two villages from which great clouds of flame and smoke are rising--they are both on fire--and as you look closer at the harvest you see that, instead of wheat, it consists of endless regiments of marching soldiers. "the harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few": here is only one, but he is quite sufficient--"the reaper whose name is death," a skeleton over whose bones the peasant's dress--a shirt and a pair of ragged trousers--hangs loose. the shirt-sleeves of the skeleton are turned well up, as if for more active exertion, as he grasps the two holds of the huge scythe with which he is sweeping down the harvest. this is not war of the old type, with its opportunities for chivalry, its glories, and its pride of manly strength. the german development of war has made it into a mere exercise in killing, a business of slaughter. which side can kill most, and itself outlast the other? when one reads the calculations by which careful statisticians demonstrate that in the first seventeen months of the war germany alone lost over a million of men killed in battle, one feels that this cartoon is not exaggerated. it is the bare truth. the ease with which the giant figure of death mows down the harvest of tiny men corresponds, in fact, to the million of german dead, probably as many among the russians, to which must be added the losses among the austrians, the french, the british, the belgians, italians, serbs, turks, and montenegrins. the appalling total is this vast harvest which covers the plain. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: the harvest is ripe] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"unmasked" the "yellow book," it may be remembered, was the official publication of some of the details of atrocities committed by the huns on the defenceless women and children of ravished belgium. it told in cold and unimpassioned sentences, in plain and simple words more terrible than the most fervid outpourings of patriot or humanitarian, the tale of brutalities, of cold-blooded crimes, of murders and rape and mental and physical tortures beyond the capabilities or the imaginings of savages, possible only in their refinements of cruelty to the civilized apostles of kultur. there are many men in the trenches of the allies to-day who will say that the german soldier is a brave man, that he must be brave to advance to the slaughter of the massed attack, to hold to his trenches under the horrible punishment of heavy artillery fire. as a nation we are always ready to admit and to admire physical courage, and if germany had fought a "clean fight," had "played the game," starkly and straightly, against our fighting men, we could--and our fighting men especially could, and i believe would--have helped her to her feet and shaken hands honestly with her after she was beaten. but with such a brute beast as the unmasking of the "yellow book" has revealed germany to be we can never feel friendship, admiration, or respect. the german is a "dirty fighter," and to the british soldier that alone puts him beyond the pale. he has outraged all the rules and the instincts of chivalry. his bravery in battle is the bravery of a ravening wolf, of a blood-drunk savage animal. it is only left to the allies to treat him as such, to thrash him by brute force, and then to clip his teeth and talons and by treaty and agreement amongst themselves to keep him chained and caged beyond the possibility of another outbreak. boyd cable. [illustration: unmasked the yellow book.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the great surprise in the note to another picture i have remarked on the farcical hypocrisy of the german emperor in presenting himself, as he so often does, as the high priest of several different religions at the same time. they are nearly all of them religions with which he would have no sort of concern, even if his religious pose were as real as it is artificial. being in fact the ruler and representative of a country which alone among european countries builds with complete security upon the conviction that all christianity is dead, he can only be, even in theory, the prince of an extreme protestant state. long before the war it was common for the best caricaturists of europe, and even of germany, to make particular fun of these preposterous temporary papacies in which the kaiser parades himself as if for a fancy-dress ball; and in the accompanying picture mr. raemaekers has returned more or less to this old pantomimic line of satire. the cartoon recalls some of those more good-humoured, but perhaps equally contemptuous, sketches in which the draughtsmen of the french comic papers used to take a particular delight; which made a whole comic bible out of the kaiser's adventures during his visit to palestine. here he appears as moses, and the red sea has been dried up to permit the passage of himself and his people. it would certainly be very satisfactory for german world-politics if the sea could be dried up everywhere; but it is unlikely that the incident will occur, especially in that neighbourhood. it will be long before a german army is as safe in the suez canal as a german navy in the kiel canal; and the higher critics of germany will have no difficulty in proving, in the kiel canal at all events, that the safety is due to human and not to divine wisdom. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: the great surprise moses ii leads his chosen people through the red sea to the promised (eng)land.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------thou art the man! the man of sorrows is flogged, and thorn-crowned, and crucified, and pierced afresh, by this other man of sorrows, who has brought greater bitterness and woe on earth than any other of all time. and in his soul--for soul he must have, though small sign of it is evidenced--he knows it. deceive his dupes as he may--for a time--his own soul must be a very hell of broken hopes, disappointed ambitions, shattered pride, and the hideous knowledge of the holocaust of human life he has deliberately sacrificed to these heathen gods of his. no poorest man on earth would change places with this man-that-might-have-been, for his time draws nigh and his end is perdition. let that other speak: "their souls are mine. their lives were in thy hand;- of thee i do require them! "the fetor of thy grim burnt-offerings comes up to me in clouds of bitterness. thy fell undoings crucify afresh thy lord--who died alike for these and thee. thy works are death:--thy spear is in my side,- o man! o man!--was it for this i died? was it for this?- a valiant people harried to the void,- their fruitful fields a burnt-out wilderness,- their prosperous country ravelled into waste,- their smiling land a vast red sepulchre,- --thy work! "thou art the man! the scales were in thy hand. for this vast wrong i hold thy soul in fee. seek not a scapegoat for thy righteous due, nor hope to void thy countability. until thou purge thy pride and turn to me,- as thou hast done, so be it unto thee!" john oxenham. [illustration: thou art the man "we wage war on divine principles."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------sympathy the cartoon requires no words to tell the story. it holds chapter upon chapter of tragedy. "i will send you to germany after your father!" where is the boy's father in germany? in a prison? mending roads? lying maimed and broken in a rude hospital? digging graves for comrades about to be shot? or, more likely still, in a rough unknown stranger's grave? was the father dragged from his home at louvain, or tirlemont, or vise, or one of the dozen other scenes of outrage and murder--a harmless, hard-working citizen-dragged from his hiding-place and made to suffer "exemplary justice" for having "opposed the kaiser's might," but in reality because he was a belgian, for whose nasty breed there must be demonstrations of germany's frightfulness _pour encourager les autres_? and the child's mother and sisters--what of them? he is dejected, but not broken. there is dignity in the boy's defiant pose. the scene has, perhaps, been enacted hundreds of times in the cities of belgium, where poignant grief has come to a nation which dared to be itself. follow this boy through life and observe the stamp of deep resolve on his character. though he be sent "to germany after your father," though he be for a generation under the german jack-boot, his spirit will sustain him against the conqueror and will triumph in the end. ralph d. blumenfeld. [illustration: sympathy "if i find you again looking so sad, i'll send you to germany after your father."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the refugees the wonder is not that women went mad, but that there are left any sane civilians of the ravished districts of belgium after all those infamies perpetrated under orders by the german troops after the first infuriating check of liége and before the final turning of the german line at the battle of the marne. we have supped full of horrors since, and by an insensible process grown something callous. but we never came near to realizing the belgian agony, and raemaekers does us service by helping to make us see it mirrored in the eyes of this poor raving girl. this indeed is a later incident, but will serve for reminder of the earlier worse. it is really _not_ well to forget. these were not the inevitable horrors of war, but a deliberately calculated effect. there seems no hope of the future of european civilization till the men responsible for such things are brought to realize that, to put it crudely and at its lowest, they don't pay. what the attitude of germany now is may be guessed from the blank refusal even of her bishops to sanction the investigation which cardinal mercier asks for. it is still the gentle wolf's theory that the truculent lamb was entirely to blame. joseph thorp. [illustration: the refugees from gheel gheel has a model asylum for the insane. on the fall of antwerp the inmates were conveyed across the frontier. the cartoon illustrates an incident where a woman, while wheeling a lunatic, herself developed insanity from the scenes she witnessed.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"the junker" there were few things that junkerdom feared so much in modern germany as the growth and effects of socialism; and it is certain that the possible attitude of the german socialists--who were thought by some writers to number somewhere in the neighbourhood of two million--in regard to the war at its outset greatly exercised the minds of junkerdom and the chancellor. a few days after the declaration of war a well-known english socialist said to us, "i believe that the socialists will be strong enough greatly to handicap germany in the carrying on of the war, and possibly, if she meets with reverses in the early stages, to bring about peace before christmas." that was in august, 1914, and we are now well on in the spring of 1916. we reminded the speaker that on a previous occasion, when peace still hung in the balance, he had declared with equal conviction that there would be no war because "the socialists are now too strong in germany not to exercise a preponderating restraining influence." he has proved wrong in both opinions. and one can well imagine that the junker class admires chancellor von bethmann-hollweg for the astute manner in which he has succeeded in shepherding the german socialist sheep for the slaughter, and in muzzling their representatives in the reichstag. clive holland. [illustration: the junker "what i have most admired in you, bethmann, is that you have made socialists our best supporters."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"milieu de fantômes tristes et sans nombre" there is something daunting, even to the mind of one not guilty of war or of massacres, in the thought of multitudes: the multitude of the dead, of the living, of one generation of men since there have been men on earth. and war brings this horror to us daily, or rather nightly, because such great companies of men have suddenly died together, passing in comradeship and community from the known to the unknown. yet dare we say "together?" the unparalleled solitariness and singleness of death is not altered by the general and simultaneous doom of battle. and it is with the multitude, and all the _ones_ in it, that the maker of war is in unconscious relation. he does not know their names, he does not know them by any kind of distinction, he knows them only by thousands. yet every one with a separate life and separate death is in conscious relation with _him_, knows him for the tyrant who has taken his youth, his hope, his love, his fatherhood. what a multitude to meet, whether in thought, in conscience, or in another world! we all, no doubt, try to make the thought of massacre less intolerable to our minds by telling ourselves that the sufferers suffer one by one, to each his own share, and not another's; that though the numbers may appeal, they do not make each man's part more terrible. but this is not much comfort. there is not, it is true, a sum of multiplication; but there is the sum of addition. and that addition--the multitude man by man--the war lord has to reckon with: frederick the great with his men, napoleon with his, the german emperor with his--each one of the innumerable unknown knowing his destroyer. alice meynell. [illustration: "mais quand la voix de dieu l'appela il se voyait seul sur la terre au milieu de fantômes tristes et sans nombre."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------bluebeard's chamber the committee of enquiry, like another portia, clothed in the ermine-trimmed robe of justice and the law, has unlocked with the key of truth the door of the closed chamber. the key lies behind her inscribed in dutch with the name that tells its nature. the committee then pulls back the curtain, and reveals the horrors that are behind it. before the curtain is fully drawn back, enquiry sinks almost in collapse at the terrible sight that is disclosed. there hang to pegs on the wall the bodies of bluebeard's victims, a woman, an old man, a priest, two boys, and a girl still half hidden behind the curtain. the blood that has trickled from them coagulates in pools on the ground. bluebeard himself comes suddenly: he hurries down the steps brandishing his curved sword, a big, burly figure, with square, thick beard, and streaming whiskers, wearing a prussian helmet, his mouth open to utter a roar of rage and fury. the hatred and scorn with which the artist inspires his pictures of prussia are inexhaustible in their variety: prussia is barbarism attempting to trample on law and education, brutality beating down humanity, a grim figure, the incarnation of "frightfulness." i can imagine the feelings with which all germans must regard the picture that the dutch artist always gives of their country, if they regard prussia as their country. "for every cartoon of raemaekers," said a german newspaper, "the payment will be exacted in full, when the reckoning is made up." to this painter the prussian ruling power is incapable of understanding what nobility of nature means. he can practise on and take advantage of the vices and weaknesses of his enemies; he can buy the services of many among them, and have all the worser people in his fee as his servants and agents; but he is always foiled, because he forgets that some men cannot be bought, and that these men will steel their fellow-countrymen's minds to resist tyranny to the last. the mass of men can be led either to evil or to good. the prussian military system assumes the former as certain, and is well skilled in the way. but there is the latter way, too, which prussia never knew and never takes into account as a possibility; and men as a whole prefer the way to good before the way to evil, when both are fully explained and made clear. this saves men, and ruins prussia. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: bluebeard's chamber the horrors perpetrated by the germans were brought to light by the belgian committee of enquiry.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the raid the seaman of history is a chivalrous and romantic figure, a gallant and relentless fighter, a generous and a tender conqueror. in codrington's first letter to his wife after the battle of trafalgar, he tells her to send £100 to one of the french captains who goes to england from the battle as a prisoner of war. the british and french navies cherish a hundred memories of acts like these. if the german navy survives the war what memories will it have? it must search the gaols for the exemplars in peace of the acts that win them the iron cross in war. note in this drawing that the types selected are not in themselves base units of humanity. they have been made so by the beastly crimes superior orders have forced them to commit. but even this has not brought them so low but they wonder at the topsy-turvydom of war that brings them honour where poor black mary only got her deserts in gaol. the crimes of the higher command have passed in germany uncondemned and unbanned by cardinals and bishops. but the conscience of germany cannot be wholly dead. nor will six years only be the term of germany's humiliation and remorse. the spotless white of the naval uniform, sullied and besmirched by those savage cruelties, cannot, any more than the german soul, be brought back "whiter than snow" by any bestowal of the iron cross. the effort to cleanse either would "the multitudinous seas incarnadine." arthur pollen. [illustration: the raid "do you remember black mary of hamburg?" "aye, well." "she got six years for killing a child, whilst we get the iron cross for killing twenty at hartlepool."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------better a living dog than a dead lion here is the grim choice of alternatives presented to other nations by the creed of _deutschland über alles_--the cost of resistance and the reward of submission. on one side lies the man who has fought a good fight "for freedom." he has lost his life but won an immortal memory inscribed upon the cross. the other has saved his life, and lo! it is a "dog's life." he is not even a well-treated dog. harnessed, muzzled, chained, he crawls abjectly on hands and knees and drags painfully along the road, not only the cart, but his heavy master too. in the netherlands and other parts of the continent, where dogs are used to pull little carts, the owner generally pulls too; it is a partnership in which the dog is treated as a friend and visibly enjoys doing his share. partnership with germany is another matter. the dog does all the work, the german takes his ease with his great feet planted on the submissive creature's back. the belligerent nations have made their choice. germany's partners have chosen submission and are playing the dog's part, as they have discovered. the allies on the other side are paying the price of resistance in the sacrifice of life for freedom. and what of the neutrals? they are evading the choice under cover of the allies and waxing fat meanwhile. it is not a very heroic attitude and will exclude them from any voice in the settlement. but we understand their position, and at least they are ready to fight for their own freedom. there are, however, individuals who are not ready to fight at all. they call themselves conscientious objectors, prate of the law of christ, and pose as idealists. if they followed christ they would sacrifice their lives for others, but they are only concerned for their own skins. their place is in the shafts the true idealist lies beneath the cross. arthur shadwell. [illustration: better a living dog than a dead lion the driver: "you are a worthy dutchman. he who lies there was a foolish idealist."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"the burden of the intolerable day" most people have wondered from time to time what the kaiser thinks in his inmost heart and in the solitude of his own chamber about the condition of germany and about the war. what impression has been made on him by the alternation of victories and failures during the last twenty months? after all he has staked everything--he has everything to lose. what does he feel? what impression do the frightful losses of his own people make on him? raemaekers tells in this cartoon. the kaiser has this moment been wakened from sleep by the entrance of a big gorgeously dressed footman, carrying his morning tea. the panelling of the royal chamber in the palace at potsdam is faintly indicated. the kaiser sits up in bed, and a look of agony gathers on his face as he realizes that he has wakened up to the grim horror of a new day, and that the delightful time which he has just been living through was only a dream. he had dreamed that the whole thing was not true--that the war had never really occurred, and that he could face the world with a conscience clear from guilt; and now he has wakened up to bear the burden for another day. it is written in his face what he thinks. you see the deep down-drawn lines in the lower part of the face, the furrows upon the forehead, and the look almost of terror in the eyes. but a smug-faced flunkey offers him a cup of tea with buttered toast, and he must come back to the pretence of that tragi-comedy, the life of the king-emperor. the dutch artist is fully alive to the comic element which underlies that tragedy. the king-emperor, as he awakes from sleep and sits forward from that mountain of pillows, would be a purely comic figure were it not for the terrible tragedy written in his face. a footman in brilliant livery is a comic figure. the splendour of this livery brings out the comic element by its contrast to, and yet its harmony with, the stupid self-satisfaction of the countenance and the curls of the powdered hair. the kaiser, however, awakens to more than the pretences and shams of court life. the vast dreams which he cherished before the war of world-conquest and an invincible germany are fled now, and he must face, open-eyed and awake, the stern reality. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: the awakening "i had such a delightful dream that the whole thing was not true."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------eagle in hen-run the dutchman who could see this cartoon and not admit its simple truth would have to be a very blind pro-german. at present time it pays germany to pretend a friendship for holland, but the premeditated murder of belgium is a plain object-lesson of the sort of friendship and agreement that germany makes with a country and people which stand in her way and are too small to withstand her brute force. can any dutchman doubt what would be holland's fate if germany emerged even moderately victorious from this war? the german war staff would give a good deal to have the control of holland and a free passage to the sea from antwerp. they refrain from using force to gain that control only because they cannot afford to have a fresh frontier to guard and because it is quite useful to have holland neutral and a forbidden ground and water to the armies and navies of the allies, a shield over the heart of berlin and germany. it would pay the germans to have holland with them and openly against the allies, and they would no doubt gladly make an "agreement" to that effect; but there is little likelihood of that as long as the dutch can visualize the "agreement" as clearly as the cartoonist has done here. there are many people who for years past have suspected germany's sinister designs on the whole of the netherlands. the brutal ravaging of belgium, the talk that already runs, openly or in whispers, in germany of "annexation of conquered territories" and "extended borders," tell plainly the same tale--that any agreement between a small country and germany means merely the swallowing-up of the small nation, the "agreement" of a meal with the swallower-up. boyd cable. [illustration: the eagle in the hen-run german eagle: "come along, dutch chicken, we will easily arrange an agreement." the chicken: "yes, in your stomach."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the future there can be no doubting of the future. the allied forces, who in raemaekers' drawing stand for liberty, are assuredly destined to wring the neck of the prussian eagle, which typifies the tyranny of brute force. "for freedom's battle, once begun ... though baffled oft, is ever won." "there is only one master in this country," the kaiser has said of germany. "i am he, and i will not tolerate another." he has also told his people: "there is only one law--my law; the law which i myself lay down." it is supererogatory to dispute either of these imperial pronouncements. the future contents herself with the comment: "out of thine own mouth will i judge thee." the kaiser and his counsellors have now translated words into deeds, and every instrument of savagery has been since august, 1911, enlisted by tyranny in the attempt to overthrow liberty. "a thousand years ago," the kaiser once declared to his army, "the huns under their king attila made themselves a name which still lives in tradition." the future replies to him that he and his fighting hordes will also live in tradition. they will be remembered for their defiance of the conscience of the world, which obeys no call but that of liberty. sidney lee. [illustration: l'avenir] ----------------------------------------------------------------------christ or odin? you cannot well conceive a science, whether it be mathematics, or architecture, or philosophy, without its axioms, dogmas, or first principles. without them there is no basis on which to raise the superstructure. so it is with the science of religion. take christianity: if it is to be taught scientifically, it must start with the most tremendous dogma, the divinity of christ. either christ was or he was not what he claimed to be. if he was not, you must shout with the sanhedrim: "crucify him!" if he was, you must sing with the church: "come, adore him." one thing is certain, you cannot be indifferent to his claim or to him; you must either hate him and his creed, like the prussian warring superman, or love him and it, like england's crusading kings. the cartoon before us is the finished picture which i can trace from its first rough sketch in the hands of kant, through its different stages of development in the schools of hegel, of schopenhauer, of strauss, till it was ready for its final touches in the hands of nietzsche. in fancy i see it hung, on the line, in the prussian picture-gallery under the direction of war lords, whose boasted aim it is that the world shall be governed only by prussian kultur and prussian religion. the fatal mistake made by the teutonic race in the past was, we are told, the adoption of roman culture and roman religion. germany once submitted to an alien god and to an alien creed. she, the mistress of the earth, the mightiest of the mighty, and the most kultured of the kultured, had actually once worshipped "an uncultured peasant galilean," and made profession of "his slave morality." now they had altogether done with christ, the nazarene. the shout had gone forth: "we will not have this man to rule over us." in the future no gods but thor and odin shall rule the "world-dominating race." prussia seemed to think the world's need to-day was the religion not of virtue, but of valour. "in a day now long fled was heard the cry: 'blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth,' but to-day there shall go forth the word: 'blessed are the valiant, for they shall make the earth their throne.' in the past ye heard it said: 'blessed are the poor in spirit,' but now i say to you: 'blessed are the great in soul, for they shall enter into valhalla.' again, in the dark ages it was said to you: 'blessed are the peace-makers,' but now in the blaze of day i say unto you: 'blessed are the war-makers, for they shall be called, if not the children of jahve, the children of odin, who is greater than jahve.'" for those who want more of this mad jargon on the same lines let me refer them to the late professor cramb's book on germany and england. with this cartoon before me, i am driven to fear that when the war is done there will rise up in germany a louder and stronger cry against the christianity of christ than ever was attempted after the franco-prussian war. the "man of blood and iron," the man with the mailed fist and the iron heel, i much apprehend, will not be satisfied with tearing down the emblem of the physical body of christ, but to slake his bloodthirsty spirit he will want to go on to belabour his mystical body no less. god avert it! bernard vaughan. [illustration: "i crush whatever resists me."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------ferdinand in this war, where the ranks of the enemy present to us so many formidable, sinister, and shocking figures, there is one, and perhaps but one, which is purely ridiculous. if we had the heart to relieve our strained feelings by laughter, it would be at the gross coburg traitor, with his bodyguard of assassins and his hidden coat-of-mail, his shaking hands and his painted face. the world has never seen a meaner scoundrel, and we may almost bring ourselves to pity the kaiser, whom circumstances have forced to accept on equal terms a potentate so verminous. but we no longer smile, we are tempted rather to weep, when we think of the nation over whom this ferdinand exercises his disastrous authority. forty years will have expired this spring since the christian peasants of bulgaria rose in arms against the turkish oppressor. after a year of wild mountain fighting, russia, with fraternal devotion, came to their help, and at san stefano in march, 1877, the aspirations of bulgaria were satisfied under russia auspices. ten years later ferdinand the usurper descended upon sofia, shielded by the protection of austria, and since then, under his poisonous rule, the honour and spirit of the once passionate and romantic bulgarian nation have faded like a plant in poison-fumes. raemaekers presents the odious ferdinand to us in the act of starting for the wars--he who faints at the sight of a drawn sword. his hired assassins guard him from his own people and from the revenge of the thousands whom he has injured. but will they always be able to secure so vile a life against the vengeance of history? how soon will fate condescend to crush this painted creature? edmund gosse. [illustration: ferdinand s'en va t'en guerre ne salt s'il reviendra. (old french song adapted.)] ----------------------------------------------------------------------juggernaut yes, kultur, the german juggernaut, has passed this way. there is no mistaking the foul track of his chariot-wheels. kultur is the german god. but there is a greater god still. he sees it all. he speaks,- "_was it for this i died?_ --black clouds of smoke that veil the sight of heaven; black piles of stones which yesterday were homes; and raw black heaps which once were villages; fair towns in ashes, spoiled to suage thy spleen; my temples desecrate, my priests out-cast:- black ruin everywhere, and red,--a land all swamped with blood, and savaged raw and bare; all sickened with the reek and stench of war, and flung a prey to pestilence and want; --thy work! "_for this?_- --life's fair white flower of manhood in the dust; ten thousand thousand hearts made desolate; my troubled world a seething pit of hate; my helpless ones the victims of thy lust;- the broken maids lift hopeless eyes to me, the little ones lift handless arms to me, the tortured women lift white lips to me, the eyes of murdered white-haired sires and dames stare up at me. and the sad anguished eyes of my dumb beasts in agony. --thy work!" john oxenham. [illustration: kultur has passed here] ----------------------------------------------------------------------michael and the marks "the loan: good for 100 marks!" look at him! he is the favoured of the earth, lives in germany, where kultur is peerless, and education complete (even tho' the man may become a martyr of method). war comes! and he is seen, as an almond tree in blossom his years tell, when lo! a war loan is raised with real helfferichian candour, and michael has just stepped out of the darlehnskasse, at oberwesel-on-the-rhine, or other seat of kultur and war loan finance. are visions about? said an american humorist now gone to the shades; and michael, loan note in hand, eyes reversed, after a visit to two or three offices, wants to know, and wonders whether this note can be regarded as "hab und gut," and if so, good for how much? is it a wonder that an artist in a neutral country should depict german affairs as in this condition, and business done in this manner? michael is puzzled; and in the language of the old kent road, "'e dunno where 'e are!" he is puzzled, and not without cause. all who have followed germany's financing of the war share michael's perplexity. brag is a good dog: but it does not do as a foundation for credit. gold at spandau was trumpeted for years as a "war chest"; but when the "best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley," especially when a war does not end, as it should, after a jolly march to paris in six weeks, through a violated and plundered belgium, then comes the rub--and the paper which puzzles michael. a german, possibly dr. helfferich, the german finance minister, may believe, and some do believe, that it does not matter how much "paper," in currency notes, a state, or even a bank, may issue. the more experienced commercial and banking concerns of the world insist upon a visible material, as well as the personal security, to which the german is prone. the round-about method of issuing german war loans unquestionably puzzles michael; but will not impose on the world outside. let it be marked also, that german credit methods have been, in part, the proximate cause of this war; a system of credit-trading may last for some years only to threaten disaster and general ruin. now, it is "neck or nothing"; michael goes the round of the loan offices, and behold him! germany herself fears a crash in credit, and even the german michael feels that it is impending. already the mark exchanges over 30 below par. w. m. j. williams. [illustration: loan jugglery michael: "for my 100 marks i obtained a receipt. i gave this for a second 100 marks and i received a second receipt. for the third loan i gave the second receipt. have i invested 300 marks and has the government got 300, or have both of us got nothing?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------their beresina _"is it still a long way to the beresina?"_ the whole civilized world sincerely hopes not. death, with the grin on his fleshless face, is hurrying them along to it as fast as his troika can go. three black horses abreast he drives--dishonour, disappointment, and disgrace--and the more audacious of the carrion-crows fly croaking ominously alongside. little willie, with the insignia of his family's doom on his head, is not happy in his mind. "father's" plans have not worked smoothly, his promises have not been fulfilled. little willie is concerned for his own future. he is the only soul in the world who is. when the first--the real--napoleon entered russia, on june 24, 1812, he led an army of 414,000 men--the grande armée. when the great retreat began from burnt-out moscow he had less than 100,000. by the time the beresina was reached but little of the grand army was left. "of the cavalry reserve, formerly 32,000 men, only 100 answered the muster-roll." the passage of the river, which was to interpose its barrier between him and the pursuing russians, was an inferno of panic, selfishness, and utter demoralization. finally, to secure his own safety, napoleon had the bridges burnt before half his men had crossed. the roll-call that night totalled 8,000 gaunt spectres, hardly to be called men. _"father, is it still a long way to the beresina?"_ we may surely and rightly put up that question as a prayer to the god whom kaiser william claims as friend, but whom he has flouted and bruised as never mortal man since time began has bruised and flouted friend before. _"is it still a long way to the beresina?"_ god grant them a short quick course, an end forever to militarism, to the wastage it has entailed, and to all those evils which have made such things possible in this year of grace 1916. john oxenham. [illustration: "father, is it still a long way to the beresina?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------new peace offers the present policy of germany is a curious mixture of underhand diplomacy and boastful threats. if she desires to impress the neutral states, she vaunts the great conquests that she has been able to accomplish. she points out, especially to roumania and to greece, how terrible is her vengeance on states which defy her, such as belgium and serbia, while vague promises are given to her near-eastern allies--bulgaria and turkey--that they will have large additions to their territory as a reward for compliance with the dictates of berlin. but, on the other hand, it is very clear that, as part and parcel of this vigorous offensive, germany is already in more quarters than one suggesting that she is quite open to offers of peace. as every one knows, von bülow in switzerland is the head and controlling agent of a great movement in the direction of peace; while lately we have heard of offers made to belgium that if she will acknowledge a commercial dependence on the central empires her territory will be restored to her. similar movements are going on in america, because throughout germany still seeks to pose as a nation which was attacked and had to defend herself, and is therefore quite ready to listen if any reasonable offers come from her enemies to bring the war to a close. the unhappy german imperial chancellor has to play his part in this sorry comedy with such skill as he can manage. to his german countrymen he has to proclaim that the war has been one brilliant progress from the start to the present time. this must be done in order to allay the apprehensions of berlin and to propitiate the ever-increasing demand for more plentiful supplies of food. secretly he has to work quite as hard to secure for the central empires such a conclusion of hostilities as will leave them masters of europe. and, without doubt, he has to put up with a good many indignities in the process. "the worst of it is, i must always deny having been there." kicked out by the allies, he has to pretend that no advances were ever made. perhaps, however, such a task is not uncongenial to the man who began by asserting that solemnly ratified treaties were only "scraps of paper." w. l. courtney. [illustration: new peace offers von bethmann-hollweg "the worst of it is, i must always deny having been there."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the shields of rosselaere the climax of meanness and selfishness would seem to be reached when an armed man shelters himself behind the unarmed; yet it is not the climax, for here the artist depicts a body of german troops sheltering themselves behind women, calculating that the belgians will not fire on their own countrywomen and unarmed friends, and that so the attack may safely gain an advantage. there is a studied contrast between the calm, orderly march of the troops with shouldered arms and the huddled, disorderly progress to which the townspeople are compelled. these are not marching; they are going to their death. several of the women have their hands raised in frantic anguish, their eyes are like the eyes of insanity, and one at least has her mouth open to emit a shriek of terror. two of the men are in even worse condition; they are collapsing, one forward, one backward, with outstretched hands as if grasping at help. the rest march on, courageously or stolidly. some seem hardly to understand, some understand and accept their fate with calm resignation. one old woman walks quietly with bowed head submissive. in the front walks a priest, his hand raised in the gesture of blessing his flock. the heroism of the catholic priesthood both in france and in belgium forms one of the most honourable features of the great war, and stands in striking contrast with the calculating diplomatic policy of the papacy. there is always the same tendency in the "chief priests" of every race and period to be tempted to sacrifice moral considerations to expediency, and to prefer the empty fabric of an imposing church establishment to the people who make the church. but the clergy of belgium are there to prove what the church can do for mankind. this cartoon would be incomplete and would deserve condemnation as inartistic if it were not redeemed by the priest and the old woman. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: the shields of rosselaere at rosselaere the german troops forced the belgian townsfolk to march in front of them] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the obstinacy of nicholas the venerable quip that what is firmness in ourselves is obstinacy in our opponents is illustrated with a ludicrous explicitness in the whole tenor of german official utterance since the failure of the great drives. the obtuseness of the allies is so abysmal (it is again and again complained in the reichstag and through wolff) that they are unable to see that germany is the permanently triumphant victor. whereas for germany, whose cause even the neutrals judge to be lost, to hold out at the cost of untold blood and treasure is merely the manifestation of heaven-conferred german steadfastness. the army into whose obstinate corporate head it is hardest to drive the idea of german military all-powerfulness is the russian, of which retreating units, actually armed with staves against a superbly equipped (but innocent and wantonly attacked) foe, were so stupid as to forget how to be broken and demoralized. and this long, imperturbable, _verdamte_ nicholas, who was declared on the highest german authority (and what higher?) to be annihilated twice, having turned a smashing tactical defeat into strategical victory, bobs up serenely in another and most inconvenient place. absurd; particularly when "what i tell you three times is true." ... neonapoleon didn't remember moscow. but he will. joseph thorp. [illustration: "why, i've killed you twice, and you dare to come back again."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the order of merit turkey had no illusions from the beginning on the subject of the war. if the choice had been left to the nation she would not have become germany's catspaw. unfortunately for turkey, she has had no choice. for years upon years the sultan abdul hamid was turkey. opposition to his will meant death for his opponent. thus turkey became inarticulate. her voice was struck dumb. the revolution was looked upon hopefully as the dawn of a new era. abdul hamid was dethroned; his brother, a puppet, was exalted, anointed, and enthroned. power passed from the crown, not, as expected, to the people and its representatives, but into the hands of a youthful adventurer, in german pay, who has led his country from one folly to another. turkey did not want to fight, but she had no choice, and so she was dragged in by the heels. she has lost much besides her independence. the crafty german has drained her of supplies while giving naught in return. the german's policy is to strive throughout for a weak turkey. the weaker turkey can be made, the better will it be for germany, which hopes still, no matter what may happen elsewhere, so to manipulate things as to dominate the ottoman empire after the war. turkey is still a rich country, in spite of her enormous sacrifices in the past decade. she has been exploited from end to end by the german adventurer, who will continue the process of bleeding so long as there is safety in the method; but turkey is beginning to ask herself, as does the figure of the fat pasha in the cartoon: "and is this all the compensation i get?" an iron cross does not pay for the loss of half a million good soldiers. yet that is the exact measure of turkey's reward. ralph d. blumenfeld. [illustration: the order of merit turkey: "and is this all the compensation i get?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the marshes of pinsk in what are we most like our kinsmen the germans, and in what most unlike? i was convicted of teutonism when first, in germany, i ate "brod und butter," and found the words pronounced in an english way, slurred. but if we are like the germans in the names of simple and childish things, we grow more unlike them, we draw farther apart from them, as we grow up. we love war less and less, as they love it more. we love our word of honour more and more as they, for the love of war, love their word less. there is no nation in the world more unlike us; because there is no war so perfect, so conscious, so complete as the german. and being thus all-predominant, german war is the greatest of outrages on life and death. we english have a singular degree of respect for the dead. it has no doubt expressed itself in some slight follies and vulgarities, such as certain funeral customs, not long gone by; but such respect is a national virtue and emotion. no nation loving war harbours that virtue. and in nothing do the kinsmen with whom we have much language in common differ from us more than in the policy that brought this prussian host to cumber the stagnant waters of the marshes of pinsk. the love of war has cast them there, displayed, profaned, in the "cold obstruction" of their dissolution. corruption is not sensible corruption when it is a secret in earth where no eye, no hand, no breathing can be aware of it. there is no offence in the grave. but the lover of war, the power that loved war so much as to break its oath for the love of war, and for the love of war to strike aside the hand of the peace-maker, arbitration, that power has chosen thus to expose and to betray the multitude of the dead. alice meynell. [illustration: the marshes of pinsk, november, 1915. the kaiser said last spring: "when the leaves fall you'll have peace." they have!] ----------------------------------------------------------------------god with us three _apaches_ sit crouched in shelter waiting the moment to strike. one is old and _gaga_, his ancient fingers splayed on the ground to support him and his face puckered with the petulance of age. one is a soft shapeless figure--clearly with small heart for the business, for he squats there as limp as a sack. one is the true stage conspirator with a long pendulous nose and narrow eyes. his knife is in his teeth, and he would clearly like to keep it there, for he has no stomach for a fight. he will only strike if he can get in a secret blow. the leader of the gang has the furtive air of the criminal, his chin sunk on his breast, and his cap slouched over his brows. his right hand holds a stiletto, his pockets bulge with weapons or plunder, his left hand is raised with the air of a priest encouraging his flock. and his words are the words of religion--"god with us." at the sign the motley crew will get to work. it is wholesome to strip the wrappings from grandiose things. public crimes are no less crimes because they are committed to the sound of trumpets, and the chicanery of crowned intriguers is morally the same as the tricks of hedge bandits. it is privilege of genius to get down to fundamentals. behind the stately speech of international _pourparlers_ and the rhetoric of national appeals burn the old lust and greed and rapine. a stab in the dark is still a stab in the dark though courts and councils are the miscreants. a war of aggression is not less brigandage because the armies march to proud songs and summon the almighty to their aid. raemaekers has done much to clear the eyes of humanity. the monarch of _felix austria_, with the mantle of the holy roman empire still dragging from his shoulders, is no more than a puzzled, broken old man, crowded in this bad business beside the grand turk, against whom his fathers defended europe. the preposterous ferdinand, shorn of his bombast, is only a chicken-hearted assassin. the leader of the band, the all highest himself, when stripped of his white cloak and silver helmet, shows the slouch and the furtive ferocity of the street-corner bravo. and the cry "god with us," which once rallied crusades, has become on such lips the signal of the _apache_. john buchan. [illustration: god with us "at the command 'gott mit uns' you will go for them."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------ferdinand the chameleon there is one whole field of the evil international influence of germany in which ferdinand of bulgaria is a much more important and symbolic person than william of prussia. he is, of course, a cynical cosmopolitan. he is in great part a jew, and an advanced type of that _mauvais juif_ who is the principal obstacle to all the attempts of the more genuine and honest jews to erect a rational status for their people. like almost every man of this type, he is a jingo without being a patriot. that is to say, he is of the type that believes in big armaments and in a diplomacy even more brutal than armaments; but the militarism and diplomacy are not humanized either by the ancient national sanctities which surround the czar of russia, or the spontaneous national popularity which established the king of serbia. he is not national, but international; and even in his peaceful activities has been not so much a neutral as a spy. in the accompanying cartoon the dutch caricaturist has thrust with his pencil at the central point of this falsity. it is something which is probably the central point of everything everywhere, but is especially the central point of everything connected with the deep quarrels of eastern europe. it is religion. russian orthodoxy is an enormously genuine thing; austrian romanism is a genuine thing; islam is a genuine thing; israel, for that matter, is also a genuine thing. but ferdinand of bulgaria is not a genuine thing; and he represents the whole part played by prussia in these ancient disputes. that part is the very reverse of genuine; it is a piece of ludicrous and transparent humbug. if prussia had any religion, it would be a northern perversion of protestantism utterly distant from and indifferent to the controversies of slavonic catholics. but prussia has no religion. for her there is no god; and ferdinand is his prophet. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: ferdinand the chameleon "i was a catholic, but, needing russian help, i became a greek orthodox. now i need the austrians, i again become catholic. should things turn out badly, i can again revert to greek orthodoxy."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the latin sisters the latin sisters! note carefully the expression of france as contrasted with that of italy. france, violated by the hun, exhibits grim determination made sacrosanct by suffering. italy's face glows with enthusiasm. one can conceive of the one fighting on to avenge her martyrs, steadfast to the inevitable end when right triumphs over might. one can conceive of the other drawing her sword because of the blood tie which links them together in a bond that craft and specious lies have tried in vain to sunder. what do they stand for, these two noble sisters? everything which can be included in the word--art. everything which has built up, stone upon stone, the stately temple of civilization, everything which has served to humanize mankind and to differentiate him from the beasts of prussia. looking at these two sisters, one wonders that there are still to be found in england mothers who allow their children to be taught german. one hazards the conjecture that it might well be imparted to exceptionally wicked children, if there be any, because none can question that the teutonic tongue will be spoken almost exclusively in the nethermost deeps of hades until, and probably after, the day of judgment. for my sins i studied german in germany, and i rejoice to think that i have forgotten nearly every word of that raucous and obscene language. had i a child to educate, and the choice between german and choctaw were forced upon me, i should not select german. french, italian, and spanish, cognate tongues, easy to learn, delightful to speak, hold out sweet allurements to english children. do not these suffice? if any mother who happens to read these lines is considering the propriety of teaching german to a daughter, let her weigh well the responsibility which she is deliberately assuming. to master any foreign language, it is necessary to talk much and often with the natives. do englishwomen wish to talk with any huns after this war? what will be the feeling of an english mother whose daughter marries a hun any time within the next twenty years? and such a mother will know that she planted the seed which ripened into catastrophe when she permitted her child to acquire the language of our detestable and detested enemies. horace annesley vachell. [illustration: the latin sisters italy: "indeed she is my sister"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------misunderstood it need not necessarily be supposed that the directors of german destiny, who are not devoid of intelligence, took the ravings of bernhardi over-seriously. he had his special uses no doubt before the day. but on the morrow of the day, when questions of responsibility came to be raised, he became one of many inconvenient witnesses; and there has scarcely been a better joke among the grim humours of this catastrophe than the mission of this redhot-gospeller of the new unchivalry of war to explain to "those idiotic yankees" that he was really an ardent pacifist. the most just, the most brilliant, the most bitter pamphlet of invective could surely not say so much as this reeking cleaver, those bloody hands, that fatuous leer and gesture, this rigid victim. bernhardism was not a mere windy theory. it was exactly practised on the belgian people. and this spare, dignified figure of uncle sam, contemptuously incredulous, is, i make bold to say, a more representative symbol of the american people than one which our impatience sometimes tempts us now to draw. most americans now regret, as pope benedict must regret, that the first most cruel rape of belgium was allowed to pass without formal protest in the name of civilization. but that occasion gone, none other, not the _lusitania_ even, showed so clear an opportunity. a people's sentiments are not necessarily expressed by the action of its government, which moves always in fetters. nor has president wilson's task been as simple as his critics on this or the other side of the atlantic profess to believe. joseph thorp. [illustration: misunderstood bernhardi: "indeed i am the most humane fellow in the world."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------prosperity reigns in flanders wherever prussia rules she has only one method of ruling--that of terror. wherever she finds civilization and the wealth which civilization creates, she can do nothing but despoil. she is as incapable of persuasion as of creation. no people forced to endure her rule have ever been won to prefer it as the alsatians came to prefer the rule of france or as many indians have come to prefer the rule of england. in belgium she has been especially herself in this respect. a wise policy would have dictated such a careful respect for private rights and such a deference to native traditions as might conceivably have weakened the determination of the belgians to resist to the death those who had violated their national independence. but prussia is incapable of such a policy. in any territory which she occupies, whether temporarily or permanently, her only method is terror and her only aim loot. she did indeed send some of her tame socialists to brussels to embark on the hopeless enterprise of persuading the belgian socialists that honour and patriotism were _ideologies bourgeoises_ and that the "economic interests" of belgium would be best promoted by a submission. these pedantic barbarians got the answer which they deserved; but on their pettifogging thesis raemaekers' cartoon is perhaps the best commentary. the "prosperity" of belgium under prussian rule has consisted in the systematic looting, in violation of international law, of the wealth accumulated by the free citizens of belgium, for the advantage of their prussian rulers; while to the mass of the people it has brought and, until it is forever destroyed, can bring nothing but that slavery which the prussians have themselves accepted and which they would now impose upon the whole civilization of europe. cecil chesterton. [illustration: prosperity reigns in flanders four hundred and eighty millions of francs have been imposed as a war tax, but soup is given gratis.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the last hohenzollern behind him stands the embodiment of all that prussian kultur and efficiency mean, wooden uninventiveness, clockwork accuracy of movement--without soul or inspiration. he himself is thin and scraggy--raemaekers has intensified these characteristics, but even so the caricature of the reality is more accurate than unkind. many months ago, this vacuous heir of the house of hohenzollern set to work on the task of overcoming france, and the result ... may be found in bundles of four, going back to the incinerators beyond aix, in the piled corpses before the french positions at and about verdun; some of the results, the swag of the decadent burglar, went back in sacks from the châteaux that this despicable thing polluted and robbed as might any sikes from portland or pentonville. he is the embodiment, himself, of the last phase of prussian kultur. somewhere back in the history of prussia its rulers had to invent and to create, and then kultur brought forth hard men; later, it became possible to copy, and then kultur brought forth mechanical perfection rather than creative perfection, systematized its theories of life and work, and brought into being a class of men just a little meaner, more rigid, more automaton-like, than the original class; having reduced life to one system, and that without soul or ideal, kultur brought forth types lacking more and more in originality. here stands the culminating type; he will copy the good german gott--he is incapable of originating anything--and will "do the same to france." as far as lies in his power, he has done it; in the day of reckoning, germany will judge how he has done it, and it is to be hoped that germany will give him his just reward, for no punishment could be more fitting. the rest of the world already knows his vacuity, his utter uselessness, his criminal decadence. as his father was stripped of the garter, so is he here shown stripped of the attributes to which, in earlier days, he made false claim. there remains a foolish knave posturing--and that is the real crown prince of germany. e. charles vivian. [illustration: gott strafe england! "father says i have to do the same with france."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------piracy in the summer of 1914 germany stood before the world, a nation of immense, and to a great extent of most honourable, achievement. her military greatness had never been in dispute. but in the previous twenty years she had developed an internal industry and an external commerce on a scale and with a rapidity entirely unprecedented. she had to build a navy such as no nation had ever constructed in so short a time. she seemed destined to progress in the immediate future as she had progressed in the immediate past. what has the madness for world conquest done for her now? she has made enemies of all, and made all her enemies suffer. like the strong blind man of history, she has seized the columns of civilization and brought the whole temple down. but has she not destroyed herself utterly amid the ruins? her industry is paralyzed, her commerce gone. her navy is dishonoured. some force she still possesses at sea, but it is force to be expended on sea piracy alone. and it is not piracy that can save her. at most, in her extremity, it will do for her what a life belt does for a lone figure in a deserted ocean. it prolongs the agony that precedes inevitable extinction. it is the throw of the desperate gambler that germany has made, when she flings this last vestige of her honour into the sea. arthur pollen. [illustration: tirpitz's last hope--piracy] ----------------------------------------------------------------------weeping, she hath wept while a world of mourners is plaintively asking, "what has become of our brave dead, where are they? alas! how dark is the world without them, how silent the home, how sad the heart"; whilst the mourner is groping like the blind woman for her lost treasure, the belgian mother, and the belgian widow, and the belgian orphan are on their knees, praying, "eternal rest give to them, o lord; let a perpetual light shine upon them," the christian plea that has echoed down the ages from the day of the maccabees till now, exhorting us to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins. i would remind the broken-hearted mother beseeching me to tell her where can her brave boy be gone, adding, "his was such a lonely journey; did he find his way to god?" of the words of the poet, who finds his answer to her question in the flight of a sea bird sailing sunward from the winter snows: there is a power whose care teaches thy way along the pathless coast, the desert and illimitable air, lone, wandering but not lost: he who from zone to zone guides, through the boundless sky, thy certain flight, in the lone way which thou must tread alone will lead thy steps aright. the brave soldier, who in the discharge of high duty has been suddenly shot into eternity by the fire of the enemy, will surely, far more easily than the migrating bird, wing his flight to god, who, let us pray, will not long withhold him the happy-making vision of heaven. pilgrims homeward-bound, as you readily understand, at different stages of their journey will picture heaven to themselves differently, according as light or darkness, joy or sorrow encompass them. some will picture heaven as the everlasting holiday after the drudgery of school life, others as eternal happiness after a life of suffering and sorrow, others again as home after exile, and some others as never-ending rapture in the sight of god. but to-day, when " frightfulness" is the creed of the enemy, and warfare with atrocities is his gospel, very many amongst us, weary with the long-drawn battle, sick with its ever-recurring horrors, and broken by its ghastly revelations, will lift up their eyes to a land beyond the stars. father bernard vaughan. [illustration: the widows of belgium] ----------------------------------------------------------------------military necessity it may be asserted that the plea of "frightfulness" will not be recognized a "military necessity" when germany is judged, and that this enemy of civilization, even as the enemy of society, will be held responsible for its crimes, though they stand as far above the imagination as beyond the power of a common felon. bill sikes may justly claim "military necessity" for his thefts and murders, if germany can do so for hers. under article no. 46 of the regulations of the hague, we learn that "family honour and rights, individual life and private property must be respected," and, under article no. 47, "all pillage is expressly forbidden." but while it was a political necessity to subscribe to that fundamental formula of civilization, germany's heart recognized no real need to do so, and secretly, in cold blood, at the inspiration of her educated and well-born rulers, she plotted the details of a campaign of murder, rape, arson, and pillage, which demanded the breaking of her oath as its preliminary. well might her chancellor laugh at "the scrap of paper," which stood between germany and belgium, when he reflected on the long list of sacred assurances his perjured country had already planned to break. no viler series of events, in northern france alone, can be cited than those extracted from the note-books of captured and fallen germans. such blood-stained pages must be a tithe of those that returned to germany, but they furnish a full story of what the rank and file accomplished at the instigation and example of their officers. space precludes quotation; but one may refer the reader to "germany's violations of the laws of war,"[a] published under the auspices of the french foreign office. it is a book that should be on the tables at the peace conference. we cannot hang an army for these unspeakable offences, or treat those who burn a village of living beings as we would treat one who made a bonfire of his fellow-man; nor can we condemn to penal servitude a whole nation for bestial outrages on humanity, ordered by its higher command and executed by its troops; but at least we may hope soon to find the offending empire under police supervision of europe, with a ticket-of-leave, whose conditions shall be as strict as an outraged earth knows how to draw them. eden phillpotts. [footnote a: english translation. heinemann.] [illustration: on ticket-of-leave convict: "the next time i'll wear a german helmet and plead 'military necessity.'"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------liberté! liberté, chérie! there have been many surprises in this war. the evil surprises, patiently, scientifically, diabolically matured in the dark for the upsetting and downcasting of a too-trusting world by the enemy of mankind, whose "teuton-faith" will surely forever outrival that "punic-faith" which has hitherto been the by-word for perfidious treachery. the heartening surprises of gallant little belgium and serbia; the renascence of russia; the wonderful upleap to the needs of the times by great, and still more by greater britain; and, not least, the bracing of the loins of our closest allies just across the water. in the very beginning, when the huns tore up that scrap of paper which represented their honour and their right to a place among decent dwellers on the earth, and came sweeping like a dirty flood over belgium and northern france, the overpowering remembrance of 1870 still lay heavy on our sorely-tried neighbours. they had not yet quite found themselves. the huns had a mighty reputation for invincibility. it seemed impossible to stand against them. there were waverings, even crumplings. there were said to be treacheries in high places. the black flood swept on. von kluck was heading for paris, and seemed likely to get there. then suddenly, miraculously as it seemed, his course was diverted. he was tossed aside and flung back. and it is good to recall the reason he himself is said to have given for his failure. "at mons the british taught the french how to die." that is a great saying and worthy of preservation for all time. whether von kluck said it or not does not matter. it represents and immortalizes a mighty fact. france was bending under the terrible impact. britain stood and died. france braced her loins and they have been splendidly braced ever since. the huns were found to be resistible, vulnerable, breakable. the old verve and élan came back with all the old fire, and along with these, new depths of grim courage and tenacity, and, we are told, of spirituality, which may be the making of a new france greater than the world has ever known. and that we shall welcome. france, belgium, serbia, russia have suffered in ways we but faintly comprehend on this side of the water. when the great settling day conies, this new higher spirit of france will, it is to be devoutly hoped, make for restraint in the universal craving for vengeance, and prove a weighty factor in the righteous re-adjustment of things and the proper fitting together of the jig-saw map of europe. john oxenham. [illustration: liberté! liberté, chérie!] ----------------------------------------------------------------------i--"a knavish piece of work" there can be no defence of the spirit of hatred in which the germans have, so fatally for their future, carried on this amazing mad war of theirs, in violation of all human instincts of self-respect and self-preservation, to say nothing of the obligations of religion and morality observed among mankind from the first dawnings of civilization. the knavery, the villainy, and the besotted bestiality of it can never be forgotten, and must never be forgiven, and louis raemaekers, gifted as he is with the rare dramatic genius that discriminates his cartoons, has but discharged an obvious patriotic duty in publishing them to the world at large, as true and faithful witnesses to the unspeakable and inexpiable abominations wrought throughout belgium and french flanders by the germans--which, already, in the course of divine retribution, have involved their own country in material losses it will take from three to four generations to repair; and their once honoured name in contempt, and reprobation, and infamy, wherefrom it can never be redeemed. nevertheless, as an englishman, i shrink from giving any emphasis there may be in my "hand and signature" to these righteously condemnatory and withering cartoons; and because, each one of them, as i turn to it, brings more and more crushingly home to me the transcending sin of england--of every individual englishman with a vote for members of parliament--in not having prepared for this war; a sin that has implicated us in the destruction of the whole rising generation of the flower of our manhood; and, before this date, would have brought us under subjection to germany but for the confidence placed by the rank and file of the british people and nation in lord kitchener of khartum. now--face to face with enemies--from the kaiser downward to his humblest subjects--animated by the highest, noblest ideals, but again perverted for a time--as in the case of their ancestors in the middle ages--by a secular epidemic of "panmania," they are to be faced not with idle reproaches and revilings, still less with undignified taunts and gibes, but with close-drawn lips and clenched teeth, in the determination that, once having cast satan out of them, he shall be bound down to keep the peace of christendom--"for a thousand years." george birdwood. [illustration: we'll give you the title of mpret of poland the new governor has had the title of mpret given to him, the same that was given to the ill-starred prince of wied when made ruler of albania in 1914.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------ii--"sisyphus,--his stone" sisyphus, as the story goes, was a king who widely extended the commerce, and largely increased the wealth, of corinth, but by avaricious and fraudful ways; for the sin whereof he was sentenced after death to the unresting labour of rolling up a hill in tartarus, a huge unhewn block of stone, which so soon as he gets it to the hill top, for all his efforts, rolls down again. in classical representation of the scene he is associated with tantalus and ixion; tantalus, who, presuming too much on his relations with zeus, was after death afflicted with an unquenchable thirst amidst flowing fountains and pellucid lakes--like the lakes of "the thirst of the antelope" in the marvellous mirages of rajputana and mesopotamia--that ever elude his anguished approaches; and with ixion, the meanest and basest of cheats, and most demoniac of murderers, whose posthumous punishment was in being stretched, and broken, and bound, in the figure of the svastika, on a wheel which, self-moved--like the wheels of the vision of ezekiel--whirls forevermore round and round the abyss of the nether world. the moral of these tortures is that we may well and most wisely leave vengeance to "the high gods." they will repay! george birdwood. [illustration: sisyphus] ----------------------------------------------------------------------concrete foundations nothing has damned the germans more in the eyes of other nations, belligerent and neutral alike, and nothing will have a more subtle and lasting influence on future relations, than the revelation of stealthy preparation for conquest under a mask of innocent and friendly intercourse. the whole process of "peaceful penetration," pursued in a thousand ways with infernal ingenuity and relentless determination, is an exhibition of systematic treachery such as all the macchiavellis have never conceived. germany has revealed herself as a nation of spies and assassins. to take advantage of a neighbour's unsuspecting hospitality, to enter his house with an air of open friendship, in order to stab him in the back at a convenient moment, is an act of the basest treachery, denounced by all mankind in all ages. no one would be more shocked by it in private life than the germans themselves. but when it is undertaken methodically on a national scale under the influence of _deutschland über alles_, the same conduct becomes ennobled in their eyes, they throw themselves into it with enthusiasm and lose all sense of honour. such is the moral perversion worked by kultur and the german theory of the state. an inevitable consequence is that in future the movements and proceedings of germans in other countries will be watched with intense suspicion, and if governments do not prevent the sort of thing depicted by mr. raemaekers the people will see to it themselves. the cartoon is not, of course, intended to reflect personally on the owner of krupp's works, who is said to be a gentle-minded and blameless lady. it is her misfortune to be associated by the chance of inheritance with the german war machine and one of the underhand methods by which it has pursued its aims. a. shadwell. [illustration: on concrete foundations big bertha: "what a charming view over flushing harbour! may i build a villa here?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------pallas athene "has it come to this?" well may the goddess ask this question. times are indeed changed since the heroic days. germany has still her great greek scholars, one or two of them among the greatest living, men who know, and can feel, the spirit, as well as the letter, of the old classics. do they remember to-day what the relation of the goddess of wisdom was to the god of war, in homer, when, to use the latin names which are perhaps more familiar, to the general reader than the greek, mars "indulged in lawless rage," and jove sent juno and minerva to check his "frightfulness?" "go! and the great minerva be thine aid; to tame the monster-god minerva knows, and oft afflicts his brutal breast with woes." and how the hero diomede, with minerva's aid, wounded the divine bully and sent him bellowing and whimpering back, only to hear from his father the just rebuke: "to me, perfidious! this lamenting strain? of lawless force shall lawless mars complain? of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! inhuman discord is thy dear delight, the waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight!" it is most true. such has ever been war for war's sake, and when the germans themselves are wounded and beaten, they complain like mars of old of "lawless force." but raemaekers has introduced another touch more roman than greek, and reminding us perhaps of tacitus rather than of homer. who was caligula, and what does his name mean? "little jack-boots," in his childhood the spoiled child of the camp, as a man, and cæsar, the first of the thoroughly mad, as well as bad, emperors of rome, the first to claim divine honours in his lifetime, to pose as an artist and an architect, an orator and a _littérateur_, to have executions carried out under his own eyes, and while he was at meals; who made himself a god, and his horse a consul. minerva blacking the boots of caligula--it is a clever combination! but there is an even worse use of pallas, which war and the german war-lords have made. they have found a new pallas of their own, not the supernal goddess of heavenly wisdom and moderation, but her infernal counterfeit, sung of by a famous english poet in prophetic lines that come back to us to-day with new force. who loves not knowledge, who shall rail against her beauty, may she mix with men and prosper, who shall fix her pillars? let her work prevail---yes, but how do the lines continue? what is she cut from love and faith but some wild pallas from the brain of demons, fiery hot to burst all barriers in her onward race for power? let her know her place, she is the second, not the first. knowledge is power, but, unrestrained by conscience, a very awful power. this is the pallas whom the "demons," from whose brain she has sprung, are using for their demoniac purposes. she too might have her portrait painted--and they. perhaps raemaekers will paint them both before he has done. herbert warner. [illustration: pallas athene "has it come to this?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the wonders of culture of all forms of "kultur" or "frightfulness" that which materializes in the "the terror which flieth by night" is to the intelligent mind at one and the same time the most insensate and damnable. it fails to accomplish, either in paris or in london, the subjugation by terror of the people for which germans seem to hope. it is only in german imagination that it accomplishes "material and satisfactory damage to forts, camps, arsenals, and fortified towns." in reality it inflicts misery and death upon a mere handful of people (horrible as that may be) and destroys chiefly the homes of the poor. it serves no military end, and the damage done is out of all proportion to the expenditure of energy and material used to accomplish it. the fine cartoon which raemaekers has drawn to bring home to the imagination what this form of "kultur" stands for makes it easy for us in london to sympathize with our brothers and sisters in paris. we have as yet been spared daylight raids in the metropolitan area, and so we needed this cartoon to enable us to realize fully what "kultur" by indiscriminate zeppelin bombs means. who cannot see the cruel drama played out in that paris street? the artist has assembled for us in a few living figures all the actors. the dead woman; the orphaned child, as yet scarcely realizing her loss; the bereaved workman, calling down the vengeance of heaven upon the murderers from the air; the stern faces of the _sergents de ville_, evidently feeling keenly their impotence to protect; and in the background other _sergents_, the lines of whose bent backs convey in a marvellous manner and with a touch of real genius the impression of tender solicitude for the injured they are tending. and faintly indicated, further still in the background, the crowd that differs little, whether it be french or english, in its deeper emotions. clive holland. [illustration: the wonders of culture] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"folk who do not understand them" how often have i been asked by sorrow-stricken mothers and wives: "why does not providence intervene either to stop this war, or at least to check its cruelties and horrors?" if for many amongst us not yet bereaved this european massacre is a puzzle, it should not cause us dismay or surprise, if the widow or son-bereaved mother lifts up her hands exclaiming: "why did not god save him? why did he let him be shot down by those huns?" truth to tell, god has, so to speak, tied up his own hands in setting ours free. when he placed the human race upon the surface of this planet he dowered them with freedom, giving to each man self-determining force, by the exercise of which he was to become better than a man or worse than a beast. good and evil, like wheat and cockle, grow together, in the same field. the winnowing is at harvest-time, not before. meanwhile, we ourselves have lived to see the fairest portions of this fair creation of god changed from a garden into a desert--pillaged, ravaged, and brought to utter ruin by shot and shell, sword and fire. when i have said this, i have but uttered a foreword to the hideous story, spoken the prologue only of the "frightful" tragedy. we are all familiar with at least some of the revolting facts and details with which the german soldiery has been found charged and convicted by commissions appointed to investigate the crimes and atrocities adduced against them. the verdicts of french, belgian, and english tribunals are unanimous. they all agree that germany has been caught redhanded in her work of dyeing the map of europe red with innocent blood. when you bend your eyes to the pathetic cartoon standing opposite this letterpress, is there not brought home to you in a way, touching even to tears, the "frightful" consequences of the misuse of human powers, more especially of the attribute of freedom? if germany had chosen to use, instead of brute force, moral force, what a great, grand, and glorious mission might have been hers to-day. if, instead of trying the impossible task of dominating the whole world with her iron hand upon its throat and her iron heel upon its foot, she had been satisfied with the portion of the map already belonging to her, and had not by processes of bureaucratic tyranny driven away millions of her subjects who preferred liberty to slavery, america to germany, by this date she might have consolidated an empire second in the world to none but one. alas! in her over-reaching arrogance she has, on the contrary, set out to de-christianize, de-civilize, and even de-humanize the race for which christ lived and died. our high mission it is to try to save her from herself. already i can read written in letters of blood carved into the gravestone of her corrupted greatness, "ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk!" bernard vaughan. [illustration: les beautes de la guerre folk who do not understand them.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------on the way to calais they are coming, like a tempest, in their endless ranks of gray, while the world throws up a cloud of dust upon their awful way; they're the glorious cannon fodder of the mighty fatherland, born to make the kingdoms tremble and the nations understand. tramp! tramp! tramp! the cannon fodder come along their way to calais, (god help the hearth and home) they'll do his will who taught them, on the earth and on the waves, till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered graves. the garrison and barrack and the fortress give them vent; they sweep, a herd of winter wolves, upon the flying scent; for all their deeds of horror they are told that death atones, and their master's harvest cannot spring till he has sowed their bones. into beasts of prey he's turned them; when they show their teeth and growl. the lash is buried in their cheeks; they're slaughtered if they howl; to their bloody lord of battles must they only bend the knee, for hard as steel and fierce as hell should cannon fodder be. scourge and curses are their portion, pain and hunger without end, till they hail the yell of shrapnel as the welcome of a friend; they drink and burn and rape and laugh to hear the women cry, and do the devil's work to-day, but on the morrow die. drift! drift! drift! the cannon fodder go upon their way to calais, (god feed the carrion crow.) they've done his will who taught them that the germans shall be slaves, till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered graves. eden phillpotts. [illustration: the yser. "we are on our way to calais."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------von bethmann-hollweg and truth _"incorrupta fides, nudaque veritas"_ horace "good faith unstained, and truth all-unadorned" _nuda veritas_: it was horace who in a famous ode first presented the figure of truth thus. and whom did he make her companions and sisters? they were three, and their names were "modesty," "fair dealing," and "good faith." the four sisters do indeed go together in a quadruple alliance and _entente_, and when one is flouted or estranged, the others are alienated and become enemies too. the germans were believed to be--some few still believe them to be--a "truth-loving nation." they had a passion, we were told, for truth, for accuracy, for scientific exactness. theirs might be a blunt and brutal frankness, but they were at least downright and truthful. well, they first flouted modesty--they bragged and blustered, bluffed and "bounded." they could not keep it up. they had to act. fair dealing went by the board. then good faith became impossible, for, as this very von bethmann-hollweg declared, "necessity knew no law." now they have forsaken truth. they must deceive their own people. the "lie" has entered into their soul. never was so systematic a use made of falsehoods small and great. but truth expelled is not powerless. naked, she is still not weaponless. she has her little "periscope," her magic mirror, which shows the liar himself, as well as the world, what he is like. and she has another weapon, as those who know their "paradise lost" will remember: "bright ithuriel's lance truth kindling truth where'er it glance" it is not shown here, for it is invisible, but none the less potent. with it truth can indeed "shame the devil." she not only shows what the liar is like outside, but reveals his inner hideousness, and actual shape, for all to see. there are many sayings about truth, and they are all awkward for the liar. "truth will out," said a witty english judge, "even in an affidavit." it will out, even in a german chancellor's _démenti_. the most famous is "_magna est veritas et prævalet_" "great is truth and she prevails," in the end. yes, "she is on the path, and nothing will stop her." she started on the hills of the little but free republic of switzerland; she is slowly traversing the plains of the vast free republic of america. her last contest will be over the germans themselves. herbert warren. [illustration: von bethmann-hollweg and truth "truth is on the path and nothing will stay her."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------van tromp and de ruyter a generation ago a little clique of wise men at oxford patted themselves on the back for having discovered "the historical method." but the common people of all countries have always known it. the names of the great dead are not forgotten, nor yet the great things for which they stood. there may be no strict liturgy for the ancestor worship of the west, but that worship is a simple fact, and it is a thing that timorous politicians would do well to remember. here raemaekers appeals to his countrymen to regard their past, to be worthy of the great seamen who took the dutch fleet up the medway, and lashed brooms to the mast-head of the ships that swept the sea clear of british enemies. the dutch were fighting for their liberty then. great britain is fighting for liberty in europe to-day--and for dutch liberty to boot. the enemy of all liberty uses holland as a short cut whereby her pirates of the air can get more quickly to their murder work in england. would the hero ancestors, of whom the dutch so boast, have tolerated this indignity? the artist seer supplies the answer. note the mixture of the ghostly and the real in this vivid and vivacious drawing. but if it is easy to see through the faint outlines of the sailor spirits, it is easier for these gallant ghosts to see through the unrealities of their descendants' fears and hesitations. the anger of the heroes is plainly too great for words. how compressed the lips! how tense the attitude! the hands gripped in the angriest sort of impatience! mark the subtle mingling of seaman and burgher in the poise and figures. mark particularly van tromp's stiffened forefinger on his staff. is the fate of l19 the fruit of our artist's stinging reminder that holland once had nobler spirits and braver days? arthur pollen. [illustration: van tromp and de ruyter "so long as you permit zeppelins to cross our land you surely should cease to boast of our deeds." whenever a dutchman wishes to speak of the great past of his country he calls to mind the names of these heroes.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------war and christ the deliberate war made by prussia in all those areas which she can reach or occupy against the symbols and sacred objects of the christian faith is a phenomenon in every way worthy of consideration. it is clearly not a matter of accident. the bombardment at rheims cathedral, for example, can be proved to have been deliberate. it had no military object; and the subsequent attempts to manufacture a military reason for it only produced a version of the occurrence not only incredible but in flat contradiction to the original admissions of the germans themselves. but such episodes as those of rheims and louvain merely attract the attention of the world because of the celebrity of the outraged shrines. all who are familiar with the facts know that deliberate sacrilege no less than deliberate rape and deliberate murder has everywhere marked the track of the german army. the offence has been malignant. that does not, of course, mean that it has been irrational; quite the contrary. one fully admits that prussia, being what she is, has every cause to hate the cross, and every motive to vent the agonized fury of a lost soul upon things sacred to the god she hates. the moral suggested by this cartoon of raemaekers' must not be confused with the ridiculous and unhistoric pretence that war itself is essentially unchristian. when mr. bernard shaw, if i remember right, drew from the affair of rheims the astonishing moral that we cannot have at the same time "glorious wars and glorious cathedrals," he might surely have remembered that the age in which rheims cathedral was built, whatever else it was, was not an age of pacifism. the insult to jesus christ is not in the sword (which in his own words he came to bring), but in the profanation of the sword. it is in cruelty, injustice, treachery, unbridled lust, the worship of unrighteous strength--in fact, in all that can be summed up in the single word "prussia." cecil chesterton. [illustration: war and christ] ----------------------------------------------------------------------barbed wire save for the spiked helmets, the gruesome figures in the foreground of this cartoon might have belonged in life to any one of the warring nationalities. it is a noteworthy fact, however, that not one of the nations at war has shown so little care for its dead as germany, whose corpses lie and rot on every front on which they are engaged. the world cannot blame germany for the introduction of barbed wire as an accessory of war, though it is well known that german wire surpasses any other in sheer devilish ingenuity; not that it is more effective as an entanglement, but its barbs are longer, and are set more closely together, than in the wire used by other nationalities; it is, in short, more frightful, and thus is in keeping with the rest of the accessories of the german war machine. but this in the cartoon is normal barbed wire, with its normal burden. one may question whether the all-highest war lord, who in the course of his many inspections of the various fronts must have seen sights like this, is ever troubled by the thought that these, his men, lie and hang thus for his pleasure, that their ghastly fate is a part of his glorious plan. he set out to remake the world, and here is one of the many results--broken corpses in the waste. part of the plan, broken corpses in the waste. by the waste and the corpses that he made shall men remember the author and framer of this greatest war. e. charles vivian. [illustration: barbed wire] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the higher politics there is a significance in this cartoon which i believe will appeal much more strongly to the firing line than to home. the front distrusts politics, and especially the higher politics. that means the juggling and wire-pulling of the chancelleries, and the front has an uneasy conviction that at the subtleties and craftiness and cunning of the diplomatic game we cannot compete with "the bosche." hard knocks and straight fighting the front does understand, and at that game are cheerfully confident of winning in the long run. it would be bitter news to the fighting men that any peace had been patched up on any terms but those the allies soon or late will be in a position to dictate, to lay down and say flatly, "take them and have peace; or leave them and go on getting licked." the front doesn't like war. no man who has endured the horrors and savagery and "blood, mud, and misery" of civilized warfare could pretend to like it. no man who has endured the long-drawn misery of manning the waterlogged trenches for days and weeks and months can look forward with anything but apprehension to another winter of war. no man who has attacked across the inferno of the shell-and-bullet-swept "neutral ground," or has hung on with tight-clenched teeth to the battered ruins of the forward fire trench under a murderous rain of machine-gun and rifle bullets, a howling tempest of shells, an earth-shaking tornado of high explosives, can but long for the day when peace will be declared and these horrors will be no more than a past nightmare. but the front will "stick it" for another winter or several winters, will go through many bitter attacks and counter-attacks to win the complete victory that will ensure, and alone will ensure, lasting peace. we know our limitations and our weaknesses. we admit that, as the american journalist bluntly put it, we are "poor starters," but we know just as surely he was right in completing the phrase, "but darn good finishers." let the "higher politicians" on our side stand down and leave the fighting men to finish the argument. let them keep the ring clear, and let the front fight it out. the front doesn't mind "taking the responsibility," and it will give "kaiser bill" and "little willie" all the responsibilities they can handle before the great game is over. boyd cable. [illustration: the higher politics the kaiser "we will propose peace terms; if they accept them, we are the gainers, if they refuse them, the responsibility will rest with them."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the loan game raemaekers is pitiless, but never oversteps the truth. national debts are ever national millstones, worn around the neck. they are worn unwillingly, and they are not ornamental; they are a burden, and the weight is sometimes crushing. a prospect of that sort seems to be the lot of several of the "great powers" of europe for the remainder, and the greater portion, of the twentieth century. though german "civilization" were more worthy of such a term and its associations as kultur ten times over, would it become any potentate and his advisers to impose it on so many countries at such a cost in suffering as all this--and more? but kaiser wilhelm and his crew of state-at-any-price men impose not on other peoples only: they impose on their own kith and kin. look at these three sad and apprehensive figures playing the loan game--the first, the second, the third loan! children, says the artist, passing the coin from one hand to another's, and getting richer at each pass!! yes, children, the german people treated so by a few dominies. state dominies and the director (or dupe!) at berlin! no people gains, every people loses by incurring a debt; but in germany, and to-day! to incur an indebtedness, contract a loss, does not suffice; the people must not know it. even the children know that coin has not left them richer: many, very many germans know the kultur war to be ruinous: but berlin must play the game still, and assume that the tricks and aims cannot be understood! it is lack of regard for other nations carried into german finance; and all because the bureaucratic military heart is a stone. the piling up of state paper goes on, but not merrily, as michael goes from darlehnkasse to reichsbank, one, two, three (and is about to go the fourth time!). this game of processions to the kasse does not increase the available wealth within beleaguered germany: and the 100-mark note has no reference to material wealth securing it. now, the commercial magnates of germany realize the crushing fact--no indemnity possible!! and what of the notes which are held? when shades of night fall heavily, and the loan game can be played no more, will the german people, tricked and impoverished, go to bed supperless and silent? german finance is "a scrap of paper." w. m. j. williams. [illustration: we don't understand this loan game in germany there is a game by which children passing a coin from one to another are supposed to but do not get richer.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------a war of rapine true, o liebknecht, it is indeed a war of rapine, engendered, planned, and brought about by the nation to which you belong. yet, foul as is that nation, its foulness is not greater than your futility, by which you show up the strength of that which you oppose with as much effect as our own snowden and casement can claim for their efforts to arrest the work of the allies. men who claim british birth claim also the quality of loyalty, as a rule, and thus there can be little sympathy with such a one as this liebknecht, whom raemaekers shows as a little ascetic in the presence of the sombre war lord. it is part of the plan of nature that every country shall breed men like this: men who are constitutionally opposed to the current of affairs, ridiculously futile, blatantly noisy, the type of which extreme socialists and syndicalists are made. possessed of a certain obstinacy which is almost akin to courage, they accomplish nothing, save to remain in the public eye. such is liebknecht, apostle of a creed that would save the world by the gospel of mediocrity, were human nature other than it is. but, in considering this liebknecht, let us not forget that he has no more love for england, or for any of the allies, than the giant whom he attempts so vainly to oppose: he is an apostle, not of peace, but of mere obstruction, perhaps well-meaning in his way, but as futile as the crown prince, and as ludicrous. e. charles vivian. [illustration: luther-liebknecht in the reichstag "it is a war of rapine! on that i take my stand. i cannot do otherwise." liebknecht was the one member who protested against the war.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the dutch junkers some of these drawings remind us that the great cartoonist's message was primarily delivered to his own countrymen. they explain why he was accused, but not convicted, of endangering the neutrality of the netherlands. he presents the german monster as a menace to all freedom, and not least to the freedom of the dutch people. germany's allies have sold theirs; they are harnessed to the prussian war chariot, and must drag it whither the driver bids them, whip in hand. the nations in arms against germany are fighting for their own and each other's freedom; and the neutrals stand looking anxiously on. raemaekers warns them that their freedom too is at stake. he sees that it will disappear if the allies fail in the struggle, and he shows his countrymen what they may expect. in every country there are some ignoble souls who would rather embrace servitude than fight for freedom. they have a conscientious objection to--danger. how far the dutch junkers deserve raemaekers' satire it is not for foreigners to judge. but we know the type he depicts--the sporting "nuts," with their careful get-up, effeminate paraphernalia, and vacuous countenances. so long as they can wear a sporting costume and carry a gun they are prepared to take a menial place under a prussian over-lord and submit with a feeble fatalism to the loss of national independence. it is light satire in keeping with the subject, and it provides a relief to the sombre tragedy which is the artist's prevailing mood. a. shadwell. [illustration: the dutch junkers "at least we shall get posts as gamekeepers when germany takes us after the war."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the war makers _who are the makers of wars?_ the kings of the earth. _and who are these kings of the earth?_ only men--not always even men of worth, but claiming rule by right of birth. _and wisdom?--does that come by birth?_ nay then--too often the reverse. wise father oft has son perverse, solomon's son was israel's curse. _why suffer things to reason so averse?_ it always has been so, and only now does knowledge grow to that high point where all men know- who would be free must strike the blow. _and how long will man suffer so?_ until his soul of freedom sings, and, strengthened by his sufferings, he breaks the worn-out leading-strings, and calls to stricter reckonings those costliest things--unworthy kings. here you have them!--pilloried for all time! and what a crew! these pitiful self-seekers and their dupes! not the least amazing phenomenon of these most amazing times is the fact that millions of men should consent to be hurled to certain death, and to permit the ruin of their countries, to satisfy the insensate ambitions of rulers, who, when all is said and done, are but men, and in some cases even of alien birth and personally not specially beloved by them. surely one outcome of this world-war will be the birth of a new determination in every nation that its own voice and its own will shall control its own destinies--that no one man or self-appointed clique shall swing it to ruin for his or their own selfish purposes. who pays the piper must in future call the tune. "the world has suffered much too long. o wonder of the ages- o marvel of all time- this wonderful great patience of the peoples! how long, o lord, how long?" the answer cannot come too soon for the good of the world. john oxenham. [illustration: vox populi suprema lex the kaiser: "don't bother about your people, tino. people only have to applaud what we say."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the christmas of kultur, a.d. 1915 mary, worn with grief and fear, covers her emaciated face with scarred hands, as she kneels in prayer before the infant jesus. joseph, grown old and feeble, nails up a barricade of planks to strengthen the door against the missiles of kultur already bursting through it and threatening the sleeping child. so in that first christmas, nineteen centuries ago, he saved mary's child from the baby-massacre ordered by herod to preserve his own throne. kultur, the gathered wisdom of the ages, has brought us back to the same holy war. what a christmas! what a festival of peace and goodwill towards men! people ask: why does god allow it? is god dead? foolish questions. when i was at school i had the good fortune to be under a great teacher whose name is honoured to-day. he used to tell us that the most terrible verse in the bible was: "so he gave them up unto their own hearts' lust and they walked in their own counsels" (ps. lxxxi, 13). man has the knowledge of good and evil; he has eaten of the tree and insists on going his own way. he knows best. is not this the age of science and kultur? we must not cry out if the road we have chosen leads to disaster. yet still the child of christmas lives and a divine light shines round his head. he sleeps. a. shadwell. [illustration: christmas eve joseph: "the holy war is at the door!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------serbia genius has set forth the most brutal characteristic of the hun. in moments of triumph, invariably he is the bully, and, as invariably, he wallows in brutality--witness belgium under his iron heel and, in this cartoon, stricken serbia impotent to ward off the blow about to be dealt by a monstrous fist. that is the teuton conception of war, merry war (_lustige krieg_)! in the english prize-ring we have an axiom indelibly impressed upon novices--"follow up one stout blow with another--_quick_!" that, also, is the consummate art of war. but when a man is knocked out we don't savage him as he lies senseless at our feet. the hun does. his axiom is--"as you are strong, be merciless!" in the small pig-eyes, in the gross, sensual lips, the mandril-like jaw, the misshapen ear, i see not merely a lifelike portrait of a hun but a composite photograph of all huns, something which should hang in every house in the kingdom until the terms of such a peace have been imposed which will make the shambles in belgium, poland, and serbia an eternal nightmare of the past, never to be repeated in the future. and over the anæmic hearts of the trevelyans, the ramsay macdonalds, the arthur ponsonbys, who dare to prattle of a peace that shall not humiliate germany, i would have this cartoon tattooed, not in indigo, but in vermilion. if ulysses grant exacted from the gallant robert lee "unconditional surrender," and if our generation approves--as it does--that grim ultimatum, what will be the verdict of posterity should we as a nation--we who have been spared the unspeakable horrors under which other less isolated countries have been "bled white"--descend to the infamy of a compromise between the powers of darkness and light? the huns respect force, and nothing else. mercy provokes contempt and laughter. i hold no brief for reprisals upon helpless women and children; i am not an advocate of what is called the "commercial extermination of germany"; but it is my sincerest conviction that criminals must be punished. the most highest war lord and his people, not excluding the little children who held high holiday when the _lusitania_ was torpedoed, are--criminals. horace annesley vachell. [illustration: serbia] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the last of the race raemaekers, the master of an infinite variety of moods and touch, reserves a special category of scorn for von tirpitz. savage cruelty in war, the wanton destruction of life and property, the whole gospel of frightfulness--these things have been abandoned (so the historians tell us), not because savagery was bad morals but because it was the worst way of making war. it was wiser to take the enemy's property--and put it to your own use than to destroy it. if it was plundered it was wasted. it was wiser to spare men, women, and children, so that they should be better subjects if they remained conquered, less irreconcilable enemies, if they were restored to their old allegiance. besides, murder, plunder, and rapine demoralized your men. they made them less efficient troops for fighting. doubtless the argument is sound. but it would never have been accepted had not the horrors of savagery been utterly loathsome and repulsive to the nations that abandoned them. conventions in the direction of humanity are not, then, _artificial_ restrictions in the use of force. they are natural restrictions, because all christian and civilized people would far rather observe them than not. germany has revelled in abandoning every restraint. raemaekers shows the cruelty, the wickedness of this in scores of his drawings. here it is its folly that he emphasizes. the submarine is no longer a death-dealing terror. it has become a blubbering fish. and the author of its crimes is no diabolical triton, but a semi-imbecile old dotard, round whom his evil--but terrified--brood have clustered; they fawning on him in terror, he fondling them in shaky, decrepit fondness. note the flaccid paunch, the withered top, and the foolish, hysterical face. how the full-dress cocked hat shames his nakedness! and this, remember, is the german high admiral as history will know him, when the futility of his crimes is proved, their evil put out of memory, and only their foolishness remains! arthur pollen. [illustration: the last of the race von tirpitz: no, my dears, i'm not sending any more of you to those wicked english; the survivors shall go to the zoo."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the curriculum the nations are being educated amain, let us hope. germany has prided herself on her education, her learning, and on her kultur. to-day she is beyond the calculation of all that foresight which has been her boast, and foible. human nature, other than german, has not been on the national curriculum, and, as in other departments of study, what has not been reduced to rule and line is beyond the ken and apprehension. how stupendously wrong a power which could count, and into a european war! on insurrection in india, the cape, and other parts of the british empire! and how naïvely did herr von bethmann-hollweg disclose the _zeitgeist_ of german rulers when with passion he declared britain to be going to war for "a scrap of paper!" a purpose to serve, a treaty becomes "a scrap"--in german courtly hands. the artist depicts a scene, with masterly pencil, where von bethmann-hollweg himself is charged by the all-highest to be schoolmaster. it is a grim department of the training. think of the unseen as well as that shown. what you do see is the lordly, truculent kaiser, raising that menacing finger again. in spacious chair, he sits defiant, aggressive, as a ferocious captain; and there opposite is the "great chancellor," bent, submissive, apprehensive, tablet and pencil ready to take down the very word of kaiserly wisdom and will. what is it? the day's fare for a week! reaching a climax of "no dinner" on saturday, and "hate" on sunday! educative! of course it will be. some day, not so far, even the german people will not regard the orders of the army and navy staff, the cruel mercies of the junkers, as a revelation of heaven's will. three pounds of sugar for a family's monthly supply will educate, even when the gospel of force has been preached for fifty years to a docile people. many of us are in "a strait betwixt two" as we see how thousands of inoffensive old men, women, and children are made to suffer, are placed by the all-highest in this copper and hate school. it is not this, that, and the other that causes this, but the director of the school, who does not, while the miserable scholars do, know what it is to endure "no dinner," not only on saturdays, but many other days. and all to gratify the mad projectors imposing kultur on an unwilling world! w. m. j. williams. [illustration: the new school curriculum william: "write it down, schoolmaster--monday shall be copper day, tuesday, potato day, wednesday, leather day; thursday, gold day, friday, rubber day; saturday, no dinner day; and sunday, hate day!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the dutch journalist to his belgian confrère whether the type here taken is a true criticism of a commercial attitude in a neutral state like holland, it does not become us to discuss. raemaekers is a dutchman, and doubtless a patriotic dutchman. and the patriot, and the patriot alone, has not only the right but the duty of criticising his own country. for us it is better to regard the figure as an international, and often anti-national, character who exists in all nations, and who, even in a belligerent country like our own, can often contrive to be neutral and worse than neutral. a prosperous bully with the white waistcoat and coarse, heavily cuffed hands, with which such prosperity very frequently clothes itself, is represented as thrusting food in the starved face of an evicted belgian and saying: "eat and hold your tongue." the situation is worthy of such record, if only because it emphasizes an element in the general german plot against the world which is often forgotten in phrases about fire and sword. the prussianized person is not only a military tyrant; he is equally and more often a mercantile tyrant. and what is in this respect true of the german is as true or truer of the pro-german. the cosmopolitan agent of prussia is a commercial agent, and works by those modern methods of bribing and sacking, of boycott and blackmail, which are not only meaner, but often more cruel, than militarism. for any one who realizes the power of such international combinations, there is the more credit due to the artists and men of letters who, like raemaekers himself, have decisively chosen their side while the issue was very doubtful. and among the belgian confrères there must certainly have been many who showed as much courage as any soldier, when they decided not to eat and be silent, but to starve and to speak. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: the dutch journalist to his belgian confrère: "eat and hold your tongue."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------a bored critic from homeric warfare to subterranean conflict of modern trenches is a far cry, and ares, god of battles, may well yawn at the entertainment with which the demon of war is providing him. but the spectator of this grim "revue" lacks something of the patience of its creator, and our mephistopheles, marking the god's protest, will doubtless hurry the scene and diversify it with new devilries to restore his interest. indeed, that has happened since raemaekers made his picture. the etiquette of butchery has become more complicated since troy fell, yet it has been so far preserved till now that the fiend measures ares with his eyes and speculates as to how far the martial god may be expected to tolerate his novel engines. will asphyxiating gas, and destruction of non-combatants and neutrals on land and sea, trouble him? or will he demand the rules of the game, and decline to applaud this satire on civilization, although mounted and produced regardless of cost and reckoning? as the devil's own entertainment consists in watching the effects of his masterpiece on this warlike spectator, so it may be that those who "staged" the greatest war in mankind's history derive some bitter instruction from its reception by mankind. they know now that it is condemned by every civilized nation on earth; and before these lines are published their uncivilized catspaws will have ample reason to condemn it also. neutrals there must be, but impartials none. the sense and spirit of the thinking world now go so far with human reason that they demand a condition of freedom for all men and nations, be they weak or powerful. that ideal inspires the majority of human kind, and it follows that the evolution of morals sets strongly on the side of the allies. "war," says bernhardi, "gives a biologically just decision, since its decisions rest on the very nature of things." so be it. eden phillpotts. [illustration: "i say, do suggest something new. this is becoming too boring."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"the peace woman" in this humorous yet pathetic cartoon--humorous because of its truth to the type, and pathetic because of the futility of the effort depicted--with unfailing skill the artist shows the folly of the cry "peace! peace!" when there is none. in the forefront is a type of woman publicist who can never be happy unless the limelight secured by vocal effort and the advocacy of a "crazy" cause is focussed upon her. she calls "peace!" that the world may hear, not attend. behind her stands that other type of detached "peace woman," who has, judging from her placid yet grieved expression, apparently scarcely realized that the war is too serious and has its genesis in causes too deep-rooted to be quelled by her or her kind. one can imagine her saying: "a war! how terrible! it must be stopped." the soldier, who is wise enough to prefer armour-plate even to a shield provided by substantially built peace women clad in white, looks on amused. the thinking world as a whole so looks on at "arks" launched by american millionaire motor manufacturers, and at pacifist conferences held whilst the decision as to whether civilization or savagery shall triumph, and might be greater than right, yet hangs in the balance. there must be no thought of peace otherwise than as the ultimate reward of gallant men fighting in a just cause, and until with it can come permanent security from the "iron fist" of prussian militarism and aggression, and the precepts of bernhardi and his kind are shown to be false. those who talk of peace in the midst of "frightfulness," of piracy, of reckless carnage and colossal sacrifices of human life which are the fruits of an attempt to save by military glory a crapulous dynasty, however good their intention, lack both mental and moral perspective. clive holland. [illustration: the peace woman: "we will march in white before our sons." the neutral soldier: "madam, we would prefer the protection of an armour-plate."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the self-satisfied burgher the artist has depicted the ordinary attitude of a self-satisfied burgher not only in holland but in other countries also. "what does it matter if we are annexed afterwards, so long as we remain neutral now?" that is the sort of speech made by selfish merchants in some of the neutral countries, especially those of scandinavian origin. it is really a variety of the old text: "let us eat, drink, and be merry; for to-morrow we die." why not, it is urged, make the best of present facilities? as long as we are left alone we can pursue our ordinary industrialism. we can heap up our percentages and profits. our trade is in a fairly flourishing condition, and we are making money. no one knows what the future may bring; why, therefore, worry about it? besides, if the worst comes to the worst and germany annexes us, are we quite sure that we shall be in a much worse condition than we are now? it will be to the interest of berlin that we should carry on our usual industrial occupations. our present liberty will probably not be interfered with, and a change of masters does not always mean ruin. so argues the self-satisfied burgher. if life were no more than a mere matter of getting enough to eat and drink and of having a balance at the banker's, his view of the case might pass muster. but a national life depends on spiritual and ideal interests, just as a man's life "consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." freedom is the only principal of growth, and freedom is the one thing which german militarism desires to make impossible for all those whom she gathers into her fold. the loss of liberty means the ruin of all those ends for which a state exists. even the material prosperity which the self-satisfied burgher desires will be definitely sacrificed by a submission to teutonic autocracy. w. l. courtney. [illustration: the self-satisfied burgher "what does it matter if we're annexed afterwards, so long as we remain neutral now?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the decadent war is a fiery winnower of incapacities. many reputations have gone to the scrap-heap since august, 1914. none more surely than that of the braggart crown prince. it is said that this terrible catastrophe was largely of his bringing about and his great desire and hope. well--he has got his desire, and more than he expected. he was going to do mighty things--to smash through the frontier and lead the german hordes triumphantly through france. and what has he done? in the treacherous surprise of the moment he got across the frontier, and there the weighty french fist met the imperial optic, and has since developed many stars in it. he has been held, wasting men, time, opportunity, and his own little apology for a soul. he has done nothing to justify his position or even his existence. he has wrecked his home-life by wanton indulgence. he has made himself notorious by his private lootings of the châteaux cursed with his presence. even in 1870 the native cupidity of the far finer breed of conquerors could not resist the spoils of war, and, to their eternal disgrace, trainloads of loot were sent away to decorate german homes--as burglars' wives might wear the jewellery acquired by their adventurous menfolk in the course of their nefarious operations. but we never heard of "unser fritz," the then crown prince, ransacking the mansions he stayed in. he was a great man and a good--the very last german gentleman. and this decadent is his grandson! "unser fritz" was a very noble-looking man. his grandson--oh, well, look at him and judge for yourselves! of a surety the sight is calculated to heighten one's amazement that any nation under the sun, or craving it, could find in such a personality, even as representative of a once great but now exploding idea, anything whatever even to put up with, much less to worship and die for. the race of hohenzollern has wilted and ravelled out to this. the whole world, outside prussia, devoutly hopes ere long to have seen the last of it. it has been at all times, with the single exception above noted, a hustling, grabbing, self-seeking race. may the eyes of germany soon be opened! then, surely, it will be thrust back into the obscurity whence heaven can only have permitted it to escape for the flagellation of a world which was losing its ideals and needed bracing back with a sharp, stern twist. john oxenham. [illustration: september, 1914, and september, 1915 1914: "now the war begins as we like it." 1915: "but this is not as i wished it to continue." (published after the french success in champagne)] ----------------------------------------------------------------------liquid fire when one sits down to think, there are few things in connection with the devastating war now raging, wild-beast-like, almost throughout the length and breadth of europe, so appalling as the application of science and man's genius to the work of decimating the human species. early in the conflict, which is being fought for the basal principles of civilization and moral human conduct, one was made to realize that the allied powers were opposed to an enemy whose resources were only equalled by his utter negation of the rules of civilized warfare. soon, to the horrors of machine-guns and of high-explosive shells of a calibre and intensity of destructive force never before known, were added the diabolical engines for pouring over the field of battle asphyxiating gases. we know the horrors of that mode of german "frightfulness," and some of us have seen its effects in the slowly dying victims in hospitals. but that was not enough. yet other methods of "frightfulness" and savagery, which would have disgraced the most ruthless conquerors of old, were to be applied by the german emperor in his blasphemous "gott mit uns" campaign. and against the gallant sons of belgium, france, england, and russia in turn were poured out with bestial ingenuity the jets and curtains of "liquid fire" which seared the flesh and blinded the eyes. for this there will be a reckoning if god be still in heaven whilst the world trembles with the shock of conflict, and the souls of men are seared. raemaekers in this cartoon shows not only the horror of such a method of warfare, but also, with unerring pencil, the unwavering spirit of the men who have to meet this "frightfulness." there is a land to be redeemed, and women and children to be avenged, and so the fighting men of the allied nations go gallantly on with their stern, amazed faces set towards victory. clive holland. [illustration: liquid fire] ----------------------------------------------------------------------nish and paris very happily and very graphically has raemaekers here pointed the contrast between the gargantuan hopes with which the kaiser and his junker army embarked on the war, and the exiguous and shadowy fruits of their boasted victories up to the present. they foretold a triumphal entry into the conquered capital of france within a month of the opening of hostilities. yet the irony of fate has, slowly but surely, cooled the early fever of anticipation. the only captured town where the all-highest has found an opportunity of lifting his voice in exultant pæan is nish, a secondary city of the small kingdom of serbia. there, too, he perforce delayed his jubilation until the lapse of some eighteen months after the date provisionally and prematurely fixed in the first ebullition of overconfidence, for his triumphal procession through paris. nish is a town of little more than 20,000 inhabitants; about the size of taunton or hereford--smaller than woking or dartford. working on a basis of comparative populations, the emperor would have to repeat without more delay his bravery at nish in 150 towns of the same size before he could convince his people that he is even now on the point of fulfilling his first rash promises to them of the rapid overthrow of his foes. pursuing the same calculation, he is bound to multiply his present glories 350 times before he can count securely on spending a night as conquering hero in buckingham palace. even the kaiser must know in his heart that woefully, from his own and his people's point of view, did he overestimate his strength at the outset. for the time he contents himself with the backwater of nish for the scene of his oratory of conquest. his vainglorious words may well prove in their environment the prelude of a compulsory confession of failure, which is likely to come at a far briefer interval than the eighteen months which separate the imaginary hope of paris from the slender substance of nish. sidney lee. [illustration: the trials of a court painter "i commenced this as the entry into paris, but i must finish it as the entry into nish."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------gott strafe england! in these sombre times one is grateful for a touch of humour, and it would perhaps be impossible to conceive in all created nature a spectacle so exquisitely ludicrous as the appearance of the prussian in the guise of a wronged man. for, of course, it is the very foundation of the prussian theory that there can be no such thing as a wronged man. might is right. that which physical force has determined and shall determine is the only possible test of justice. that was the diabolic but at least coherent philosophy upon which the kingdom of prussia was originally based and upon which the german empire created by prussia always reposed. nor was that philosophy--which among other things dictated this war--ever questioned, much less abandoned, by the germans so long as it seemed probable to the world and certain to them that they were destined to win. now that it has begun to penetrate even into their mind that they are probably going to lose, we find them suddenly blossoming out as pacifists and humanitarians. especially are they indignant at the "cruelty" of the blockade. it is not necessary to examine seriously a contention so obviously absurd. any one acquainted with the history of war knows the blockade of an enemy's ports is a thing as old as war itself. every one acquainted with the records of the last half-century knows that prussia owes half her prestige to the reduction of paris in 1871--effected solely by the starvation of its civilian inhabitants. but the irony goes deeper than that. look at the face of the prussian in "raemaekers' cartoons" and you will understand why germans in america, holland, and other neutral countries are now talking pacifism and exuding humanitarian sentiment. you will understand why the german chancellor says that in spite of the victorious march of germany from victory to victory his tender heart cannot but plead for the dreadful sufferings of the unhappy, though criminal, allies. then you will laugh; which is good in days like these. cecil chesterton. [illustration: gott strafe england! "now she prevents my sending goods by the holland route!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the pacificist kaiser (the confederates) from time to time of late the kaiser has posed as the champion of peace. his official spokesman, chancellor bethmann-hollweg, has announced the imperial readiness to stay the war--on his master's own terms, which he disdains to define precisely. the emperor and his advisers are involved in a tangle of miscalculations which infest the conduct of the war alike in the field of battle and the council-chamber. but no wild imaginings could encourage a solid hope that the chancellor's peaceful professions would be taken seriously by anybody save his own satellites. loudly the compliant minister vaunted in the reichstag his country's military successes, but he could point to no signs either of any faltering in military preparations on the part of the allies, or of their willingness to entertain humiliating conditions of peace. even in germany clear visions acknowledge that time is fighting valiantly on the side of germany's foes, and that peace can only come when the central powers beg for it on their knees. it is improbable that the kaiser and his chancellor now harbour many real illusions about the future, although they may well be anxious to disguise even to themselves the ultimate issues at stake in the war. their home and foreign policy seems to be conceived in the desperate spirit of the gambler. they appear to be recklessly speculating on the chances of a pacificist rôle conciliating the sympathy of neutrals. they count on the odds that they may convert the public opinion of non-combatant nations to the erroneous belief that germany is the conqueror, and that further resistance to her is futile. but so far the game has miscarried. the recent german professions of zeal for peace fell in neutral countries on deaf or impatient ears. the braggart bulletins of the german press bureau have been valued at their true worth. neutral critics have found in bethmann-hollweg's cry for peace mere wasted breath the chancellor and his master are perilously near losing among neutrals the last shreds of reputation for political sagacity. sidney lee. [illustration: the confederates "did they believe that peace story in the reichstag, bethmann?" "yes, but the allies didn't."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------dinant during the joint expedition to peking, all the other contingents were horrified at the cruelty of the german troops. i have heard how on one occasion a number of chinese women were watching a german regiment at drill, when suddenly the commanding officer ordered his men to open fire upon them. when remonstrated with, he replied that terrorism was humane in the end, because it made the enemy desire peace. for some reason, these atrocities were not very widely known in england; and no one dreamed that such infernal crimes would ever be perpetrated in european war. but such are indeed the calculated methods of germany; and her officers began to order them as soon as her troops crossed the belgian frontier. the german military authorities advise that terrorism should be used sparingly when there is danger of reprisals. accordingly, though many abominable things have been done to civilians in france and russia, and to ourselves when opportunity offered, the worst atrocities were committed in belgium, because belgium is a small country, which had dispensed with universal military service in reliance on the international guarantee of her security. these events of the first month of the war are in danger of being forgotten, now that germany is contending on equal terms against the great nations of europe. but they must not be forgotten. we are fighting against a nation which thinks it good policy to massacre non-combatants, provided only that the sons and brothers of the victims are not in a position to retaliate. w. r. inge. [illustration: dinant--i see father.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"hesperia" (wounded first) sailors of all nationality except german have from time immemorial looked upon themselves as the guardians and protectors of land folk at sea. that is why every sailor in the world, outside the doggeries of hamburg, felt his calling spat upon and his personal pride injured by the sinking of the _lusitania_--by a sailor. it seemed that nothing could be worse than that, and then came the sinking of the _hesperia_, a ship filled with wounded soldiers and hospital nurses. raemaekers brings the fact home to us in this cartoon, not the fact of the english nurses' heroism, which goes without saying, but of german low-down common infamy. the fact has become so commonplace, so accustomed, so everyday that pictures of burning cathedrals, murdered children, and terrified women no longer move us as they did, but this artist, whose command of language seems as infinite and varied as the crimes of the criminals whom god sent him to scourge, has always some stroke in reserve, something to add to what he has said, if need be. in the case of this picture it is the medicine bottle, glass, and spoon flying off the shelf, flung to the floor by the bursting charge of tri-nitro-toluine that adds the last touch as distinctive as the artist's signature. h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: another kind of heroism--the sinking of the hospital ship _hesperia_ (wounded first)] ----------------------------------------------------------------------gallipoli it is a fine touch, or a fortunate accident, in this sketch of raemaekers' that it depicts the officer who has made the mistake as exhibiting the spruceness of a prussian, and the officer who has found out the mistake as having the comparatively battered look of an old turk. the moustaches of the young turk are modelled on the kaiser's, spikes pointing to heaven like spires; while those of his justly incensed superior officer hang loose like those of a human being. the difference is in any case symbolic; for the sort of instinctive and instantaneous self-laudation satirized in this cartoon is much more one of the vices of the new germany than of the antiquated islam. that spirit is not easy to define; and it is easy to confuse it with much more pardonable things. every people can be jingo and vainglorious; it is the mark of this spirit that the instinct to be so acts before any other instinct can act, even those of surprise or anger. every people emphasizes and exaggerates its victories more than its defeats. but this spirit emphasizes its defeats as victories. every national calamity has its consolations; and a nation naturally turns to them as soon as it reasonably can. but it is the stamp of this spirit that it always thinks of the consolation _before_ it even thinks of the calamity. it abounds throughout the whole press of the german empire. but it is most shortly shown in this figure of the young officer, who makes a hero of himself before he has even fully realized that he has made a fool of himself. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: gallipoli turkish general: "what are you firing at? the british evacuated the place twenty-four hours ago!" "sorry, sir--but what a glorious victory!] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the beginning of the expiation it is sometimes an unpleasant necessity to insult a man, in order to make him understand that he is being insulted. indeed, most strenuous and successful appeals to an oppressed populace have involved something of this paradox. we talk of the demagogue flattering the mob; but the most successful demagogue generally abuses it. the men of the crowd rise in revolt, not when they are addressed as "citizens!" but when they are addressed as "slaves!" if this be true even of men daily disturbed by material discomfort and discontent, it is much truer of those cases, not uncommon in history, in which the slave has been soothed with all the external pomp and luxury of a lord. so prophets have denounced the wanton in a palace or the puppet on a throne; and so the dutch caricaturist denounces the gilded captivity of the austrian monarchy, of which the golden trappings are golden chains. but for such a purpose a caricaturist is better than a prophet, and comic pictures better than poetical phrases. it is very vital and wholesome, even for his own sake, to insult the austrian. he ought to be insulted because he is so much more respectable than the prussian, who ought not to be insulted, but only kicked. if austria feels no shame in letting the holy roman empire become the petty province of an unholy barbarian empire, if such high historic symbols no longer affect her, we can only tell her, in as ugly a picture as possible, that she is a lackey carrying luggage. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: the beginning of the expiation] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the shirkers current experience is proving that war is a grim condition of life, and that none can escape its effects. no religious or philosophic precept is potent enough in practical application to prevent its outbreak or to stay its course. the strong man of military age, who claims the right to pursue normal peaceful avocations when his country is at war, pleads guilty, however involuntarily, to aberrations of both mind and heart. there are few who do not conscientiously cherish repugnance for war, but practically none of those to whom so natural a sentiment makes most forcible appeal deem it a man's part to refuse a manifest personal call of natural duty. the conscientious objector to combatant service may in certain rare cases deserve considerate treatment, but very short shrift should await the able-bodied men who, from love of ease or fear of danger, simulate conscientious objection in order to evade a righteous obligation. lack of imagination may be at times as responsible for the sin of the shirker as lack of courage. patriotism is an instinct which works as sluggishly among the unimaginative as among the cowardly and the selfish. the only cure for the sluggish working of the patriotic instinct among the cowardly and the selfish is the sharp stimulus of condign punishment. but among the unimaginative it may be worth experimenting by way of preliminary with earnest and urgent appeals to example such as is offered not only by current experience, but also by literature and history. no shirkers would be left if every subject of the crown were taught to apprehend the significance of henley's interrogation: what have i done for you, england, my england? what is there i would not do, england, my own? sidney lee. [illustration: the shirkers] ----------------------------------------------------------------------one of the kaiser's many mistakes louis botha--we touch our hats to you! you are supremely and triumphantly one of the kaiser's many mistakes. you have proved yourself once again a capable leader and a man among men. you have proved him once more incapable of apprehending the meaning of the word honour. you are an honourable man. even as a foe you fought us fair and we honoured you. you have valiantly helped to dig the grave of his dishonour and have proved him a fool. we thank you! and we thank the memory of the clear-visioned men of those old days who, in spite of the clamour of the bats, persisted in tendering you and yours that right hand of friendship which you have so nobly justified. you fought us fair. you have uprisen from the ashes of the past like the phoenix of old. you are briton with the best. fair fight breeds no ill-will. it is the man, and the nation, that fights foul and flings god and humanity overboard that lays up for itself stores of hatred and outcastry and scorn which the ages shall hardly efface. and germany once was great, and might have been greater. delenda est germania!--so far as germania represents the devil and all his works. the following lines were written fourteen years ago when we welcomed the end of the boer war. we are all grateful that the hope therein expressed has been so amply fulfilled. that it has been so is largely due to the wisdom and statesmanship of louis botha. no matter now the rights and wrongs of it; you fought us bravely and we fought you fair. the fight is done. grip hands! no malice bear! we greet you, brothers, to the nobler strife of building up the newer, larger life! join hands! join hands! ye nations of the stock! and make henceforth a mighty trust for peace;- a great enduring peace that shall withstand the shocks of time and circumstance; and every land shall rise and bless you--and shall never cease to bless you--for that glorious gift of peace. germany, if she had so willed, could have come into that hoped-for trust for peace. but germany would not. she put her own selfish interests before all else and so digs her own grave. john oxenham. [illustration: botha to britain "i have carried out everything in accordance with our compact at vereeniging."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------belgium in holland in the present crisis of belgian affairs there is much to remind the historical student of the events which led to the fall of antwerp in 1585, and the outrageous invasion of the southern netherlands by the army of parma. then, as now, holland opened her arms to her wounded and captive sister. the best flemish scholars and men of letters emigrated to the land where cornheert and spieghel welcomed them. merchants and artisans flocked to a new sphere of energy in amsterdam. several of the professorial chairs in that city, and in the great universities of leyden and harderwijk, were filled by learned flemings, and the arts, that had long been flourishing in brussels, fled northward to escape from the desolating spanish scourge. the grim pencil of raemaekers becomes tender whenever he touches upon the relation of the tortured belgium to her sister, holland, his own beloved fatherland. we do not know yet, in this country, a tithe of the sacrifices which have been made in holland to staunch the tears of belgium. "your sufferings are mine, and so are your fortunes," has been the motto of the loyal dutch. edmund gosse. [illustration: the promise "we shall never sheath the sword until belgium recovers all, and more than all that she has sacrificed."--mr. asquith, 9th november, 1914.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------serbia the fight of the one and the four might, in view of the difference in the size of the combatants, be called quite fairly "the fight of the one and the fifty-three." each of the assailants has his own character. germany is represented as a ferocious giant; austria follows prussia's lead, a little the worse for wear, with a bandaged head as the souvenir of his former campaign: he does his best to look and act like germany. bulgaria loses not a moment, but puts his rifle to his shoulder to shoot the small enemy: he acts in his own way, according to his own character: kill the enemy as quickly as possible and seize the spoil, that is his principle. turkey is a rather broken-down and dilapidated figure, who is preparing to use his bayonet, but has not got it quite ready. serbia, erect, with feet firmly planted, stands facing the chief enemy, a little david against this big goliath and his henchman, austria; and the other two, so recently deadly foes, now standing shoulder to shoulder, attack him while his attention is directed on germany. the leader and "hero" of this assault is prussia, big, brutal, remorseless. the dutch artist always concentrates the spectator's attention on him. you can almost hear the roar coming out of his mouth: "gott strafe serbien." this is the figure, as raemaekers paints him, that goes straight for his object, regardless of moral considerations. serbia is in his way, and serbia must be trampled in the mire. the artist's sympathy is wholly with serbia, who is pictured as the man fighting against the brute, slight but active and noble in build, facing this burly foe. and poor old turkey! always a figure of comedy, never ready in time, always ineffective, never fully able to use the weapons of so-called "civilization." let it always be remembered that in the gallipoli peninsula, when the turks at first were taking no prisoners, but killing the wounded after their own familiar fashion with mutilation, for the sake of such spoil as could be carried away, enver pasha issued an order that thirty piastres should be paid for every prisoner brought in alive, a noble and humane regulation. let us hope that the reward was always paid, not stolen on the way, as has been so often the case in turkey. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: serbia "now we can make an end of him."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------jackals in the political field when the tiger," says the naturalist, "has killed some large animal, such as a buffalo which he cannot consume at one time, the jackals collect round the carcase at a respectful distance and wait patiently until the tiger moves off. then they rush from all directions, carousing upon the slaughtered buffalo, each anxious to eat as much as it can contain in the shortest time." the human jackal is one of the most squalid and sordid creatures and features of war. we saw him in dublin the other day emerging from his slum den to loot sackville street. every battlefield feeds its carrion beasts and birds. this picture of belgium and its jackals is doubtless only too true. mr. raemakers and the dutch have better means of knowing than we. the jackal, says the same naturalist, belongs to the _canidæ_, the "dog tribe." the scientific name of the true dog is _canis familiaris,_ "the household dog." the jackal is _canis aureus_, the "gold dog." the epithet describes no doubt his colour. the human _canis aureus_ perhaps deserves his title on not less obvious grounds. "the continent of europe," the naturalist goes on, "is free from the jackal." it was supposed till yesterday to be free from the lion and tiger. but in the prehistoric times of the cave man, geologists say, there was both in england and europe the great "sabre-tooth" tiger. kipling, who knows everything about beasts, knows him and puts him into his "story of ung": "the sabre-tooth tiger dragging a man to his lair." to-day the cave tiger has come back and with him the cave jackal. there is a terrible beauty about the tiger. the jackal is a mean and hideous brute. but both are out of date. did not monsieur capus say the other day that europe "cannot allow a return of the cave epoch?" herbert warren. [illustration: jackals in the political field jackals (flemish pro-germans): "what he leaves of belgium will be enough for us."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------a letter from the german trenches in this cartoon raemaekers has contrived to indicate powerfully what is after all the dominant and peculiar note of the german people. no european nation has ever taken war--as people say so "seriously," that is, with so much concentration of attention and elaborate preparation, as has the german empire. no people has ever had it so thoroughly drilled into its collective mind as have the german subjects of that empire that war is not only, as all christian people have always believed, an expedient lawful and necessary upon occasion, but a thing highly desirable in itself, nay, the principal function of a "superior" race and the main end of its being. and yet after all the actual german is never, like the frenchman, a natural and instinctive warrior--any more than he is, like the englishman, a natural and instinctive adventurer. the whole business of prussian militarism, with the half-witted philosophy by which it is justified, has to be imposed upon him from without by his masters. he fights just as he works, just as he tortures, violates, and murders, because he is told to do so by persons in a superior position, holding themselves stiffly, dressed in uniform, and able to hit him in the face with a whip. long before the war the absurd koepenick incident gave us a glimpse of this astonishing docility on its farcical side. its tragic side is well illustrated by the droves of helpless and inarticulate barbarians driven into the shambles daily (as at verdun) for the sole purpose of covering up the blunders of their very "efficient" superiors. one could pity the wretches if there were not so considerable a leaven of wickedness in their stupidity. cecil chesterton. [illustration: a letter from the german trenches "we have gained a good bit, our cemeteries now extend as far as the sea."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------his master's voice the manipulation of the press is one of the weapons which bismarck taught german imperialism to use. like others it has been developed by his successors into an instrument which the master himself would hardly have recognized. it is one of the most potent means of that "peaceful penetration" of all other countries which was nothing but a preparation for war. and it has been used in the war with a purposefulness of aim and a versatility of method that betoken long and systematic study. it is a ubiquitous influence and the most subtle of all. yet the press is held in greater contempt by official and other ruling circles in germany than in any other country. they despise the tool, while tacitly acknowledging its utility by unsparing use. this curious state of things is the fault of the press. what has rendered it such a pliant tool in the hands of german imperialism is either credulity or venality; and both are contemptible qualities. credulity is probably the more prevalent, at least in this country, where shoals of newspapers, blinded by their own prejudices, were the dupes of german duplicity. but there has been venality, too, both crude and subtle. the case of the "vlaamsche sten," here satirized by raemaekers, is exceptional. so crude and gross a method of influencing the press as bribing the proprietor of a newspaper (probably with the aid of threats) to hand it over with its staff and goodwill could hardly be practised where any independence survived. it was not practised with success even in conquered flanders, for the staff, to their eternal credit, refused to listen to the new master's voice. but there are journalists who, less intelligent than the terrier, faithfully accept the voice from the _pickelhaube_ and wag their little tails when they hear it. to them is offered the parable which shows their relation to their master. a. shadwell. [illustration: his master's voice the _vlaamsche stem_ (flemish voice), a flemish paper, was bought by the germans, whereupon the whole staff resigned, as it no longer represented its title.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------hun generosity the all-highest, so we are told, loves a joke at another's expense, a trait in his character essentially barbaric. raemaekers reproduces the twinkle in the imperial eye as william of potsdam offers to a quondam ally the foot which belongs to his senile and helpless brother of hapsburg. the roar of anguish from the prostrate octogenarian provokes, as we see, not pity but a grim smile. italy's monarch, we may imagine, is muttering to himself:-_timeo danaos et dona ferentes._ the bribe, wrenched from another, was, of course, indignantly rejected, but one wonders what the secret feelings of the hapsburgs may be toward the hohenzollerns. we know that the turk cherishes no love for the hun who has beguiled him, but we cannot gauge as yet the real strength or weakness of the bond between the huns on the one hand and the austrians and hungarians on the other. raemaekers has portrayed franz josef flat on his back. in the language of the ring he is "down and out." possibly it may have been so from the beginning. at any rate, in this country, there is an amiable disposition to regard franz josef as a victim rather than an accomplice, a weakling writhing beneath the jack-boot of prussia, impotent to hold his own. it may not be so. time alone will reveal the truth. but this much is reasonably certain. when peace is declared, the sincere friendship which once existed between ourselves and the dual monarchy may be reëstablished, but many years must pass before we forgive or forget the huns. they are boasting to-day that as a nation they are self-sufficing and self-supporting. amen! most of us desire nothing better than to leave them alone till they have mended their manners and purged themselves of a colossal and unendurable conceit. i cannot envisage huns playing tennis at wimbledon, or english girls studying music at leipzig. the grass in the streets of homburg will not, for many years, be trodden out by english feet; the harpies of hotel keepers throughout the happy fatherland will prey, it may be presumed, upon their fellow huns. then they will fall to "strafing" each other instead of england. and then, as now, their mouthings will provoke inextinguishable laughter. horace annesley vachell. [illustration: "have another piece?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------easter, 1915 ever since with the beginning of christendom a new soul entered the body of exhausted europe, it is true to say that we have not only had a certain idea but been haunted by it, as by a ghost. it is the idea crystallized in legends like those of st. christopher and st. martin. but it is equally apparent in the most modern ethics and eloquence, as, for instance, when a french atheist orator urged the reconsideration of a criminal case by pointing at the pictured crucifixion which hangs in a french law court and saying: "voilà la chose jugée." it is the idea when that oppressing the lowest we may actually be oppressing the highest, and that not even impersonally, but personally. we may be, as it were, the victims of a divine masquerade; and discover that the greatest of kings can travel incognito. such a picture, therefore, as the cartoonist has drawn here can be found in all ages of christian history as a comment on contemporary oppression. but while the central figure remains always the same, the types of the tyrant and the mocker hold our temporary attention; for they are sketched from life and with a living exactitude. upon one of them especially it would be easy to say a great deal: the grinning prussian youth with the spectacles and the monkey face, who is using a prussian helmet instead of the crown of thorns. such a scientific gutter-snipe is the real and visible fruit of organized german education; he is a much truer type than any gory and hairy hun. in the face of that young atheist there is everything that can come from the congestion of the pagan with the _parvenu_; all the knowingness that is the cessation of knowledge; and that something which always accompanies _real_ atheism--arrested development. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: easter, 1915 "and they bowed the knee before him."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------pan germanicus as peace maker imagine the feelings of the hindlegs of a stage elephant on being told that the performance is to be a continuous one and you will have some inkling of the dismay of the kaiser and his henchman, concealed in the plumage of the war eagle and the dove of peace respectively. the one bird is as useless as the other in bringing the war to the end desired in berlin. the stage eagle is daily losing its plumage, and is rapidly becoming but a moulty apology for the king of birds. as for the dove, it has been used so often, with constantly changing olive branch in its beak, that it now makes its appearance shamefacedly and absolutely without heart. imperial eagle mask with half-mad military quasi-deity inside and dove of peace, on the german model, with calculating miscalculating statesman, you rang the curtain up, you cannot ring it down, either to the music of the hymn of hate or the te deum for peace--the eagle can no longer look boldly straight into the sun, looking for his place in it; the dove has taken permanent quarters in the german ark as it whirls round and round in the whirlpool of impotent effort, ever drawing nearer to the final crash. when the dove of peace does come, it will be a real bird of good omen, not a german reserve officer masquerading as one. alfred stead. [illustration: pan germanicus as peace maker the dove: "they say they do not want peace, as they have time enough." the eagle: "alas! that is just what we haven't got."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------gott mit uns this picture is a perfectly accurate symbolic study of the german empire. therefore, naturally, it is one of the most dreadful that were ever drawn. in all the gruesome "dances of death" in which the fifteenth century took so grim a pleasure, no artist ever conceived the horrible idea of a fat skeleton. but we have not only conceived the thought, we have seen the thing--"a terror in the sunshine." we know that chest, puffed up with a wind of pride, and that stomach heavy with slaughter and rich living; and above them the death's head. we have seen it. we have felt its foul breath. its name is prussia. look at a portrait of frederick the great, the "onlie true begetter" of this abortion. it oddly suggests what raemaekers has set down here: the face a skull, the staring eyes those of a lost soul. but the skeleton has grown fat since frederick's day--fat on the blood and plunder of nations. only there is no living flesh on its bones, nothing of humanity about it. "can these dry bones live?" was the question asked of the prophet. it might have been asked of frederick: "can this nation live, created of your foul witchcraft, without honour, without charity, without human brotherhood or fellowship, without all that which is the flesh and blood of mankind?" the answer must have been that it could live, though with a life coming from below and essentially infernal. it could live--for a time. it could even have great power because its time was short. but now it has waxed fat--and kicked. and its end is near. cecil chesterton. [illustration: it's fattening work] ----------------------------------------------------------------------our lady of antwerp "here i and sorrows sit. this is my throne, bid kings come worship it." such seems to be an appropriate legend for raemaekers' beautiful triptych which he has entitled "our lady of antwerp." full of compassion and sympathy for all the sufferings of her people, she sits with the cathedral outlined behind her, her heart pierced with many agonies. on the left is one of the many widows who have lost their all in this war. on the right is a soldier stricken to death, who has done his utmost service for his country and brings the record of his gallantry to the feet of our lady of antwerp. antwerp, as we know, was at the height of its prosperity in the sixteenth century. we have been told that no fewer than five hundred ships used to enter her port in the course of a day, while more than two thousand could be seen lying in her harbour at one time. her people numbered as many as one million, her fairs attracted merchants from all parts of europe, and at least five hundred million guilders were put into circulation every year. we know what followed. its very prosperity proved a bait to the conqueror. in 1576 the city was captured by the spaniards, who pillaged it for three days. nine years later the duke of parma conquered it, and about the time when queen elizabeth was resisting the might of spain antwerp's glory had departed and its trade was ruined. at the close of the napoleonic wars the city was handed over to the belgians. a place of many memories, whose geographical position was well calculated to arouse the cupidity of the germans, was bound to be gallantly defended by the little nation to which it now belonged. whether earlier help by the british might or might not have altered the course of history we cannot tell. perhaps it was not soon enough realized how important it was to keep the hun invader from the sacred soil. at all events we do not look back on the british expedition in aid of antwerp in 1914 with any satisfaction, because the assistance rendered was either not ample enough or else it was belated, or both. so that our lady of antwerp has still to bewail the ruthless tyranny of berlin, though perhaps she looks forward to the time when, once more in possession of her own cities, belgium may enter upon a new course of prosperity. we are pledged to restore belgium, doubly and trebly pledged, by the words of the prime minister, and justice will not be done until the great act of liberation is accomplished. w. l. courtney. [illustration: our lady of antwerp] ----------------------------------------------------------------------deportation nothing, when one analyzes it, could be imagined more thoroughly characteristic of prussia than the particular stroke of policy by which a large proportion of the male population of belgium--as also in a somewhat lesser degree of northern france--was separated from its family ties and hurried away into exile in germany, there to be compelled to work for the profit of enemies. it had all the marks of prussianism. firstly, it was a violation of the civilized and christian tradition of european arms. by the rules of such warfare the non-combatant was spared, wherever possible; not only his life but his property and liberty were secure so long as he did not abuse his position. secondly, it was an affront to decent human sentiment quite apart from technical rules; the man, guilty of no offence save that of belonging to a country which prussia had invaded without justice and ravaged without mercy, was torn from his family, who were left to the mercy of their opponents. we all know what that mercy was like. thirdly, it was an insult to the human soul, for the unfortunate victims were not only to be exiled from their country, but to be driven by force and terror to serve against it. fourthly, and finally, like all the worst prussian crimes, it was a stupid blunder. prussia has paid already a very high price for any advantage she may have gained from the mutinous and unwilling labour of these men, and for the swelling of her official return for the edification of her own people and of neutrals by the inclusion of "prisoners of war" of this description. to-day, when she knows not where to turn for men, she is obliged to keep a huge garrison tied up in belgium to guard her line of retreat. and when the retreat itself comes, the price will rise even higher, and the nemesis will be both just and terrible. cecil chesterton. [illustration: husbands and fathers belgian workmen were forcibly deported to germany.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the german band the german band, as we know it in this country, has never been noted for harmonious music. blatancy, stridency, false notes, and persistency after the coppers, have been its chief characteristics. and the same things prevail when it is at home. never since the world began has there been such a campaign of barefaced humbug and lying as that organized by william, hindenburg, hollweg and co. for the deceiving and fleecing of the much-tried countries temporarily under their sway. but the money had to be got in by hook or by crook, and by hook and by crook and in every nefarious way they have milked their unfortunate peoples dry. but there is another side to all this. in time, the veil of lies and false intelligence of victories in the north sea, and at verdun, and, indeed, wherever germany has fought and failed, will be rent by the spear of truth. then will come the _débâcle_. and then, unless every scrap of grit and backbone has been prussianized out of the teuton, the revulsion of feeling will sweep the oppressors out of existence; and germany, released from the strangle-hold, may rise once more to take the place among the civilized nations of the world which, by her foul doings of the last two years, she has deliberately forfeited. john oxenham. [illustration: war loan music "was blazen die trompeten moneten heraus?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------arcades ambo looking at this cartoon one can understand why raemaekers is not _persona grata_ in the happy fatherland. with half a dozen touches he has changed satan from the magnificent prince of evil whom gustave doré portrayed into a--hun. henceforth we shall envisage satan as a hun, talking the obscene tongue--now almost the universal language in hades--and hailed by right-thinking huns as the all highest war lord. willy senior must be jealous. with the learned professor, the cartoonist not only produces a composite portrait of all the _herren professoren_, but also drives home the point of his amazing pencil into what is perhaps the most instructive lesson of this monstrous war--the perversion to evil uses of powers originally designed, nourished, and expanded to benefit mankind. when the _furor teutonicus_ has finally expended itself, we do not envy the feelings of the illustrious chemists who perfected poison gas and liquid fire! will they, when their hour comes, find it easy to obey the poet's injunction, and, wrapping the mantle of their past about them, "lie down to pleasant dreams?" we are assured that these professors have not exhausted their powers of frightfulness. it may be so. this is certain: such frightfulness will ultimately exhaust them. with this reflection, we may leave them, grist to be ground by the mills of god. horace annesley vachell. [illustration: arcades ambo the professor: "i have discovered a new mixture which will blind them in half an hour." satan: "you are in very truth my master."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"is it you, mother?" since the opening of hostilities in the present war the scottish regiments have given repeated proofs of a valour which adds new lustre to the great traditions of scottish soldiership. through all the early operations--on the retreat from mons and at the battles of the marne and the aisne--the royal scots guards, the scots greys, the gordon, the seaforth and the argyll and sutherland highlanders, the king's own scottish borderers gained many fresh laurels by their heroism and undaunted spirit. the london scottish territorials, too, have shown a prowess as signal as that of the scots of the regular army; while the mettle of men of scottish descent has made glorious contribution in france and elsewhere to the fine records of the overseas armies. it is the inevitable corollary that death should levy a heavy toll on scottish soldiers in the field. thousands of kilted youth have suffered the fate which raemaekers depicts in the accompanying cartoon. it is not, of course, only the young scot whose thought turns in the moment of death to the hearth of his home with vivid memories of his mother. but the word "home" and all that the word connotes often makes a more urgent appeal to the scot abroad than to the man of another nationality. there is significance in the fact that, far as the scots are wont to wander over the world's surface, they should, under every sky and in every turning fortune, treasure as a national anthem the song which has the refrain:- "for it's hame, an' it's hame, fain wad i be, o! it's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!" the german soldier in this war would seem to have lost well nigh all touch of humanity. yet the draughtsman here suggests that even the german soldier on occasion yields to the pathos of the young scot's death-cry for home and mother. there is grim irony in the dying man's blurred vision which mistakes the hand of his mortal foe for that of his mother. of such trying scenes is the drama of war composed. sidney lee. [illustration: "is it you, mother?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the fate of flemish art at the hands of kultur it will not be possible to estimate the injury suffered by the monuments of art wherein belgium was so rich till the war is ended and the ruins examined. much of the irreparable loss we know, as in the cases of louvain and ypres. in general we may fairly conjecture that whatever is portable behind the german lines is stolen, or will be, and the rest destroyed. what is portable is stolen for its cash value, just as are money, furniture, clothes, and watches. so much of respect for works of art we may expect from the prussians--the measure of respect for the cash shewn by the prussian general at termonde who robbed a helpless civilian of the 5,000 francs he had drawn to pay his workmen's wages, and then called earth and heaven to witness his exalted virtue in not also murdering his victim. but what cannot be carried--a cathedral, a monument, an ancient window--that is destroyed with an apish zest. even a picture in time or place, inconvenient for removal, that also will be defiled, slashed to rags, burnt. and indeed why not? for the best use of a work of art as understood among the prussian pundits is to make it the peg whereon to hang some ridiculous breach of statistics, some monstrous disquisition of bedevilled theory; and for such purposes a work no longer existing so as good as any--even better. and so the marvels of the centuries go up in dust and flames, and the memorials of memling and matsijs, van eyck, and rubens are treated as the masters' own bodies would have been treated, had fate delayed their time till the coming of the boche. arthur morrison. [illustration: the fate of flemish art at the hands of kultur] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the graves of all his hopes "look at the map," says the german chancellor. look at the map, and mark with a cross every german disappointment and you will have a history of the war more illuminating than many books on the subject. the marne, ypres, south africa, west africa, egypt, bagdad, india, tripoli, verdun. look at the map indeed. the map of the world that germany set out to conquer. consider the vapouring and vainglory that marked each of these "successes" in political or military trickery and the fact that of the military crosses each upbears above a mountain of losses the refrain of the old german song verdorben--gestorben--ruined--dead. it is a wonderful map to consider, this map of the world in 1916. a wonderful map to be studied by the mothers of the fatherland who have suckled their children to manure the crops of the future, to feed the crematoriums and blast furnaces of belgium, to fill the mad houses, blind asylums, and homes for incurables, when the frosts of russia and the guns of the allies have done with them. and every cross marks the grave of a hope. paris regrets eternels. that wonderful inscription was the first to be cut. galliene was the mason. verdun was the last and will not be the least. but, whatever may come to be written on stone, on the heart of the mourner when he comes to die only one inscription will be found: "calais." if he has a heart large enough to have even these six letters. h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: the graves of all his hopes] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"my sixth son is now lying here--where are yours?" there is a picture in brussels that the kaiser ought to study on one of his visits to the belgian capital. it is wertz's picture of napoleon in hades. wertz was a madman, he knew something of the horrors of war, but he knew, also, something of the grandeur and nobility of napoleon. napoleon is surrounded by women holding up the mutilated remains of sons, lovers, and fathers, and still he remains napoleon, the child of destiny, the inscrutable, the calm, and, if one may say so, the gentleman. women knew, at least, that their dead had fallen before the armies or at the will of a great man in those napoleonic days; there was something of fate in the business. but to-day the widow or the mourning mother, whilst knowing that her son or her husband has fallen in defending humanity from the beast can find no quarter in their hearts for the form or the shape of manhood that stands, in the words of swinburne: "curse consecrated, crowned with crime and flame!" no taunt could be too bitter for their lips and none more bitter than the words of raemaekers: "my sons are lying here--where are yours?" h. de vere stacpoole. [illustration: "my sixth son is now lying here--where are yours?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------bunkered the crown prince is in a very awkward predicament. he has driven his ball into a deep sand-pit from which a very clever professional golfer might perhaps extricate himself by a powerful stroke with a niblick. but young william is not a professional, and indeed knows nothing about the game. so he takes his driver and his other wooden clubs, and smashes them all, with much bad language, while he whacks at the ball, which only buries itself deeper in the sand. he is pondering what to do next. there is, however, only one thing to do. he must take up his ball and lose the hole. the real players on his side must be disgusted at being saddled with such a partner. but what is to be done when a fool is born a war-lord by right of primogeniture? in a few years, in the course of nature, this fortunate youth will be the supreme war-lord himself; it will be his business to "stand in shining armour" by some luckless ally who has been selected to pick a quarrel for germany's benefit, and to shake a "mailed fist" in the face of a trembling world. that will be a spectacle for gods and men. but perhaps something will happen instead. w. r. inge. [illustration: bunkered] ----------------------------------------------------------------------gott strafe verdun an impartial military verdict on the german strategy and tactics at verdun has not yet been delivered. after the failure of the allies to break through last year, the german higher command issued a paper, which has been printed in american newspapers, advocating "nibbling" tactics, instead of attempts to carry a strongly fortified line by a coup _de main_. the germans have buoyed up their hopes by assuring each other that their troops have been making a slow but methodical progress toward the "fortress," according to program. but even if we grant that the disproportion in casualties is probably not so great as some of our critics have supposed, it is difficult to believe that the enemy was prepared for such resistance as he has met with. to all appearance, the germans expected to break through in a few days, and hoped that this success would rehabilitate the credit of the paltry young prince whom we here see entangled in barbed wire, his uniform in rags, and despair depicted on his haggard face. another confessed failure would finish the career of the crown prince; and yet there are limits to the endurance of any troops, and these limits have now been reached. there is nothing left to young william but useless imprecations. he swaggered into this war, for which he is partly responsible, expecting to win the reputation of a general; he will sneak out of it with the reputation of a burglar. w. r. inge. [illustration: gott strafe verdun "if only i knew whether it is less dangerous to advance or to retire."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the last throw the first throw, of course, was that great rush which was stayed at the marne by the genius of joffre; then there was the throw of the great attack on russia, that which laid waste serbia, and that which would have thrust men down from the alps on to the italian plain. in each of these raemaekers' symbolism is applicable, for in each case death threw higher than either germany or austria could afford. but in none is the symbolism so terribly fitting as in this case of verdun, where the fighting men went forward in waves and died in waves--here death threw higher in every attack than germany could throw, and to such heights was the slaughter pushed that it was, in truth, the last throw of which these war-makers were capable. it is significant, now that germany can no longer afford such reckless sacrifices as were made before verdun, that the german press contains allusions to heavy sacrifices on the part of the allies, and tries to point to folly in allied policy. surely, in the matter of sacrifice of life, no nation is so well qualified to speak from experience as germany. there is clumsy anxiety expressed in every line of the figure that holds the dice box, and in every line of the figure in the background is nervous fear for the result of the throw--fear that is fully justified. but death, master of the game, waits complacently to mark the score, knowing that these two gamblers are the losers--and that the loser pays. e. charles vivian. [illustration: the last throw] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the zeppelin bag here the artist has depicted the kaiser in one of his favourite rôles, that of a sportsman. in pre-war times it was one of "the all highest's" chief ambitions to be taken for an english sportsman! we believe there were people in those now seemingly remote days who took him at his own valuation in this regard. our picture papers were full of photographs of him shooting at this or that nobleman's estate, lunching after the morning's battue, in the act of shooting, inspecting the day's "bag," etc.; and other pictures were reproduced from the german papers from time to time of a similar character showing him as a sportsman in his native land. there is still, thank god, something clean about british sport and sportsmen of which the kaiser never caught the inwardness and spirit. it has come out on the battlefields to-day as it has on those of past generations. it has taught the british soldier to fight clean, and even chivalrously though the foe may be a past master in "knavish tricks," and steeped in unspeakable methods of cruelty in warfare. how thin the veneer of a sportsmanship was upon the kaiser, which is after all but symbolic of the higher and sterner virtues, all the world has had a chance of judging. and in this remarkable and arresting drawing the genius of the artist has taken and used a sporting incident with telling and even horrifying effect. in the old days it was pheasants, partridges, grouse, hares, rabbits, and other feathered game, with the nobler stags and boars that formed "the butcher of potsdam's 'bag.'" to-day he has his battues by proxy on sea, land, and from the air. thousands of victims, as innocent as the feathered folk he slaughtered of yore; and women and little children form the chief items of the bag; and especially is this true of the "fruit of the zeppelin raids." he counts the bag and rewards the slayers of the innocent as he doubtless did the beaters, huntsmen, and keepers of the estates over which he formerly shot. it has been his ambition to make europe one vast kaiserdom estate. but the sands are running out, and each "bag," whether by zeppelin or submarine, serves but to stiffen the backs of the allies and horrify neutral nations. some day the accumulated horrors of the kaiser's ideas of sportsmanship will have taught the latter the lesson that kaiserdom with europe as a kaiser estate means the death of liberty, the extinction of the smaller nations, and the setting up of a despotism as cruel as that of attila and his huns--the self-accepted and preached examples of william ii of germany. clive holland. [illustration: the zeppelin bag] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"come in, michael, i have had a long sleep" yes--a long and rejuvenating sleep! the expression upon john's face indicates an amazing determination and alertness. it is told of certain remarkable men--de lesseps amongst the number--that they had the faculty of sleeping for several days and nights and then remaining wide awake and at full tension for an equally long period of time. we may confidently predict that john has this faculty. he is not likely to slumber again till his work is done, and done thoroughly. michael's expression, i regret to note, is not quite so pleasing as john's. it gives "furiously to think," as our gallant and beautiful france puts it, that when michael climbs through the window of the happy fatherland, he may, perchance, inspire terror in the heart of the hun, who doubtless expects that his enemies, if they do invade the sacred soil, will display those christian qualities of mercy and forbearance which have been so conspicuous, by their absence, in the treatment of unfortunate prisoners upon whom they inflicted the extreme rigour of "kultur." our cartoonist, it will be noticed, has placed sledge hammers in the hands of both john and michael, rather primitive weapons, but most admirably adapted for "crushing." and nothing short of crushing will satisfy the allies, despite the futile wiles and whines of messrs. trevelyan, ponsonby, morel, and macdonald. crushed they will and must be to fine powder. the hammer strokes are falling now with a persistence and force which, at long last, reverberates in the cafés and beer gardens of munich and berlin. the teuton tongue--a hideous concatenation of noise at its best--must be almost inarticulate to-day in its guttural chokings and splutterings. "frightfulness" is coming home to roost. with all our hearts we hold out the glad hand to michael. come in, and stay in--bless you! horace annesley vachell. [illustration: "come in, michael, i think i'm awake now."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------five on a bench all visions and poems of justice have been full of the refrain of _deposuit potentes de sede_; but the bracing reality of such a revolution is lost by certain effects of antiquity, by the mists which make the past somewhat monochrome, and by the exalted equality of death. to say that belisarius became a beggar means little to us when it seems only the difference between a rich and a tattered toga. we do not picture belisarius in a patched pair of trousers: but then we have no reason to be angry with belisarius. but whenever real tyranny and honest wrath are reborn among men, there will always be an instant necessity to represent the great reversal in the graphic colours of contemporary fact. raemaekers' cartoon, representing the tyrants of europe reduced to that very hopeless modern beggary to which they have driven many thousands of very much better men, is perhaps of all his pictures the most grim, or what would be called vindictive. i think that such revenge is in truth merely realization. the victims of the war have to sit on such real benches in such real rags. and being one of the fiercest, it is also one of the most delicate of the dutch artist's studies. nothing could be truer than the insolent and swollen decay of the jew ferdinant; or the more effeminate collapse of the kaiser, the very spike on whose helmet droops with sentiment. g. k. chesterton. [illustration: five on a bench in a year and a half.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------what about peace, lads? war--so certain of their own prophets have said--is a "national industry of germany." here we see a german _chevalier d' industrie_ attempting to escape with his swag. never in modern times has a nation gone to war with a more cynical and shameless determination to make the campaign pay for itself by the plunder of private property. quite recently an order was found on the body of a german, enjoining all officers to assist in the "patriotic duty" of "draining financially the occupied territories." we are dealing, not with an honourable and civilized nation, but with a band of murdering brigands. the keepers of the national conscience have devised a monstrous and barbarous code of ethics, in which "patriotism" is the sole duty, and the tribal god the only arbiter of right and wrong. as in roman law, the property of an enemy is for a german _res nullius_--it has no owner. and now the prospect of any further loot on a large scale seems remote. the speculation has turned out badly, and the robber would be glad to cut his losses. the guardians of the law are at his heels, and do not mean to let him escape. but will they be able to make him disgorge? that will not be easy; and what atonement can be made for the innocent blood which drops from those pitiful spoils? w. r. inge. [illustration: what about peace, lads?] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the liberators this is one of those cartoons in which the neutral in raemaekers speaks with peculiar force. such a picture by a britisher would reasonably be discounted as unduly prejudiced, for it is none too easy for us in our present stresses to see the other fellow's point of view--in this difficult business of the blockade for an instance. that friendly championing of the rights of neutrals suffering under the outrageous tyranny of the british navy is a thing to which only the detached humour of a neutral can do justice. he can testify to the way in which the giant strength of that navy, whether in peace or war, has been used in the main not in the giants' tyrannous way; he can make allowance for the exigencies which have caused occasional arbitrariness under the stress of war or even in some untactful moment of peace; he can contrast the two main opposing navy's notions of justice, courtesy, seamanship--which is sportsmanship. he can recall that no single right whether of combatant or neutral, of state or individual, guaranteed by international law, which the germans have found it convenient or "necessary" to violate has been left unviolated; that there is no single method or practice of war condemned by the common consent of civilization but has been employed by men who even have the candour to declare that they stand above laws and guarantees. and therefore he can make grim, effective fun of the sinister bandit with his foot planted on the shackled prisoner that lies between two murdered victims fatuously taking in vain the name of freedom. joseph thorp. [illustration: "freedom of the land is ours--why should we not have freedom of the sea?"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------tom thumb and the giant the reference in this cartoon is to an incident which, at the time of its occurrence, is said to have caused considerable indignation in germany. a zeppelin, having been on a raiding expedition to england, was hit on the return journey, and dropped into the north sea. the crew, clinging to the damaged airship, besought the captain of a british trawler to take them off, but the captain, seeing that the zeppelin crew far outnumbered his own, declined to trust them, and left them to their fate. whether the trawler's captain actually "put his thumb unto his nose and spread his fingers out" is a matter for conjecture, but under the circumstances it is scarcely likely. the whole point lies in the german view of the trawler's captain and his inhuman conduct. he knew, perfectly well, that if he rescued the crew of the zeppelin, the probable reward for himself and crew would be a voyage to the nearest german port and interment in a prison camp for the remainder of the war--and plenty of reliable evidence is forthcoming as to the treatment meted out to men in german prison camps. he knew, also, that these men who besought his aid were returning from one of the expeditions which have killed more women and children in england than able-bodied men, that they had been sharing in work which could not be described as even of indirect military value, but was more of the nature of sheer murder. and germany condemned his conduct by every adjective that implied brutality and barbarity. the unfortunate thing about the german viewpoint is that it takes into consideration only such points as favour germany, a fact of which this incident affords striking evidence. e. charles vivian. [illustration: tom thumb and the giant "come and save me. you know i am so fond of children."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------"we have finished off the russians" assuming that the statement with regard to finishing off the russians was actually written--and there is every reason to assume it--one may conjecture what memories it recalled. the great battles of the warsaw salient, the drive that lasted for many months through the flats of poland, the struggles of the vilna salient, and all the time the knowledge that mechanism, the guns in which germany put her trust, were shattering russian legions day after day. then the gradual settling of the eastern line, well into russia, with all the industrial districts of poland firmly gripped in german hands, and the certainty that though russia had not been utterly broken and forced to a peace, yet so much had been accomplished that there was no longer any eastern menace, but both germany and austria might go about their business of conquest in the west, having "finished off" in the east. but that strong figure with the pistol pointed at the writer, that implacable, threatening giant, is a true type of russia the unconquerable. it is a sign that the guns in which germany put her trust have failed her, that the line which was to hold firm during the business of conquest in the west has broken--more, it is a sign of the doom of the aggressor. the writing of that fat, complacent figure--sorry imitator of the world's great conquerors--is arrested, and in place of stolid self-conceit there shows fear. well-grounded fear. history can show no crimes to equal the rape of belgium and the desolation of poland at the hands of germany. the giant with the pistol stands not only as a returned warrior, but also as an avenger of unspeakable crimes. e. charles vivian. [illustration: we have finished off the russians "wait a moment."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------muddle through although this striking cartoon of raemaekers may, since the consummation of lord derby's scheme and the raising of the new armies, be said to have lost its sting it cannot be said no longer to have a lesson. at the time of its first publication the sight of england assailed by the central empires bent on her destruction for having thrown the weight of her trident and her sword into the scales on the side of justice and right against lawlessness and might, failed to evoke in many of her sons the spirit of patriotism which has since manifested itself in many glorious and immortal deeds. it was difficult for us to realize that we were at war. and at war not merely to protect the weak and uphold ideals of national righteousness, but for national existence itself. the doctrine of "muddle through" was not confined to the war office and other government departments, but seemed to permeate the whole nation to a lamentable extent. in the cartoon we have three typical men with that fatal "business (or pleasure) as usual" expression on their faces. that germany should seek to wrest the trident and sovereignty of the seas from the hand of britain, or should have devastated belgium and the north eastern department of france was obviously no personal concern of theirs. let the other chaps fight if they would. happily for england and for her gallant allies the point of the cartoon has been blunted, if not entirely destroyed, by subsequent events. but the lesson? it is not far to seek. is it not that had "business as usual" not been so gladly adopted as the national creed in the early days of war, we might have been happy in the blessings of peace by now, or at least have had peace much nearer. we do not envy the men who might have gone but who stayed at home in those early days, when their earlier presence on the field of battle might have been the means not only of saving many thousands of valuable lives, but of shortening the terrible carnage. it would have been a thousand times better had the mind which conceived the phrase "business as usual" been acute enough to foresee the possible and disastrous misapplications of the phrase. rather would it have been better had the idea crystallized in "do it now." clive holland. [illustration: muddle through] ----------------------------------------------------------------------my enemy is my best friend these words of emerson's express exactly the thought of this cartoon. the netherlands is a country that has been slowly won from the ocean; the cruel sea has always been its enemy, at first completely triumphant, then gradually resisted and driven forth by the enterprise and toil of men; but it is always an enemy to be dreaded. its inroads have to be guarded against by great dykes and by the never-ceasing care and industry of the nation. now and again the floods come, and people barely escape in boats from the waters. yet time and again the enemy has been the best friend of the netherlands. this enemy has saved them from the domination of spain, and now, as the refugees on the floods of last winter are escaping from the jaws of death they feel that the water which is now an enemy (_vijand_), may to-morrow be a friend (_vriend_); for an invasion by the germans, that ever-dreaded danger to all patriotic dutchmen, can be guarded against only by the friendly help of the ocean which can be invoked in case of need to save its own people. it was only in the last resort that william the silent consented to let in the sea. he resisted the spaniards as long as he could, and only when all possible chance of further resistance was at an end did he have recourse to the sea as the last friend. he saved the country by allowing the german ocean to destroy it. in this cartoon the people in the boats regard the sea as their enemy; but an invasion by german armies could not be resisted except with the help of the friendly sea, whose voice is the voice of freedom. william mitchell ramsay. [illustration: the floods in holland--now a fiend, to-morrow a friend.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------how i deal with the small fry perhaps only those who have the opportunity of reading the papers published in neutral countries, and have made a study of the mendacious "news for neutrals" issued by the notorious woolf agency and german wireless bureau, are able to grasp the powerful inner motive which actuates raemaekers in the persistence with which he seeks to drive home the tragic stories of belgium and luxemburg. at this time of day it might seem superfluous to issue a cartoon of this kind. but is it? with neutral opinion apparently by no means convinced as yet of the sinister designs of prussianism upon the liberties of europe and especially of smaller nations a drawing of such poignancy and force cannot fail to arrest the attention and bring home the lesson of that creed which has for its gospel such phrases as "necessity knows no law" and "force shall rule." it is inconceivable to the thinking mind that there can be a man or woman who, with the story of the violation of belgium and luxemburg before them, can possibly hesitate to brand the german nation with the mark of cain, and tremble at the mere possibility that might should triumph over right. our wonderment is all the greater when we remember how the kaiser and his murderous hordes have made no secret of their methods. they may in the end seek to deny them, to repudiate the deeds of blood and of unholy sacrilege and violence which in the early days of war were avowed concomitants of their policy, but such disavowal is not yet. beneath the kaiser's heel in bloody reality lie at the present time belgium and unprotected luxemburg every whit as much as is shown by the powerful pencil of the artist. the reign of lust, cruelty, and destruction is not yet done, though the signs and portents of the end are not now a-wanting. the blood of men, women, and little children shall not cease to cry aloud for vengeance until the prussian eagle is humbled in the dust, and its power for evil is utterly destroyed. this is a good cartoon to bear in mind and look upon should "war weariness" ever overtake one. it will be a good one to have upon one's wall when peace talk is head in the land. thomas moore may be said to have composed an epitaph for prussianism three-quarters of a century ago when he wrote the lines: "accursed is the march of that glory which treads o'er the hearts of the free." a great statesman has declared "the allies will not sheathe the sword until justice is vindicated." let us add "and until reparation is exacted to the uttermost farthing from these responsible for this bloody conflict and its diabolical crimes, whether the perpetrators be high or low." clive holland. [illustration: how i deal with the small fry.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the two eagles a double-edged satire on both political birds. neither is a true eagle. they have talons but nothing of the noble air proper to the king of birds. the german bird is not an eagle but a vulture; and he is in a sorry plight, with torn and ruffled feathers, dishevelled, dripping blood. he is disappointed, angry, soured, and unhappy. yet he is straightforward about it. he makes no attempt to disguise his feelings, but glares at the other with the indignation of one who has been deceived written on his face and vibrating in his voice. and his reproach gets home. the american bird, who is bigger and stands on a bigger rock, is sleek enough except about the head which is a bit ruffled. but he is more of a raven than an eagle in his sable plumes of professional cut, and he is obviously not at ease. he does not look the other in the face. he stares straight in front of him at nothing with a forced, hard and fixed smile, obviously assumed because he has no reply to make. during the war many indiscreet phrases have dropped from the lips of prominent persons who must bitterly regret them and wish them buried deep in oblivion. but they stand on record, and history will not let them die. "too proud to fight" is the most unfortunate of all, and when others are forgotten it will remain, because it has a general application. mr. raemaekers exposes its foolishness here with a single masterly touch and he puts the exposure in the right mouth. the cartoon is an illuminating epitome of the interminable exchange of notes between the two powers on submarine warfare. a. shadwell. [illustration: "i thought you said you were too proud to fight."] ----------------------------------------------------------------------london--inside the savoy at first glance this cartoon would seem to imply that the people inside the savoy had little interest in the war, for the figures in evening dress are well in the foreground; a count of heads, however, will show six, and possibly seven men in uniform and only four in civilian attire, and of the soldiers not one is dancing--they are lookers-on at these strange beings who pursue the ordinary ways of life. of such beings, not many are left--certainly not this proportion of four to six, or four to seven. compulsion has thinned the ranks of the shirkers down to an irreducible minimum, and a visit to the savoy at any time in the last six months of 1916 would show khaki entirely preponderant, just as it is in the streets. these correctly dressed and monocled young men have been put into the national machine, and moulded into fighting material--their graves are thick in flanders and along the heights north of the somme, and they have proved themselves equal and superior to what had long been regarded as the finest fighting forces of europe. it is in reality no far cry from the somme fighting area to the light and the music of the savoy, and a man may dance one night and die under a german bullet the next--many have already done so. here the artist shows the lighter side of british life to-day, but one has only to turn to the companion cartoon to this, "outside the savoy," to see that he realizes london as thoroughly in earnest about the war. e. charles vivian. [illustration: london--inside the savoy] ----------------------------------------------------------------------london--outside the savoy the newsboy, under military age; one man, well over military age; three women--and all the rest in uniform--even the top of the bus that shows in the distance is filled with soldiers. thus raemaekers sees the strand, one of the principal thoroughfares of the heart of the british empire. for the sake of contrast with the companion cartoon, "inside the savoy," there is a slight exaggeration in this view of london street life in war-time--the proportion of civilians to soldiers is necessarily greater than this, or the national life could not go on. a host of industries are necessary to the prosecution of the war, and it falls to some men to stay behind--many of them unwillingly. there was a time, in the early days, when britain suffered from an under-estimate of the magnitude of this task of war--a time which the cartoon "inside the savoy" typifies in its presentment of careless enjoyment. but that attitude was soon dispelled, and it is significant of the spirit of the nation that only when nine-tenths of the necessary army had been raised by voluntary--indeed, this is a certainty, for not until long after the cartoon was published did any conscripts appear in the streets. though, in the proportion of soldiers to civilians, the cartoon may exaggerate, in its presentment of the spirit of the nation, and of the determination of the nation with regard to the war, it is true to life. e. charles vivian. [illustration: london--outside the savoy] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the invocation this drawing touches the highest level of the draughtsman's art and demonstrates the unique power of the pencil in a master hand. so simple, so true, so complete, so direct and so eloquent is the message that words can add nothing to it. they can only pay a tribute of appreciation. everybody can read the meaning at a glance; none can read it wholly unmoved. for here is pure humanity, which none can escape, the primal instinct without which man that is born of woman would not be. before this weak, bowed, and homely figure knowledge is silent, pride and passion are rebuked. strength is shamed. motherhood and mother-love transcend them all. there is here nothing of anger, no thought of hostility or revenge, no trace of evil passion. only a mother yearning after her son and pleading to another mother, the divine type of motherhood, the mother of god. and what she asks is so little, only to see him again. she has given him, as the mother to whom she prays gave her son, and she does not demand him back. she reproaches no one, accuses no one, makes no complaint and no claim for herself, but meekly pleads that she may be allowed to see him again to still the longing in her breast. she is a woman of the people, a simple peasant, but she personifies all mothers in every war, as she bows her silvered head in humble prayer at the way-side shrine. a. shadwell. [illustration: mon fils--belgium, 1914 "let me see him again, holy virgin!"] ----------------------------------------------------------------------the country life press garden city, n. y. [illustration: see p. 173 "and the only kick they've got, mawruss," abe said, "is that president wilson won't expose his hand, which, if he did, he might just so well throw the game to germany and be done with it."] worrying won't win by montague glass illustrated harper & brothers publishers new york and london worrying won't win copyright, 1918, by harper & brothers printed in the united states of america published may, 1918 contents chap. page i. potash and perlmutter discuss the czar business 1 ii. potash and perlmutter on soap-boxers and peace fellers 10 iii. potash and perlmutter on financing the war 20 iv. potash and perlmutter on bernstorff's expense account 30 v. potash and perlmutter discuss on the front page and off 40 vi. potash and perlmutter on hooverizing the overhead 49 vii. potash and perlmutter on foreign affairs 58 viii. potash and perlmutter on lordnorthcliffing versus colonelhousing 68 ix. potash and perlmutter on national music and national currency 77 x. potash and perlmutter on revolutionizing the revolution business 86 xi. potash and perlmutter discuss the sugar question 96 xii. potash and perlmutter discuss how to put the spurt in the expert 106 xiii. potash and perlmutter on being an optician and looking on the bright side 115 xiv. the liquor question--shall it be dry or extra dry? 124 xv. potash and perlmutter on peace with victory and without brokers, either 133 xvi. potash and perlmutter on keeping it dark 142 xvii. potash and perlmutter on the peace program, including the added extra feature and the supper turn 151 xviii. potash and perlmutter on the new national holidays 160 xix. mr. wilson: that's all 169 xx. potash and perlmutter discuss the grand-opera business 177 xxi. potash and perlmutter discuss the magazine in war-times 186 xxii. potash and perlmutter on saving daylight, coal, and breath 195 xxiii. potash and perlmutter discuss why is a play-goer? 204 xxiv. potash and perlmutter discuss society--new york, human, and american 213 xxv. potash and perlmutter discuss this here income tax 222 illustrations "and the only kick they've got, mawruss," abe said, "is that president wilson won't expose his hand, which, if he did, he might just so well throw the game to germany and be done with it." _frontispiece_ "i bet yer over half a czar's morning mail already is circulars from casket concerns alone, abe." _facing p._ 2 "'so,' mrs. hoover says, 'you had one of them sixty-cent table-d'hôte lunches to-day again, and now of course you 'ain't got no appetite. how many times did i tell you you shouldn't eat that poison?'" " 50 "perhaps it's because this here lord george and king george is related maybe," morris suggested. "i don't think so," abe replied. "the name is only a quincidence." " 60 "'well, if we are such big experts on machine-guns, we should ought to know a whole lot more about machine-guns as colonel lewis, and what does that _schlemiel_ know about machine-guns, _anyway_?'" " 108 "and five minutes after the jury had returned a verdict would be on his way up to the matteawan asylum for the criminal insane." " 152 "take, for instance, sopranos, and they come in two classes. there is the soprano which hollers murder police and they call her a dramatic soprano. and then again there is the soprano which gargles. that is a coloratura soprano." " 180 "for instance, who is it that says whole-wheat bread irritates the lining from the elementry canal? the ignorant man? _oser!_" " 202 worrying won't win worrying won't win i potash and perlmutter discuss the czar business like the human-hair business and the green-goods business it is not what it used to be. "yes, abe," morris perlmutter said to his partner, abe potash, as they sat in their office one morning in september, "the english language is practically a brand-new article since the time when i used to went to night school. in them days when a feller says he is feeling like a king, it meant that he was feeling like a king, _aber_ to-day yet, if a feller says he feels like a king it means that he's got stomach and domestic trouble and that he don't know where the money is coming from to pay his next week's laundry bill. czars is the same way, too. former times when you called a feller a regular czar you meant he was a regular czar, _aber_ nowadays if you say somebody is a regular czar it means that the poor feller couldn't call his soul his own and that he must got to do what everybody from the shipping-clerk up tells him to do with no back talk." "well, it only goes to show, mawruss," abe commented. "there was a czar, y'understand, which for years was not only making out pretty good as a czar, y'understand, but had really as you might say been doing something phenomenal yet. in fact, mawruss, if three years ago r.g. dun or bradstreet would give it a rating to czars and people in similar lines, y'understand, compared with the czar already, an old-established house like hapsburg's in vienna would be rated n. to q., credit four, see foot-note. and to-day, mawruss, where _is_ he?" "say," morris protested, "any one could have reverses, abe, because it don't make no difference if it would be a czar _oder_ a pants manufacturer, and they both had ratings like john b. rockafellar even, along comes two or three bad seasons like the czar had it, y'understand, and the most you could hope for would be thirty cents on the dollar--ten cents cash and the balance in notes at three, six, and nine months, indorsed by a grand duke who has got everything he owns in his wife's name and 'ain't spent an evening at home with her since way before the crimean war already." "what happened to the czar, mawruss," abe said, "bad seasons didn't done it. not reckoning quick assets, like crowns actually in stock, fixtures, etc., the feller must of owned a couple million _versts_ high-grade real property, to say nothing of his life insurance, mawruss." [illustration: "i bet yer over half a czar's morning mail already is circulars from casket concerns alone, abe."] "czars and life insurance ain't in the same dictionary at all, abe," morris interrupted. "in the insurance business, abe, czars comes under the same head as aviators with heart trouble, y'understand. i bet yer over half a czar's morning mail already is circulars from casket concerns alone, abe, so that only goes to show how much you know from czars." "well, i know this much, anyhow," abe continued. "what put the czar out of business, didn't happen this season or last season neither, mawruss. it dates back already twenty years ago, which you can take it from me, mawruss, it don't make no difference what line a feller would be in--czars wholesale, czars retail, or czars' supplies and sundries, including bombproof underwear and the little wonder poison detector, y'understand, the moment such a feller marries into the family of his nearest competitor, mawruss, he might just as well go down to a lawyer's office and hand him the names he wants inserted in schedule a three of his petition in bankruptcy." "did the czar marry into such a family?" morris asked. "a question!" abe exclaimed. "didn't you know that the czar's wife is the kaiser's mother's sister's daughter?" "say!" morris retorted. "i didn't even know that the kaiser _had_ a mother. from the heart that feller's got it, you might suppose he was raised in an incubator and that the only parents he ever knew was a couple of packages absorbent cotton and an alcohol-lamp." "well, that's what i am telling you, mawruss," abe said. "with all the millionaires in russland which would be tickled to pieces to get a czar for a son-in-law, y'understand, the feller goes to work and ties up to a family with somebody like the kaiser in it, and you know as well as i do, mawruss, one crook in your wife's family can stick you worser than all your poor relations put together." "even when your wife's relations are honest, what _is_ it?" morris asked. "_gewiss!_" abe agreed. "and can you imagine when such a crook _in_-law is also your biggest competitor? i bet yer, mawruss, the poor _nebich_ wasn't home from his honeymoon yet before the kaiser starts in cutting prices on him." "cutting prices was the least," morris said. "take bulgaria, for instance, and up to a few years ago that was one of the czar's best selling territories. in fact, abe, whenever the czar stops off at sophia, him and the king of bulgaria takes coffee together, such good friends they was." "who is sophia?" abe asked. "_also_ a relative of the kaiser?" "sophia is the name of one big town in bulgaria," morris replied. "that's a name for a big town--sophia," abe remarked. "why don't they call it lillian russell and be done with it?" "they could call it williamsburg for all the business the czar done there after the kaiser got in his fine work," morris said. "and after all, what good did it done him?" abe added. "because you know as well as i do, mawruss, the kaiser ain't two jumps ahead of the sheriff himself. in fact, mawruss, the king business is to-day like the human-hair business and the green-goods business. it's practically a thing of the past." "did i say it wasn't?" morris asked. "being a king ain't a business no more, mawruss. it's just a job," abe continued, "and it's a metter of a few months now when the only kings left will be, so to speak, journeymen kings like the king of england and the king of belgium and not boss kings like the king of austria and the kaiser. why, right now, that germany is his store, and that the poor germans _nebich_ is just salespeople; and he figures that if he wants to close out his stock and fixtures at a sacrifice and at the same time work his salespeople to death, what is that _their_ business, y'understand." "well, that's the way the czar figured," morris commented. "for, abe, the kaiser has got an idee years already he was running russland on the open-shop principle, and before he woke up to the fact that the people he had been treating right straight along as non-union labor was really the majority stockholders, y'understand, they had changed the combination of the safe on him and notified the bank that on and after said date all checks would be signed by jacob m. kerensky as receiver." "you would think a feller like the czar would learn something by what happened to this here mellen of the new haven railroad," abe said. "_yow_ learn!" morris replied. "is the kaiser learning something from what they done to the czar?" "that's a different matter entirely," abe retorted. "with a relation by marriage, you naturally figure if he makes a big success that he fell in soft and that a lucky stiff like him if he gets shot with a gun, y'understand, the bullet is from gold and it hits him in the pocket yet; whereas, if he goes broke and 'ain't got a cent left in the world, y'understand, it's a case of what could you expect from a _schlemiel_ like that. so instead of learning anything from what happens to the czar, i bet yer the kaiser feels awful sore at him yet. why, i don't suppose a day passes without the kaiser's wife comes to him and says, 'listen, popper, esther (or whatever the czar's wife's name is) called me up again this morning; she says nicholas 'ain't got no work nor nothing and she was crying something terrible.' "'well, if she's going to keep on crying till i find that loafer a job,' the kaiser says, 'she's got a long wet spell ahead of her.' "'she don't want you to find him no job,' the kaiser's wife tells him. 'all she asks is you should send 'em transportation.' "'transportation _nothing_!' the kaiser says. 'i already sent transportation to the king of greece, ambassador bernstorff, doctor dernburg, this here boy ed _und gott weisst wer nach_. what am i? the pennsylvania railroad or something?' "'well, what is he going to do 'way out there in tobolsk?' she says. "'if he would only of acted reasonable and killed off a couple million of them suckers, the way any other king would do, he never would of had to go to tobolsk at all,' the kaiser says. "'_aber_ what shall i say to her if she rings up again?' she asks. "'say what you please,' the kaiser answers her, 'but tell central i wouldn't pay no reverse charges under no circumstances whatsoever from nowheres.'" "and who told _you_ all this, abe?" morris asked. "nobody," abe replied. "i figured it out for myself." "well, you figured wrong, then," morris said. "the kaiser don't act that way. he ain't human enough, and, furthermore, abe, the kaiser don't talk over the telephone, neither, because if he did, y'understand, it's a cinch that sooner or later the court physician would be giving out the cause of death as shock from being connected up with the electric-light plant by party or parties unknown and long live kaiser schmooel the second--or whatever the crown prince's rotten name is." "any one who done such a thing in the hopes of making a change for the better, mawruss," abe commented, "would certainly be jumping from the frying-pan into the soup, because if the germans got rid of the kaiser in favor of the crown prince it would be a case of discarding a king and drawing a deuce." "sure i know," morris said, "but what the germans need is a new deal all around. as the game stands now in germany, abe, only a limited few sits in, while the rest of the country hustles the refreshments and pays for the lights and the cigars, and they're such a poor-spirited bunch, y'understand, that they 'ain't got nerve enough to suggest a kitty, even." "well, it's too late for them to start a kitty now, mawruss," abe said. "which you could take it from me, mawruss, the house is going to be pulled 'most any day. several million husky cops is going up the front stoop right this minute, mawruss, and while they may have a little trouble with them--now--ice-box style of doors, it's only a question of time when they would back up the patrol-wagon, y'understand, because if the germans wouldn't close up the game of their own accord, mawruss, the allies must got to do it _for_ them." "but the germans don't want us to help 'em," morris said. "they're perfectly satisfied as they are." "i know it," abe said. "they're a nation of shipping-clerks, mawruss. they're in a rut, y'understand. they've all got rotten jobs and they're scared to death that they're going to lose them. also the boss works them like dawgs and makes their lives miserable, y'understand, and yet they're trembling in their pants for fear he is going to bust up on them." "then i guess it's up to us allies to show them poor _chamorrim_ how they could be bosses for themselves," morris suggested. "sure it is," abe concluded, "and next year in tobolsk when the kaiser joins his relations by marriage, mawruss, he's going to pick up the _tobolsker freie presse_ some morning and see where there has been incorporated at last the _deutsche allgemeine wohlfahrtfabrik_, with a capital of a hundred billion marks, to take over the business of the k.k. manufacturing company, and he's going to say the same as everybody else: 'well, what do you know about them heinies? i never thought they had it in them.'" ii potash and perlmutter on soap-boxers and peace fellers there is some of them peace fellers which ain't so much scared as they are contrary. "people 'ain't begun to realize yet what this war really and truly means, mawruss," abe potash said as he finished reading an interview with ex-ambassador gerard, in which the ex-ambassador said that people had not yet begun to realize what the war really meant. "maybe they don't," morris perlmutter agreed, "but for every feller which 'ain't begun to realize what this war really and truly means, abe, there is a hundred other fellers which 'ain't begun to realize what a number of people there is which goes round saying that people 'ain't begun to realize what this war really and truly means, y'understand. also, abe, the same people is going round begging people which is just as patriotic as they are that they should brace up and be patriotic, y'understand, and they are pulling pledges to hold up the hands of the president on other people who has got similar pledges in their breast pockets and pretty near beats 'em to it, understand me, and that's the way it goes." "well, if one time out of a hundred they strike somebody who really and truly don't realize what the war means, like you, mawruss," abe began, "why, then, their time ain't entirely wasted, neither." "i realize just so much as you do what this war means, abe," morris retorted. "maybe you do," abe admitted, "but you don't talk like you did, mawruss, otherwise you would know that if out of a hundred americans only ninety-nine of 'em pledges themselves to hold up the hands of the president, y'understand, and the balance of one claims that we are in this war just to save our investments in franco-american bonds and that mr. wilson is every bit as bad as the kaiser except that he's clean-shaved, y'understand, then them ninety-nine fellers with the pledges in their breast pockets should ought to convert the balance of one. because, mawruss, a nation which is ninety-nine per cent. patriotic is like a fish which is ninety-nine per cent. fresh--all you can notice is the one per cent. which smells bad." "i am just so much in favor of the country being one hundred per cent. american as you are, abe," morris said, "but what i claim is that we should go about it _right_." "if you mean we shouldn't argue with them one-per-centers, but send them right back to that part of the old country which they come from originally, mawruss," abe continued, "why, i am agreeable that they should be shipped right away, f.o.b., n.y., all deliveries subject to delay and liability being limited to fifty dollars personal baggage in case they should, please gawd, fail to arrive in europe." "sure i know," morris agreed. "but pretty near all them one-per-centers was born and raised in the united states or in saint louis, wisconsin, and cincinnati. you take this here _burgermeister_ of chicago, for instance, and the chances is that all he knows about the old country is what he learned on a couple of visits to milwaukee, y'understand. so how could you export a feller like that?" "i don't want to export him, mawruss. all i would like to see is that they should put an embargo on him," abe said, "and on his friends, them peace fellers, too." "well, i'll tell you," morris commented, "about them peace fellers, you couldn't blame 'em exactly, because you know how it is with some people: they 'ain't got no control over their feelings, and if they're scared to death, y'understand, they couldn't help showing it, which my poor grandmother, _olav hasholom_, wouldn't allow me to keep so much as a pea-shooter in the house, on account, she says, if the good lord wills it, even a broomstick could give fire." "and yet, mawruss, if burglars would of broke into her home, i bet you she would grabbed the nearest flat-iron and went for 'em with it," abe said, "so don't insult your grandmother _selig_ by comparing her with them peace fellers which they _oser_ care how many burglars is johnnying the front door just so long as they could hide under the bed." "at the same time, abe, there is some of them peace fellers which ain't so much scared as they are contrary, y'understand," morris said. "take this here lafollette, abe, and that feller's motto is, 'my country--i think she's always wrong--but right or wrong--that's my opinion and i stick to it.' all a united states senator has got to do is to look like he is preparing to say something, y'understand, and before he can get out so much as 'brother president and fellow-members of this organization,' lafollette jumps up and says, 'i'm sorry, but i disagree with you.'" "that must make him pretty popular in the senate," abe remarked. "popular's no name for it," morris continued. "there ain't a united states senator which wouldn't stand willing to dig down and pay for a set of engrossed resolutions out of his own pocket, just so long as senator lafollette would resign or something." "but senator lafollette ain't one of them peace fellers, mawruss," abe said. "sure, i know," morris replied. "all he wants is to run the war according to cushing's _manual_. if he had his way we wouldn't be able to give an order for so much as one-twelfth dozen guns, y'understand, without it come up in the form of a motion that it is regularly moved and seconded that the secretary of war be and he is hereby authorized to order the same and all those in favor will signify the same by saying aye, y'understand, and even then, abe, him and senator vardaman would call for a show of hands under section twelve, subsection d, of the by-laws." "then i suppose if a few thousand american soldiers gets killed on account they 'ain't got the right kind of guns, mawruss, we could lay it to section twelve, subsection d, of the by-laws," abe suggested. "and you could give some of them senators credit for an assist, abe, because you take a senator like that, abe, and when he holds up the ammunition supply with a two-hour speech, y'understand, he _oser_ worries his head how many american soldiers is going to be killed by the germans in france six months later, just so long as his own name is spelled right by the newspapers in new york city next morning." "it would help a whole lot, mawruss," abe said, "if senators and congressmen was numbered the same like automobiles, y'understand, because who is going to waste his breath arguing that the senate should pass a law which it's a pipe the senate ain't going to pass, on account that nobody is in favor of it except himself and a couple of other senators temporarily absent on the road, making fargo, minneapolis, chicago, and points east as traveling peace conventioners, y'understand, when he knows that next morning the only notice the new york newspapers will take of his _geschrei_ will be, among those who spoke in the senate yesterday was: d 105-666 wis 1917 2016 pa. 1917 commercial 01-232 n.y. 1917 "well, there's plenty of people which thinks when governor lauben wouldn't let them peace fellers run off their convention, y'understand, that it was unconstitutional," morris said. "sure, i know," abe said. "they're the same people which thinks that anything what helps us and hinders germany is unconstitutional, including the constitution. you take them socialist orators, which the only use they've got for soap is the boxes the soap comes in, y'understand, and to hear them talk you would think that the kaiser sunk the _lusitania_ pursuant to article sixty-one, section two, of the constitution of the united states, mawruss, whereas when president wilson sends a message to congress asking them when they are going to get busy on the war taxes and what do they think this is, anyway--a _kaffeklatsch_, y'understand--it is all kinds of violations of articles sixteen, thirty-two, o.k. and c.o.d. of the constitution and that the american people is a lot of weak-livered curs to stand for it, outside of being weak-livered curs, anyway." "you mean to say we allow these here fellers to get up on soap-boxes and say such things like that?" morris exclaimed. "we've _got_ to allow them," abe replied. "the constitution protects them." "what do you mean--the constitution protects them?" morris said. "here a couple of weeks ago a judge in north carolina gives out a decision that the constitution don't protect little children eleven years old from being made to work in factories, y'understand, and now you are trying to tell me that the same constitution does protect these here loafers! what kind of a constitution have we got, anyway?" "i don't know, mawruss, but there's this much about it, anyhow--a lawyer could get more money out of just one board of directors which wants to go ahead and put through the deal if under the constitution of the united states nobody could do 'em nothing, y'understand, than he could out of all the children which gets injured working in all the cotton-mills south of mason and hamlin's line, understand me. so you see, mawruss, the constitution not only protects these here soap-box orators, but it also gives 'em something to talk about because when they want to knock the united states and boost germany, all they need to say is that you've got to hand it to the germans; if they kill little children, they're, anyhow, foreign children and not german children." "i suppose a lot of them soap-box orators gets paid by the german government for boosting the germans the way you just done it, abe," morris commented, "which i see that this here ridder of the _new yorker staats-zeitung_ gives it out that any one what accuses him that he is getting paid by the german government for boosting the kaiser in his paper would got to stand a suit for liable, because he is too patriotic an american sitson to print articles boosting the kaiser except as a matter of friendship and free of charge--outside of what he can make by syndicating them to other german newspapers." "but do them other german newspapers get paid by the german government for reprinting mr. ridder's articles?" abe asked. "_that_ mr. ridder don't say," morris replied. "well," abe continued, "_somebody_ should ought to appreciate the way them german newspapers love the kaiser, even if it's only a united states district attorney, mawruss, because you take it if the shoe pinched on the other foot, and a feller by the name jefferson w. rider was running an american newspaper in berlin, germany, by the name, we would say, for example, the _berlin_, _germany_, _star-gazette_, which is heart and soul for germany and at the same time prints articles by american military experts showing how germany couldn't win the war, not in a million years, and the sooner the german soldiers realize it the quicker they wouldn't get killed for such a hopeless _geschaft_, y'understand. also, nobody has a greater admiration for the kaiser than the _berlin_, _germany_, _star-gazette_, understand me, but that if the kaiser thinks president wilson is a tyrant, y'understand, then all the _star-gazette_ has got to say is, some day when the kaiser is fixing the ends of his mustache in front of the glass mit candlegrease or whatever such _chamorrim_ uses on their mustaches to make themselves look like kaisers, y'understand, that the kaiser should take another look in the mirror and he would see there such a cutthroat tyrant which president wilson never dreamed of being in princeton university to the shipping-clerk, even. also this here _berlin_, _germany_, _star-gazette_ says that germany is the land of bluff and that--" "one moment," morris perlmutter interrupted. "what are you trying to tell me--that such a newspaper would be allowed to exist in berlin, germany?" "i am only giving you a hypo-critical case, mawruss," abe continued, "where i am trying to explain to you that if this was germany it wouldn't be necessary for mr. ridder to sue anybody for liable. all he would have to do when they ask him if he's got anything to say why sentence should not be passed, y'understand, is to tell the judge what was his trade before he became an editor, understand me, and they would put him to work at it for the remainder of the war." "he wouldn't get off so easy as that, even," morris commented. "why, what do you suppose they would do to the editor of this here, for example, _star-gazette_ if he was to just so much as hint that the crown prince couldn't be such a terrible good judge of french château furniture, y'understand, on account he had slipped over on the berlin antique dealers a lot of reproductions which they had every right to believe was genwine old stuff, as it had been rescued from the flames, packed, and shipped under the crown prince's personal supervision? i bet you, abe, if the paper was on the streets at three-thirty and the sun rose at three-thirty-five, y'understand, the authorities wouldn't wait that long. they'd shoot him at three-thirty-two." "i know it," abe agreed. "you see, mawruss, an editor, a soap-boxer, a cotton-mill owner, or a stock-waterer might get away with it in this country under the constitution, but over on the other side they wouldn't know what he was talking about at all, because in germany, mawruss, a constitution means only one thing. it's something that can be ruined by drinking too much beer, and you don't have to hire no lawyer for _that_." iii potash and perlmutter on financing the war on everything which a feller buys, from pinochle decks to headache medicine, he will have to put a stamp. "i see where this here chump clark says that incomes from over ten thousand dollars should ought to be confiscated," abe potash observed to his partner, morris perlmutter, one morning in september. "sure, i know," morris replied, "and if this here chump clark has a good year next year and cleans up for a net profit of ten thousand two hundred and twenty-six dollars and thirty-five cents, then he'll claim that all incomes over ten thousand two hundred and twenty-six dollars and thirty-five cents should ought to be confiscated, abe, and that's the way it goes. i am the same way, abe. any one what makes more money as i do, abe, i 'ain't got no sympathy for at all." "i bet yer vincent astor thinks that john b. rockafellar should ought to be satisfied mit the reasonable income which a feller could make it by working hard at the real-estate business the way vincent astor does," abe commented. "john b. rockafellar _oser_ worries his head over the ravings of a protelariat," morris said. "but, anyhow, abe, there's a whole lot to what this here chump clark says at that. if we compel men to give up their lives for their country, why shouldn't we compel them fellers which has got incomes of over ten thousand dollars to give up their property for their country also?" "well, i'll tell you, mawruss," abe replied. "this here chump clark is a congressman, and the way i feel about it is, that when a congressman wants to say something in congress, y'understand, he should ought to be compelled to first submit it in writing to a certified public accountant or, anyhow, a bookkeeper, y'understand, because the average congressman 'ain't got no head for figures. take mr. clark, for example, and when he reckons that everybody which gets drafted is going to give up his life for his country, y'understand, you don't got to be the head actuary of the equitable exactly in order to figure it out that he's made a tremendous overestimate. so when the same feller talks about confiscating incomes over ten thousand, it ain't necessary to ask how he come to fix on ten thousand instead of five thousand or fifteen thousand, because whether he tossed for it or dealt himself three cold hands, and the hand representing ten thousand dollars won out with treys full of deuces, y'understand, the information ain't going to help us finance the war to any extent." "why not?" morris asked. "because you take yourself, for instance, and we would say for the sake of argument that in nineteen seventeen you turned over a new leaf and worked so hard that you made fifteen thousand five hundred dollars." "listen, abe," morris interrupted, "if there is a new leaf coming to any one around here, abe, i wouldn't mention no names for the sake of an argument or otherwise." "all right," abe said, "then we'll say you didn't work no harder, but just the same, mawruss, if you was to make fifteen thousand five hundred dollars in nineteen seventeen, and this here chump clark gets the government to confiscate fifty-five hundred dollars on you, how much would they confiscate on you in nineteen eighteen?" morris shrugged his shoulders. "what is the use of talking pipe dreams?" he said. "i ain't talking pipe dreams," abe retorted. "this is something which not only chump clark suggested it, but senator lafollette also as a good scheme for financing the war." "evidently they don't expect the war to last long," morris commented, "which the most the government could hope to collect is the excess income for nineteen seventeen, because if the government confiscates five thousand five hundred dollars on me in nineteen seventeen, am i going to go around in the summer of nineteen eighteen beefing about business being rotten because here it is the first of july, nineteen eighteen, and so far all the government could confiscate on me is two thousand two hundred and sixty-seven dollars and thirty-eight cents, whereas on july first, nineteen seventeen, i had already got confiscated on me two thousand four hundred and thirty-one dollars and fifty cents? _oser a stück!_ if i have made ten thousand dollars as early as april first, nineteen eighteen, and i know that all further profits for nineteen eighteen is going to be confiscated by the government, y'understand, right then and there i am going to shut up shop and paste a notice on the door: gone to lunch will return january 2, 1919 and anybody else would do the same, abe, i don't care if he would be as patriotic as senator lafollette himself even." "but that ain't the only idees for financing the war which congress has got it, mawruss," abe said. "on everything which a feller buys, from pinochle decks to headache medicine, he will have to put a stamp. there will be extra stamps on all kinds of checks from bank checks and poker checks to bar checks and hat checks. there will be red stamps, blue stamps, and stamps in all pastel shades, and when they run out of colors they'll print 'em in black and white and issue them to the public in flavors like wintergreen, peppermint, spearmint, and clove for bar-check stamps and strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate nut sunday for theayter-ticket stamps." "for my part they could flavor 'em with _gefullte miltz mit knockerl_, because i got through buying orchestra seats when they begun to tax you two dollars and fifty cents for them, abe, which if the government really and truly wants to raise money by taxing the public, why do they fool away their time asking suggestions from such new beginners like lafollette and chump clark, when right here in new york there is fellers in the restaurant business, the theayter business, and running hat-check stands which has made taxing the public a life study already. for instance, if i would be the government and i wanted to tax theayter tickets, instead of monkeying around with stamps for twenty or thirty cents, y'understand, i would put a head waiter by the box-office window, and when the public is through paying for their tickets he gives them one look, y'understand, and they just naturally hand him a dollar." "what i couldn't understand is why should the government pick on people which goes to theayter for amusement," abe said. "ain't it enough that in order to hold my trade i've got to sit for three hours listening to a lot of nonsense when i could hardly keep my eyes open, but i must also get writer's cramp in my tongue from licking stamps yet just to oblige the united states government and a customer from the middle west, which it's a gamble whether he wouldn't return the goods on me even if he does give me the order." "that's what it is to have fellers working as congressmen which 'ain't had no other business experience," morris declared. "if lafollette and this here clark knew what they was about, abe, they would make it a law that the _customer_ should buy the stamps, and not alone for theayters, but for meals also. you take some of these out-of-town buyers which you've practically got to ruin their digestions before they would so much as look at your line, y'understand, and if they would got to paste a fifty-cent stamp on every broiled lobster they order up on you it would go a long way toward taking care of the uniform bills for the first draft." "and they should also got to stand for the tax on gasolene also," abe added. "if you treat one of them grafters to so much as a two-quart automobile ride, you've already sacrificed half your profit on a couple of garments, even if he does pay for the stamps." "cigars is another thing the government could of got a lot of money out of," morris said. "what do you mean--_could_ of got?" abe exclaimed. "they _do_ get a lot of money out of cigars. you take the average cigar to-day which costs sixty dollars a thousand to put on the market, mawruss, and each cigar stands the manufacturer in as follows: advertising $.01 printing and lithographing .0015 manufacturing and boxing .01 swiss chard .005 war tax .02 ---- total $.06" "sure i know," morris agreed, "but the art about taxing cigars ain't so much to sting the feller that manufactures them and the feller that buys them as the fellers which accepts them free for nothing. there is a whole lot of women's-wear retailers in the middle west which has got quite a reputation for hospitality, because whenever they have a poker game up to the house they hand out cigars which cost you and me and other garment manufacturers here in new york as much as ninety dollars a thousand wholesale. so what i say is that the government should tax anybody which accepts a cigar to smoke on the spot ten cents, and for every one of them put-it-in-your-pocket-and-smoke-it-after-a-while cigars, such a feller should be taxed ten dollars or ten days." "well, they'll get a whole lot of money raising postage from two to three cents," abe suggested. "but not so much as they could get if they was to go about it right," morris said. "for sending letters which says, 'inclosed please find check in payment of your last month's bill and oblige,' three cents is enough for any business man to pay, abe, and in fact the feller which received such a letter shouldn't ought to kick if the post office department makes him pay also three cents postage, but there is some letters which it should ought to be the law that when a merchant received one of them he should right away report the sender to the post office department for a special war-tax stamp of from one to a hundred dollars. for instance, two dollars extra wouldn't be too much postage for a letter where it says, 'your favor received and contents noted, and in reply would say you should be so kind and wait a couple days and i would see what i could do toward sending you a check for your march bill, as my wife has been sick ever since may fifteenth, and oblige, yours truly, the reliance store, m. doober, proprietor.'" "if all them overdue retailers which is all the time pulling a sick wife on their creditors was to be taxed two dollars apiece, mawruss," abe said, "how much postage do you figure a storekeeper should pay when he writes to claim a shortage in delivery before he starts to unpack the goods, even. then there is the feller which, when it don't get below zero promptly on the first of november, writes to tell you that he must say he is surprised, as the winter-weight garments which you shipped him ain't nowheres up to sample and is holding same at your disposal and remain, which if the government would come down on him for a hundred dollars, he is practically getting off with a warning. and i could think of a lot of other excess-postage cases, too, but, as i understand it, we are only trying to raise forty billion dollars, mawruss." "don't let that stop you, abe," morris said, "because there's going to be plenty of extras over and above the original estimate, which i see that a lot of south american countries is coming into the war and it's only a question of a month or so when we would have calling on us a commission from peru, a commission from chile, a commission from bolivia, a commission from paraguay, and all of them with the same hard-luck story, that if they only had a couple of billion dollars they could put an army of five hundred thousand soldiers into the field, if they only had five hundred thousand soldiers." "just the same, mawruss," abe said, "them countries is going to be a lot of help." "and when we get through paying the help, y'understand, we've still got to raise money for the family to live on," morris said, "so go ahead with your suggestion, abe. maybe there's some taxes which congress 'ain't thought of yet." "well, there's this here free speech, which, instead of being free, mawruss, if it was subject to a tax of one dollar per soap-box hour, payable strictly in advance, y'understand, so far as the pacifists is concerned, you would be able to hear a pin drop. even congressmen would soon get tired of paying from twenty to twenty-four dollars a day, especially if the government made it a stamp tax." "lafollette would be covered mit stamps from head to foot," morris remarked. "that would suit me all right," abe said, "particularly if the collector of internal revenue was to run him with stamps affixed through a cancellation-machine and cancel him good and proper." iv potash and perlmutter on bernstorff's expense account here he is coming back from his trip after losing his whole territory to his firm's competitors, and naturally he tries to make a good showing with his expense account. "i see where the government puts a limit on the price which coal-dealers could charge for coal," abe potash said to his partner, morris perlmutter. "sure, i know," morris said, "but did the coal-dealers see it, because i met felix geigermann on the subway this morning, and from the way he talked about what the coal-dealers was asking for coal up in sand plains, where he lives, abe, i gathered it was somewheres around twenty dollars a caret unset." "_gott sei dank_ i am living in an apartment mit steam heat and my lease has still got two years to run at the same rent," abe said. "well, i hope it's written on good thick paper, and then it'll come in handy to wear under your overcoat when you sit home evenings next winter, abe, because by the first of next february janitors will be giving coal to the furnace like it would be asperin--from five to ten grains every three hours," morris predicted, "which i will admit that i ain't a good enough judge of anthracite coal to tell whether it's fireproof, of slow-burning construction, or just the ordinary sprinkled risk, y'understand, but i do know coal-dealers, abe, and if the government says they must got to sell coal at seven dollars a ton, y'understand, it'll be like buying one of them high-grade automobiles where the list price includes only the engine and the two front wheels, f.o.b. detroit. in other words, abe, if you would buy coal to-day at seven dollars a ton you would get a bill something like this: to coal $7.00 to loading coal 1.00 to unloading coal 1.00 to weighing coal 1.00 to delivering coal 1.00 to dusting off coal 1.00 and you would be playing in luck if you didn't get charged a dollar each for tasting coal, smelling coal, feeling coal, and doing anything else to coal that a coal-dealer would have the nerve to charge one dollar for." "well, if i would be the united states government," abe commented, "and had got a practical coal-man like this here garfield to set a limit of seven dollars i wouldn't let them robbers pull no last rounds of rang-doodles on me, mawruss. i'd take away their chips from 'em and put 'em right out of the game." "sure i know, abe," morris said, "_aber_ this here garfield ain't a practical coal-man, abe, and maybe that's the trouble. mr. garfield is president of williams college, so you couldn't blame these here coal-dealers, because you know as well as i do, abe, the garment trade will certainly put up an awful holler if when it comes to appoint a cloak-and-suit administrator mr. wilson is going to wish on us some such expert as nicholas murray butler _oder_ the president of the union theological cemetery." "at that," abe said, "i think they'd know more about the price of garments than bernstorff did about the price of congressmen. i always give that feller credit for more sense than that he should try to explain an item in his expense account by claiming that april 3, 1917, to sundries $50,000 was what he paid for bribing the united states congress." "well, say!" morris exclaimed. "the poor feller had to tell 'em something, didn't he? here he is coming back from his trip after losing his whole territory to his firm's competitors, and naturally he tries to make a good showing with his expense account, which, believe me, abe, if i was a rotten salesman like that, before i would face my employer--and _such_ an employer, because that _rosher_ 'ain't got them spike-end mustaches for nothing, abe--i would first jump in the river, even if my expense account showed that i had been staying in a-dollar-and-a-half-a-day american-plan hotels and had sat up nights in the smoker for big jumps like from terre haute to paducah." "can you imagine the way the kaiser feels?" abe said. "i suppose at the start he was keeping so calm that he bit the end off his fountain pen and started to light the cap, and probably took one or two puffs before he noticed anything strange about the flavor, because you could easy make a mistake like that with a german cigar. "'_nu_, bernstorff,' he says, at last, as he looks at the expense account, 'before we take up the matter of this here eight-foot shelf of the world's greatest fiction i would like to hear what you got to say for yourself, so go ahead mit your lies and make it short.' "'i suppose you got my letters,' bernstorff begins, 'the ones i sent you through the swede.' "'what swede?' the kaiser says. "'yon yonson, the second assistant ambassador,' bernstorff answers. 'i told him if he got them letters through for me that you would give him an order on the chancellor for a first-class red eagle, but i guess he'd be satisfied with one of them old-rose eagles, class four b, that we used to have piled up there in the corner of the shipping-room.' "'i wouldn't even give him an order on mike, the popular berlin hatter, for a two-dollar derby, even,' the kaiser says. '_chutzpah!_ writes me letter after letter with nothing but weather reports in 'em, and he wants me i should give this here yonson a red eagle yet which costs me thirty-two fifty a dozen wholesale. seemingly to you, bernstorff, money is nothing.' "here the old man grabs ahold of the expense account again. "'honestly, bernstorff,' he says, 'i don't see how you had the heart to spend all that money when you know how things are here in berlin. if me and my gussie sits down once a week to such a piece of meat as _gedampfte brustdeckel mit kartoffelpfannkuchen_, y'understand, that's already a feast for us, and as for chicken, i assure you we 'ain't had so much as a soup fowl in the house since my birthday a year ago, and you got the nerve to send me in an expense account like this. aint it a shame and a disgrace? 1916, may 1. bolo $4.00 5. bolo 6.00 9. bolo 3.25 and every other day for week after week you spent on bolo anywheres from one to fifteen dollars. tell me, bernstorff, how could a man make such a god out of his stomach?' "'why, what do you think bolo is?' bernstorff asks. "'i don't _think_ what bolo is; i _know_ what bolo is,' the kaiser tells him, and a dreamy look comes into his eyes. 'many a time i seen my poor _grossmutter olav hasholom_ make it. she used to chop up ten onions, five cents' worth parsley, and a big piece _knoblauch_, add six eggs and a half a pound melted butter, and let simmer slowly. now take your chicken and--' "'all right, boss, i wouldn't argue with you,' bernstorff says, 'because them amounts represent only the preliminary lunches which i give this here bolo. further down you would see where he gets the real big money, and then i'll explain.' "'well, explain this,' the old man says. 'here under date july second, nineteen sixteen, it stand an item: to blowing up munitions plant $10,000 who did you get to do it? caruso?' "'you couldn't blow up a munitions plant and make a first-class job of it under ten thousand dollars, boss,' bernstorff says. "'is _that_ so?' the kaiser tells him. 'well, let me tell you something, bernstorff. i've got a pretty good line on what them munitions explosions ought to cost. my eldest boy has been blowing up buildings in france for over three years now, and for what it costs to blow up a factory he could blow up two cathedrals and a château.' "'have it your own way, boss,' bernstorff says, 'but them château buildings is so old that they're pretty near falling down, anyway.' "'don't give me no arguments,' the kaiser says. 'i suppose you're going to tell me these here 8 5-12 doz asstd bombs $3,200 was some saturday specials you picked up in a bargain basement. what was they filled with, rubies?' "'bombs is awful high, boss,' bernstorff says. 'ask dernburg what he used to pay for bombs; ask von papen; ask this here judge of the new york supreme court--i forget his name; ask anybody; they would tell you the same.' "'should i also ask 'em if spies gets paid in america the same like stomach specialists in germany? look at this: to one week's salary 12,235 spies $1,223,500 what have you been doing, bernstorff? keeping a steam-yacht on me and charging it up as spies?' "'listen, boss,' bernstorff says. 'if you would know what an awful strong organization spies has got in the united states, instead you would be talking to me this way you would be thanking your lucky stars that i didn't let 'em run the wage scale up on me no higher than they did. why, before i left washington a deputation from local number one amalgamated spies of north america comes to see me and--' "'what the devil you are talking nonsense?' the kaiser shouts. '_moost_ you got to employ union spies? couldn't you find thousands and thousands of non-union spies to work for you?' "'that only goes to show what you know about america,' bernstorff says. 'there's a whole lot of people in america which would stand for blowing up factories, sinking passenger-steamers, shooting up hospitals, and dropping bombs on kindergartens, y'understand, but when it comes to people employing scab labor, they draw the line. and then again, boss, spies is very highly thought of in america. respectable people, like lawyers and doctors, gets arrested every day over there, and even once in a while a minister, y'understand, but a spy--_never_!' "at this point when it looks like plain sailing for bernstorff, the kaiser picks out that fifty-thousand-dollar item, and right there bernstorff makes his big mistake, for as soon as he starts that congressmen story the old man begins to figure that if congressmen are so cheap and spies so dear, y'understand, the only thing to do is to call up the _polizeiprasidium_ and tell 'em to send around a plain-clothes man right away to number twenty-six a schloss platz, ring hohenzollern's bell." "then you really think that bernstorff and von papen and all them crooks didn't spend the money over here that they claimed they spent," morris said. "they probably spent it, all right," abe replied, "but whether or not they spent it for what they claimed they spent it _for_, mawruss, _that_ i don't know, because if them fellers didn't stop at arson, dynamiting, and murder, why should they hesitate at petty larceny?" "but what them boys did in the way of blowing up munitions plants and sinking passenger-steamers was because they loved the kaiser so much, and instead of arresting bernstorff for the money he spent, abe, i bet yer the kaiser made him a thirty-second degree passed assistant _geheimrat_ or something," morris declared. "well, there's no accounting for tastes, mawruss," abe said, "and if these here germans is willing to slaughter, rob, and burn because they are in love with a feller which to me has a personality as attractive as the framed insides of the entrance to a safe deposit vault, y'understand, all i can say is that i don't give them no more credit for it than i would to a bookkeeper who committed forgery because he was in love with the third lady from the end in the second row of the original bowery burlesquers." "the wonder to me is that the kaiser don't see it that way, too," morris commented. "that's because when it comes right down _to_ it, mawruss, the third lady from the end ain't no more stuck on herself than the kaiser is on _him_self," abe said. "them third ladies from the end figure that the poor suckers always _did_ like 'em, and that therefore they are always _going_ to like 'em, so they go ahead and treat their admirers like dawgs and take everything they give 'em, y'understand, and the end of it is that either a third lady becomes so careless that from a perfect thirty-six she comes to be an imperfect fifty-four and has to work for a living, or else she gets pinched for receiving the property which them poor buffaloed admirers of hers handed over to her, and that'll be the end of the kaiser, too." "and how soon do you think _that_ will happen?" morris asked. "that depends on how soon the kaiser's admirers gets through with him," abe said. "maybe the kaiser will quit first," morris concluded, "because you take them third ladies from the end, abe, and sooner or later they grow terrible tired of this here--now--fast life." v potash and perlmutter discuss on the front page and off what war done ain't a marker on what peace is going to do to a great many of these here front-page propositions which is nowadays accustomed to being continued on page two, column five, y'understand. "yes, mawruss," abe said, as he thrust aside the sporting section one sunday in october, "a people at war is like a man with a sick wife. nothing else interests him, which here it stands an account from how them loafers out in chicago plays baseball for the world's record yet, and for all the effect it has on me, mawruss, it might just so well be something which catches my eye for the first time in the old newspaper padding which my wife pulls out from under the carpet when she is house-cleaning in the spring of nineteen twenty." "well," morris said, "i must got to confess that when i seen it yesterday how this here fleisch shoots a home run there in the fifth innings, i--" "what are you talking nonsense--a home run in the fifth innings!" abe exclaimed. "the home run was made in the fourth innings. the white sox didn't make no score in the fifth innings. it was the giants which made their only run in the fifth. mccarty knocked a three-bagger and sallee singled and brought him home. _you_ tell _me_ what innings fleisch shot a home run in!" "all right, abe," morris said, "i wouldn't argue with you, but all i got to say is you're lucky that on account of the war you ain't interested in auction pinochle the way you ain't interested in baseball, otherwise you might get quite a reputation as a gambler." "i am just so much worried about this war as you are, mawruss," abe protested, "but if i couldn't take my mind off of it long enough to find out which ball team is winning the world series i would be a whole lot more worried about myself as i would be about the war, which it don't make no difference how much a man loves his wife, y'understand, if she's only sick on him long enough, mawruss, he's going to get sufficiently used to it to take in now and then a good show occasionally. in fact, mawruss, it's a relief to read once in a while in the newspapers something which ain't about the war, like a murder, y'understand, the only drawback being that along about the third day after the discovery of the body, and just when you are getting interested in the thing, general haig advances another mile on a couple of thousand kilowatt front, y'understand, and for all you can find anything in the newspaper about your murder, y'understand me, the feller needn't have troubled himself to commit it at all." "murderers ain't the only people which got swamped by the war," morris said. "take william j. bryan, for example, and up to within a year or so, abe, the newspaper publicity which william j. bryan got free, y'understand, william j. douglas would of paid a quarter of a million dollars for. take also this here hobson which sunk the _merrimac_ and lindsey m. garrison, who by resigning from the war department come within an ace and a couple of pinochle decks thrown in of ruining mr. wilson's future prospects, abe, and there was two fellers which used to get into the newspapers as regularly as harry k. thaw and peruna, and yet, abe, if any time during the past six months william j. bryan, lindsey m. garrison, and this here hobson would of been out riding together, and the automobile was to run over a cliff a hundred feet high onto a railroad track and be struck by the cannon-ball express, understand me, the most they could expect to see about it in the papers would be: news in brief an automobile rolled over an embankment at van benschoten avenue and 456th street, the bronx, landing in a railroad cut. its four occupants are in lincoln hospital. one of them, george k. smith, a chauffeur, suffered a fracture of the skull. more than fifty pawn tickets were found on peter krasnick, who was caught in brooklyn after a chase over a rear fire-escape. he is charged with burglary. * * * * * world wants work wonders and if at the last moment before the reporters goes home for the night word comes that the germans made another strong attack on hill six-sixty-six b, y'understand, they strike out everything except 'world wants work wonders' and let it go at that." "referendum and recall is something else which you used to see a whole lot about in the papers," abe said, "and while i always ducked 'em myself, at the same time there must be a whole lot of people which is wondering what ever become of 'em since the war started." "the chances is," morris declared, "if they was to come across the names referendum and recall in the papers to-day, abe, they would say it's a miracle they escaped as long as they did, because they've got a hazy impression they read it somewheres that the recollection, the resurrection, and the reproduction of the same line was sunk by u-boats about the time they torpedoed the minnieboska, the minnietoba, and all them other minnies." "prize-fighting is also got a black eye in the way of newspaper publicity since we went into the war, mawruss," abe continued, "and it ain't remarkable, neither, when you look back and think of the pages and pages the newspapers used to print about a couple of loafers trying to hurt each other with gloves on their hands, which, believe me, mawruss, a green shipping-clerk could give himself worse _makkas_ nailing up one case of goods than them boys could do to each other in a whole season already." "i bet yer," morris said, "and for such a picnic jeff willard used to get over a hundred thousand dollars yet." "can you imagine how much money one of them aviators over in the old country ought to draw under such a wage scale?" abe asked. "i read an account of what an aviator has got to do when he goes up in an airyoplane, mawruss, and at one and the same time while he is balancing himself five thousand feet in the air he takes photographs, shoots off guns, drops bombs, sends wireless telegraphs, and also runs and steers an engine which is so powerful, y'understand, that if you would be running it on dry land, mawruss, you wouldn't be able to take your mind off of it long enough to think about the high cost of camera supplies, let alone taking pictures yet." "i wonder if such a young feller has got also a knowledge of bookkeeping and stenography," morris speculated. "what difference does that make?" abe asked. "because, abe, if after the war we could get him to come to work in our place it would pay us to give him a hundred dollars a week even," morris replied, "on account it would be a cinch, after what he's been used to in his last position, for such a young feller to operate an electric rotary cutting-machine with his left hand and press garments with his right, and he has still got both legs and his head left to keep the books, answer the telephone, run a typewriter and an adding-machine, and fix up a new card index for our credit system." "at that he would probably throw up the job on account he didn't have enough to do to keep him busy, mawruss," abe commented, "and also it's going to be pretty hard for them fellers to settle down after the war gets through, considering all the excitement they've had with their names in the papers and everything." "say!" morris exclaimed. "the fact that a feller like hindenberg is now getting his name in the paper the way it used to was a few years ago with hannah elias and cassie chadwick ain't no criterion to judge by, abe, because what war done to make the newspapers forget their old friends bryan and evelyn nesbut ain't a marker on what peace is going to do to a great many of these here front-page propositions which is nowadays accustomed to being continued on page two, column five, y'understand. why, i wouldn't be a bit surprised if in about five or six years from now, abe, you are going to take up the paper some morning and read an item like this: obituary notes max k. hindenberg, 83 years old, a clothing merchant, member of the firm of hindenberg & levy, and recording secretary of sigmund meyer post no. 97 veterans of the war of 1914-1918, died early yesterday at his home, 2076 east 8th street, potsdam, germany, yesterday. deceased was a native of east prussia. and the chances is that ninety-nine out of a hundred people ain't even going to say to themselves, 'where did i hear that name before?'" "that's where you make a big mistake, mawruss," abe said. "hindenberg is a very popular feller in germany, and i bet yer that on every map filed in the county clerks' offices of prussian real-estate developments during the past three years there's a hindenberg street or a hindenberg avenue, to say nothing of the babies which has been born over there and named max hindenberg goldsticker or max hindenberg schwartz." "sure i know," morris said, "and you can take my word for it, abe, along about nineteen hundred and thirty-five there's going to be a whole lot of lawyers over in deutschland making from twenty-five to fifty marks a throw for putting through motions in the court of common pleas for the city and county of berlin that the name of the said applicant, max h. goldsticker or max h. schwartz, as the case may or may not be, be and the same hereby is changed to frank pershing goldsticker or woodrow w. schwartz. also, abe, if ever they open up charlottenberg heights overlooking beautiful lake hundekehlen as per plat filed in the office of the register of brandenburg county, y'understand, there'll be a helfferich place, a liebknecht avenue, and even a bebel terrace maybe, but in twenty years from now a german real-estater wouldn't be able even to give away lots free for nothing on any hindenberg street or hindenberg avenue, not if he was to throw in a two-family house with portable garage complete." "well, you could say the same thing about this country, too," abe declared, "which twenty years from now, people wouldn't know whether the word _viereck_ was a fish or a cheese; and as for all them college professors which got fired recently because they made the mistake of thinking that a college professor gets paid to fool away his time making speeches against the government the same like a united states senator, y'understand, i couldn't even remember their names to-day yet, so you can imagine how they're going to go down in history, mawruss: compared to them fellers, there are a few thousand notary publics whose names will be household words already." "any man who thinks he is going to make a name for himself by talking or writing against his country is due to get badly fooled, i don't care if he would be a college professor, a united states senator, or an editor, abe," morris said, "because the most he could hope for is the thing what usually happens him. he gets fired, abe, and the only reputation a feller gets by getting fired is the reputation for getting fired, and that ain't much of a recommendation when he comes to look for another job." "the people i am sorry for is the wives of these here professors," abe said, "which even when a college professor has got steady work his wife 'ain't got no bed of roses to make both ends meet, neither, and i bet yer more than one of them ladies will got to do a little plain sewing for a living on account her husband became so hot-headed over this here pacifism." "that's the trouble with them pacifists," morris concluded. "if they would only take some of the heat out of their heads and put it into their feet, abe, they could hold onto their jobs and their wives wouldn't got to go to work at all. am i right or wrong?" vi potash and perlmutter on hooverizing the overhead when a feller reckons the overhead on the goods he manufactures he figures in one-twelfth of his telephone number, one-twelfth of the year he was born, and one-twelfth of every other number he can remember from his automobile to his street number. "of course, mawruss, i don't claim that mr. hoover don't know his business nor nothing like that," abe potash said as he finished reading a circular mailed to him by the food conservation director, "but at the same time if i would be permitted to make a suggestion, mawruss, i would suggest that in addition to following out all the don'ts in this here food-conservation circular--and also in the interests of being strictly economical, y'understand--the women of the country should learn it genwine southern cooking, the kind they've got it in two-dollars-a-day american-plan southern hotels, mawruss, and not only would people eat much less than they eat at present, but the chances is it would fix some people so they wouldn't eat at all." "why _southern_ cooking?" morris perlmutter asked. "for that matter, two-dollar-a-day american-plan eastern cooking wouldn't make you eat yourself red in the face, neither, which the last time i was in new bedford they gave me for lunch some fried schrod, and i give you my word, abe, i'd as lieve eat a pair of feet-proof socks, including the guarantee and the price ticket. but that ain't neither here or there, abe. nobody could pin medals on himself for being a small eater in a hotel, abe, _aber_ the test comes when you arrive home from the store at half past seven and your wife sets before you a plate of _gedampfte kalbfleisch_ which if a chef in delmonico's would cook such a thing like that, abe, the ritz-carlton would pay john g. stanchfield a retainer of one hundred thousand dollars to advise them how the fellow's contract could be broken with delmonico's so they could get him to come to work for them. and that's why i am telling you, abe, when you get such a plate of _gedampfte kalbfleisch_ in front of you, which the steam comes up from it like roses, y'understand, and when you put a piece of it in your mouth it's like--" "say, listen," abe protested, "let me alone, will you? it's only eleven o'clock, and i couldn't go out to lunch for another hour yet." "that only goes to show what for a stomach patriot you are, abe," morris commented. "even when we are only _talking_ about food you couldn't restrain yourself, so what must it be like when you've got the food actually on the table? i bet yer you don't remember that such a feller as hoover ever existed at all, let alone what he says about eating reasonable." [illustration: "'so,' mrs. hoover says, 'you had one of them sixty-cent table-d'hôte lunches to-day again, and now of course you 'ain't got no appetite. how many times did i tell you you shouldn't eat that poison?'"] "that's all right, mawruss," abe said. "mr. hoover could talk that way, because maybe his wife ain't such a crank about her cooking like my rosie is, y'understand, _aber_ if mr. hoover would be me, mawruss, and there comes on the table some _gestoffte miltz_ which mrs. hoover has been breaking her back standing over the stove all the afternoon seeing that it don't stick to the bottom of the kettle, y'understand, and mr. hoover takes only a couple slices of it on account of the war, y'understand, what is going to happen then? "'so,' mrs. hoover says, 'you had one of them sixty-cent table-d'hôte lunches to-day again, and now of course you 'ain't got no appetite. how many times did i tell you you shouldn't eat that poison?' "'so sure as i am sitting here, mommer,' hoover says, 'all i had for my lunch was a swiss-cheese rye-bread sandwich and a cup coffee.' "'then what's the matter you ain't eating?' mrs. hoover says. 'ain't it cooked right?' "'certainly it's cooked right,' hoover says. 'but two pieces is a plenty on account of the war.' "'on account of the war! i could work my fingers to the bone fixing good food for that man, and he wouldn't eat it on account of the war, _sagt er_,' says mrs. hoover. "'but, listen, mommer--' hoover tries to tell her. "'never mind, any excuse is better than none,' mrs. hoover says. 'turns up his nose at my cooking yet! _gestoffte miltz_ ain't good _enough_ for him. i suppose you would like me to give you every day roast duck on twenty dollars a week housekeeping money. did you ever hear the like? couldn't eat _gestoffte miltz_ no more, so tony he gets all of a sudden!' "'_aber_ mommer, listen to me for a moment,' hoover says, but it ain't a bit of use because mrs. hoover goes into the bedroom and locks the door on him, and by the time he has got her to be on speaking terms again he has violated the don't-eat-no-sugar don't to the extent of four dollars and fifty cents for a five-pound box of mixed chocolates and bum-bums, understand me. also just to show that she forgives him they take in a show mit afterward a supper in which mr. hoover violates not only all the other don'ts in the food-conservation circulars, but also makes himself liable to go to jail for giving a couple of dollars to a german head waiter under the trading with the enemy law." "at that, the way some of our best hotels conservates food nowadays is setting a good example to the women of the country," morris declared. "what do you mean--nowadays?" abe retorted. "they always conservated food, the only difference being, mawruss, that in former times, when them crooks used to get ten portions of chicken _à la_ king out of a two-pound cold-storage chicken and charged you a dollar and a quarter a portion for it, y'understand, they was a bunch of crooks--ain't it?--whereas nowadays when them crooks get eleven portions out of the same chicken and charge you a dollar and a half a portion for it, y'understand, they're a bunch of patriots, understand me, which if the coal-dealer and the retail grocer and butcher would short-weight you and overcharge you the way some of them patriotic new york hotel proprietors does, it would be hard to find many patriots in new york city outside of blackwells island _oder_ the tombs prison." "and yet, abe, if you would go to work and figure out the overhead on a chicken which is used for eleven portions of chicken _à la_ king," morris said, "you would find that the hotel-keeper gets his profit only from the neck which he uses for chicken consommé." "well, say!" abe exclaimed. "a profit of six cups of chicken consommé at forty cents a cup ain't to be sneezed at, neither, and even then you are taking the hotel-keeper's word for the overhead, which i don't care if a feller would be ordinarily a regular george washington, y'understand, and wouldn't even lie to his wife about how he come out in his weekly saturday-night pinochle game, understand me, but when such a feller reckons the overhead on the goods he manufactures it don't make no difference if it would be locomotive engines or pants, in addition to the legitimate cost of every one-twelfth dozen articles, he figures in as overhead one-twelfth of his telephone number, one-twelfth of the year he was born, one-twelfth of how old his grandfather _olav hasholom_ was when he married for the fourth time, and one-twelfth of every other number he can remember, from his automobile number to his street number, and usually such a crook lives in the last house from the city limits." "i tell yer, abe," morris said, "the feller which invented poison gas was some _rosher_, and the feller which invented t.m.t. also, but the feller which invented the overhead is in a class by himself just behind the kaiser. i don't know what his name is, but he is the feller what fixed things so that a ten-cent loaf of bread has not only got into it the air-holes which is caused by the yeast, but also the air-holes which is caused by the lawyer's bill that the baking company paid at the time they issued their five-million-dollar consolidated and refunding four-per-cent. first-mortgage bonds, y'understand, and there's just as much nourishment in that kind of air-hole for a truck-driver's family of growing children as there is in any other kind of air-hole." "well, the bakers 'ain't got nothing on the farmers when it comes to cost bookkeeping, mawruss," abe said. "i was reading where the milk-raisers' _verein_ claims the price of feed is so high that they've got to sell milk at ten cents a quart wholesale, but for all them farmers figure that the same feed goes to fatten the cow for the market, mawruss, you might suppose that there was a big institution somewheres up state called the ezra b. cornell home for aged and indignant cows, y'understand, and that so soon as a cow gets through giving milk, y'understand, instead of slaughtering it the farmer takes it to the home in his automobile and contributes five dollars a week toward its support until it dies of hardening of the arteries at the age of eighty-two." "take it from me, abe," morris said, "them farmers ain't such farmers as people think they are. it's going to be so, pretty soon, that people will be paying two dollars and a half for an orchestra seat and pretty near break their hearts while the poor old second-mortgage shark is being turned out of his little home by the farmer." "and on the opening night, mawruss, the front rows will be filled with milk agents," abe said, "and after the show you will see them sitting around rector's and churchill's and getting terrible noisy over a magnum of sheffield farms nineteen sixteen." "of course nobody is going to be the worser for making a joke about such things, abe," morris interrupted, "but last winter when these fellers which gets off mommerlogs in vaudeville shows was talking about somebody being immensely wealthy on account his breath smelt from onions, y'understand, there wasn't many people raising a family on less than twenty-five dollars a week whose breath smelt from onions at that." "did i say they did?" abe asked. "and it is the same way with potatoes and fruit, not to say fish and poultry and all the other foods which mr. hoover says we should eat in order to save beef, sugar, and flour for the soldiers," morris continued. "when a woman buys nowadays flounder at twenty-five cents a pound, she is paying ten cents for fish and fifteen cents toward the fish-dealer's wife's diamonds or his six-cylinder automobile, so if i would be mr. hoover, before i issued bread and meat cards to the consumer i would hand out automobile and diamond cards to the fish-dealer and the vegetable-dealer and maybe it would help to stop them fellers from loading their prices with what it costs 'em to keep up their expensive habits." "a fish-dealer is entitled to expensive habits the same like anybody else," abe said, "which if mr. hoover stops him from buying his wife once in a while diamonds, sooner or later mr. hoover will stop him from buying his wife furs and it will work down right along the line till mr. hoover hits the garment business, mawruss, which, while i ain't got no particular sympathy for a fish-dealer, y'understand, his money is just so good as the next one's, so i ask you, as a garment-manufacturer, what are you going to do about it?" "let him buy liberty bonds." "but in that case, how many liberty bonds could the diamond merchant, the automobile-manufacturer, or the furrier buy?" "say, looky here," morris said, "let me alone, will you? this is something which is up to mr. hoover, not me." "i know it is," abe concluded, "and i've got a great deal of sympathy for him, too, because before mr. hoover gets through he would not only make a bunch of enemies, mawruss, but he is going to use up a whole lot of headache medicine, and don't you forget it." vii potash and perlmutter on foreign affairs the hopeless part of it is that there's no way of putting a nation of ninety million people in a lunatic asylum, even if there was an asylum big enough to hold them, which there ain't. "i see where the french president is going to lose his prime minister again," abe potash said, "which the way that feller is always changing prime ministers, mawruss, he must be a terrible hard man to work for." "say," morris perlmutter replied, "i've got enough to think about keeping track of what happens here in this country without i should worry my head over political _meises_ in france." "well, you are the same like a whole lot of americans," abe said, "which for all they read about what is going on over in europe the edison manufacturing company might just so well never have invented the telegraph at all." "i don't _got_ to read it with such a statesman like you around here," morris retorted, "so go ahead and tell me: what did the french prime minister done _now_ that he gets fired for it?" "that only goes to show what you know from prime ministers!" abe declared. "a prime minister never gets fired, mawruss--he resigns, and while i admit that nine times out of ten when the french president has had a prime minister resign on him, it's probably been a case of the stenographer tipping the prime minister off that before the boss went to lunch he said, 'if that grafter's still here when i come back there'll be another prime minister going around on crutches,' y'understand, yet at the same time this here last prime minister has been right on the job, and the french president has been quite worried for fear he's going to quit." "well, let him get along _without_ a prime minister for a while," morris said. "with the money the french people is spending for war supplies it won't do him no harm to cut down his pay-roll, and, besides, what does he want a prime minister for, _anyway_? has president wilson got a prime minister? them people come over here a couple of months ago and cashed in a hard-luck story for a matter of a few hundred million dollars, y'understand, and like a lot of come-ons that we are, understand me, it never even occurred to us but what them boys was living right up close to the cushion." "how much do you think a prime minister draws, mawruss--a million a week?" abe asked. "it ain't how much he draws," morris said. "it's the idea of the thing which i don't care if he only gets five dollars a day and commissions, abe, if president wilson would got a prime minister working for him instead of attending to the business himself, which is what president wilson gets paid for, y'understand, there's many a time when the president has been out late at the theayter or when he is feeling under the weather, understand me, where he would say: 'why should i kill myself slaving day in, day out, like a slave, y'understand. what have i got a prime minister for, anyway?' and that's how i bet yer the french president has passed over to the prime minister a whole lot of important stuff which the poor _nebich_ was bound to slip up on, because, after all, a prime minister is only a prime minister." "maybe you're right," abe admitted, "but at the same time there's some pretty smart prime ministers, too, which you take this here prime minister lord george, over in england, and that feller practically runs the country. in fact, as i understand it, king george leaves the entire management to him, so much confidence he's got in the feller." "perhaps it's because this here lord george and king george is related maybe," morris suggested. "i don't think so," abe replied. "the names is only a quincidence, which even before lord george was ever heard of at all the prime minister always run things in england while the king put in his whole time opening charity bazars and laying corner-stones. first and last i suppose that feller has laid more corner-stones than all the heads of all the fraternal orders in the united states put together, and if there's such a disease as grand master's thumb, like smoker's heart and housemaid's knee, mawruss, i'll bet that king george has got it." [illustration: "perhaps it's because this here lord george and king george is related maybe," morris suggested. "i don't think so," abe replied. "the name is only a quincidence."] "well an english king can afford to spend his time that way," morris said, "because them english prime ministers is really prime, y'understand, whereas you take the prime ministers which the czar _nebich_, the king of greece, and even the king of sweden had it, and instead of them prime ministers being prime, understand me, they ranged all the way from sirloin to chuck, as they would say in the meat business." "some of the english prime ministers wasn't so awful prime, neither," abe said. "take the feller which was holding down the job of prime minister around july fourth, seventeen seventy-six, and the way that boy let half a continent slip through his fingers was enough to make king schmooel the second, or whatever the english king's name was in them days, swear off laying corner-stones for the rest of his life. also the english prime minister which engineered the real-estate deal where germany got ahold of the island of heligoland wasn't what mr. p.b. armour would call first cut exactly, which, if england would now own heligoland instead of germany, mawruss, such a serial number as u fifty-three for a german submarine would never have been heard of. they would have stopped short at u two or u two b." "well, anybody's liable to get stuck in a swap with vacant lots, abe," morris said, "and the chances is the poor feller figured that with this here heligoland, the only person who would have the nerve to call such real estate _real estate_, y'understand, would be a real-estater with a first-class imagination when the tide was out." "that's what germany figured, too," abe said, "and the consequence is she went to work and improved them vacant lots with fortifications which lay so low in the water, mawruss, that from two miles out at sea no one would dream of such things--least of all an admiral." "so how could you blame a prime minister if he didn't suspect what germany was up to when she bought that sand-bank?" morris asked. "of course that was a long time before the war, mawruss," abe said. "nowadays the dumbest prime minister knows enough to know that coming from a german diplomat a simple remark like, 'good morning, ain't it an elegant weather we are having?' is subject to one of several constructions, none of which is exactly what you could call _kosher_, y'understand." "and supposing he finds such a remark in a letter from a german diplomat to the kaiser, abe?" morris asked. "what does it mean then?" "that depends on where it is written from," abe said, "which if the minister of foreign affairs down in paraguay or peru finds out that a german ambassador has written home to the effect that he is feeling quite well again and hopes this letter finds you the same, y'understand, the foreign minister hustles over to the war department and wants to know if they are going to allow him to be insulted in that way by a dirty crook like that. on the other hand, if the chief of the united states secret service gets ahold of a letter from any one of them honorary german diplomats who is practically holding down the job of imperial german consul to the bronx while drawing the salary of--we would say, for example--a new york supreme court justice, mawruss, and if the letter says, 'accept my best wishes for a prosperous and happy new year in which my wife joins and remain,' y'understand, that means the copper was shipped in pasteboard containers marked: prunes use no hooks." "the german secret service certainly fixes up some wonderful cipher codes, abe," morris said. "sometimes as much as two hours and a quarter passes before a united states secret service man gets the right dope on one of them code letters." "sure, i know," abe said. "but most times he don't have no more trouble over it than the average business man would with a baseball column, which the way every government secret service knows every other government's secret service's secrets, mawruss, it's a wonder to me that they don't call the whole thing off by mutual consent, because the only difference between government secret services is that some secret services is louder than others. take, for instance, the german secret service, and there was months and months when this here dr. heinrich albert, captain von papen and his boy ed got as much newspaper publicity as one of them rotten shows which received such a good notice from the cricket of the _cloak and suit gazette_ that the manager thinks it may have a chance, y'understand. why, there wasn't a district messenger-boy which couldn't direct you to number eleven broadway, where that secret service had its head offices, and i would be very much surprised if they didn't ship their bombs from number eleven broadway, to the steamboat docks in covered automobile delivery-wagons with signs painted on 'em: telephone battery 2222 german secret service 'we lead--others follow' 11 broadway ask about our special service plan for furnishing explosives by the month at low rates." "at the same time, abe," morris remarked, "the germans make things pretty secret when they want to, otherwise how could the kaiser have kept that mutiny under his chest for over a couple of months?" "and you could take it from me, mawruss," abe said, "before michaelis let it out in the reichstag, he might just so well have stopped in at the _lokal anzeiger_ office on his way down-town and inserted a couple of lines or so under the head of 'situations wanted males.'" "why, i thought you said a prime minister never gets fired," morris said. "prime ministers is one thing and chancellors another, mawruss," abe told him. "then i imagine this here michaelis must be putting in a lot of time nowadays going over his contract to see if he's got any come-back against the party of the first part in case that crook fires him," morris said. "well, he can keep on looking till he finds another job," abe replied, "because the kaiser is like a lot of other highwaymen in the cutting-up trade, mawruss. to them fellers the first and most important thing about a contract is the loopholes, y'understand, and after that's fixed they don't care what goes into it, which you take that contract of michaelis's and i bet yer that a police-court lawyer could drive an armored tank through them paragraphs which is supposed to hold the kaiser, y'understand, whereas if _michaelis_ wanted to get out of it, mawruss, he could go to work and hire messrs. hughes, brandeis, stanchfield, hughes & stanchfield, supposing there was _gott soll huten_ such a firm of lawyers, and they wouldn't be able to find so much as a comma out of place for him." "and as a good german, abe, michaelis would be awful disappointed if they did," morris said, "because that's the way the germans feel toward the kaiser. he robs 'em, he murders 'em, and he starves their wives and children to death, just so him and his family could run the country, and them poor heinies says to one another: 'that's the kind of a kaiser to have! a big strong man which he don't give a nickel for nobody! he's a wonder, all right, and if we didn't have a feller like that at the head of the country i don't know how we would be able to stand all the trouble that cutthroat and his crook family is causing us--heaven bless them.'" "the hopeless part of it is," abe commented, "that there's no way of putting a nation of ninety million people in a lunatic asylum, even if there was an asylum big enough to hold them, which there ain't, mawruss." "and as much as you sympathize with a lunatic, you can't have him going around loose, abe," morris said, "so what are we going to do about it?" "well, we're trying hard to shut 'em up in germany again," abe declared, "and after we've got them there, mawruss, i am willing to stand my share of the expense that the war should go on long enough to give them lunatics a little home treatment, y'understand, and by home treatment, mawruss, i mean not only treating the lunatics themselves, but also treating their homes," abe continued, growing red in the face at the thought of it, "which i only hope that i live long enough to see a moving picture of german homes the same like i seen moving pictures of french homes and belgian homes, and if that don't sweat the kaiser-mania out of their systems they are crazy for keeps." viii potash and perlmutter on lordnorthcliffing versus colonelhousing while lord northcliff is colonelhousing over here, colonel house is lordnorthcliffing over in england, and the main point about their being where they are is that they ain't where the people are which sent them there. "well, i see where president wilson says that women should have the right to vote the same like shipping-clerks and bartenders, mawruss," abe said, "which it's a funny thing to me the way some people claims they never could see that two and two make four till the war comes along and gives them a brand-new point of view." "at that, you've got to give president wilson credit that it only took a war like this here european war to bring him to his senses," morris perlmutter said, "whereas with eli u. root, abe, it's got to happen yet another war twice as big as this one, three more revolutions in russland, and a couple of earthquakes _doch_; before he is even going to say, 'maybe you're right, but that's my opinion and i stick _to_ it.'" "in a way, mawruss, eli u. root ain't as unreasonable as he looks," abe said. "he says that if the women gets the vote, y'understand, they would--" "listen, abe," morris interrupted, "i don't want to hear what this here root has got to say about _if_ women voted in america, y'understand, because over four million women does vote in america, and some of them has been voting for years already, and when it comes to talking about _ifs_, abe, _if_ eli u. root 'ain't noticed that four million women vote in this country where eli u. root is supposed to understand the language as well as speak it, understand me, what did mr. root notice over in russland, where he neither spoke russian nor understood it, neither?" "don't kid yourself, mawruss," abe said. "that feller knows just so good as you do that there's four million women voting in america; also he knows that the women of colorado, where women vote, don't act no different from the women of pennsylvania, where women don't vote, but that's an argument in favor of women voting, whereas root is arguing against it." "that ain't an argument," morris protested; "it's a fact." abe shrugged his shoulders despairingly. "what does a first-class a-number-one lawyer like root care about facts if they ain't in his favor?" he asked. "also, mawruss, if mr. root now comes out in favor of women voting, y'understand, that would be a case of changing his mind, and you know as well as i do, mawruss, the real brainy fellers of the world never changes their mind." "not even when the facts is against them?" morris asked. "they don't pay no attention to the facts," abe said. "you take this here morris hillkowitz or hillquit which he is running for mayor of new york on the socialistic ticket, and for years already that feller went around saying that it was the people which lived in the two-thousand-a-year apartments and owned expensive automobiles which was squashing the protelariat, y'understand, and now when it comes out in the papers that he is living in a thousand-dollar-a-year apartment and running an expensive automobile, mawruss, does he turn around and say that it's all a mistake and that in reality it's the protelariat which is squashing the feller with the two-thousand-dollar-a-year apartment and expensive automobile? _oser a stück!_" "well, it only goes to show that a feller can even make money by being a socialist if he only sticks to it long enough," morris said. "at that, he's probably got more sympathy mit the protelariat than he ever did, mawruss, because before he owned an automobile he only _suspected_ what them fellers was missing by being poor. now he _knows_." "and i suppose by the time he is running for president on the socialistic ticket," morris said, "he'll be owning a steam-yacht and the wrongs of the working classes will be pretty near breaking his heart." "even so, mawruss, he won't be changing his mind, and i don't know but what he'll be acting wise, too," abe said, "because when a politician gets a reputation for carrying a certain line of stable opinions his customers naturally expects that he is going to continue to carry 'em, and when he drops that line and lays in a stock of new stuff in the way of political ideas, y'understand, his customers leave him and he's got to build up his trade over again; and that's no way for a feller to get into the steam-yacht class--i don't care if he would be a politician or a garment-manufacturer." "well, of course, if a feller's opinions is his living, you couldn't blame him for not changing 'em," morris said, "_aber_ this here root is already retired from business, and the chances is that, the way he's got his money invested, it wouldn't make no difference _how_ liberal-minded he was, the corporations would have to pay the coupons, anyway." "i know they would," abe agreed, "but you take some of these senators and congressmen which they started out before we was at war with germany to show an attractive line of pro-german ideas--that is to say, attractive to their regular customers out in wisconsin and saint louis, understand me, and people don't figure that them poor fellers has got mortgages falling due on 'em next year and boys to put through college. for all people knows, mawruss, this here mclemon which used to make a speciality of speeches warning americans off of ocean steamships was supporting half his wife's family and widowed sister that way. the chances is that he sees now what a rotten line of argument that was, and he would like to switch over and display some snappy nineteen-seventeen-model speeches about the freedom of the seas for american sitsons, understand me, but you know yourself how it is when your wife has got a large family, mawruss: if one of her sisters ain't having an emergency operation on you, it's a case of doing something quick to keep her youngest brother out of jail, and either way you are stuck a couple of hundred dollars, so you couldn't blame a congressman who refuses to change his mind and risk losing his territory, even if all the rest of the country _is_ calling him a regular benedictine arnold, y'understand." "well, sooner or later some of these big _machers_ has got to change their minds, otherwise the war will never be over," morris said. "the kaiser has said over and over again that, once having put on her shiny armor, y'understand, the fatherland would never let the sword out of its hand till england was finally crushed and _gott mit uns_, and lord george and lord northcliff has said the same thing about germany excepting _gott mit uns_. also france in this great hour would never lay down the sword, and _we_ would never lay down the sword. furthermore to hear austria talk, and kerensky, venizelos, and the king of rumania, there would be such a continuous demand for swords that it would pay charles n. schwab and this here judge gary to organize the consolidated sword company or the united states sword corporation with a plant covering sixteen acres and an issue of one hundred million dollars preferred stock and two hundred and fifty million dollars common stock and let the cannon and torpedo business go." "sure, i know," abe said. "but when the kaiser says that germany would never stop fighting till her enemies is in the dust, speaking of germany as a she-fatherland, or till its enemies is in the dust, speaking of germany as an it-fatherland, mawruss, if you was a mind-reader, mawruss, you would see 'way back in the rear of his brain one of them railroad time-table signs: _(gg) will stop daily after january first, nineteen-nineteen_." "i hope you are right, abe," morris commented, "but i see where this here lord northcliff says that the war is really just beginning, and so far as i can discover that goes without foot-notes or notices that care is taken to have same correct, but the company will not be responsible for delays or for errors in the printing, y'understand." "well, i'll tell you," abe said, "i don't know nothing about this here lord northcliff. i admit also that i don't know what his standing as a lord is or when he joined. in fact, i don't even know what a lord has to pay for initiation fees and annual dues, let alone what sick benefit he draws and what they pay to the widow in case a lord dies, understand me, but i don't care if this here northcliff, instead of a lord, was an elk or an odd fellow, y'understand, he can't tell when this war is going to end no more than i can." "but i understand this here northcliff is an awful smart feller, abe," morris said. "he owns already a couple dozen newspapers in the old country, and if he wouldn't have the right dope on this here war, i don't know who would." "say!" abe protested. "nobody could get the right dope about this war out of any newspaper, even if he owned it, mawruss, because you know as well as i do, mawruss, if the city edition says the germans is starving, y'understand, and couldn't last through the winter, understand me, that ain't no guarantee that they wouldn't be getting plenty of food in the home edition and starving again in the five-star final sporting extra with complete wall street, mawruss, so the way i figure it is that this here northcliff has got the idea that if he tells us the war is only beginning we are going to brace up, and if he says the chances is the war would last twenty years yet and that half the world would be down and out with starvation and sickness before it is finished up, y'understand, we are going to say: 'this is _great_. we must get in on this.'" "maybe that's the way they get results in the newspaper business, abe," morris remarked, "but in the garment business, if i am trying to turn out a big order, y'understand, i tell the operators that the quicker they get through the sooner they will be finished, y'understand, and i make a point of saying that they are practically on the home stretcher even if they are just beginning." "that ain't such a bad plan, neither," abe admitted, "but there should ought to be some way to strike an average between your ideas for hurrying up and this you-would-be-all-right-if-blood-poisoning-don't-set-in encouragement of lord northcliff's, mawruss, so that we wouldn't think we'd got too easy a job, but at the same time we wouldn't feel like throwing away the sponge, neither." "i think he means well, _anyhow_," morris said, "which he is trying to tell us that we shouldn't think we've got such a cinch as all that; because you know it used to was before this war started, abe. every once in a while at a lodge meeting some grand army man, who was also, we would say, for example, in the pants business, would get up and make a speech that if this great and glorious land of ours was to be threatened with an invasion by any foreign king or potentate, y'understand, an army of a million soldiers would spring up overnight, and all his lodge brothers would say ain't it wonderful how an old man like that stays as bright as a dollar, y'understand. _but_, just let the same feller get up and make a speech that if the pants business was to be threatened with a strike by any foreign or domestic walking-delegate, understand me, an army of a million pants-operators would spring up overnight, y'understand, and before he had a chance to sit down even them same lodge brothers would have rung for a bellevue ambulance and passed resolutions of sympathy for his family. and yet, abe, a learner on pants becomes an expert in six days, whereas it takes six months at the very least to train a soldier." "that's why lord northcliff is making all them discouraging speeches," abe said. "he's a business man, mawruss, and he appreciates that we are up against a tough business proposition." "but what i don't understand is: where does lord northcliff come in to be neglecting his newspapers the way he does?" morris said. "is he an ambassador or something?" "well, for that matter," abe retorted, "where does colonel house come in to be neglecting the cloth-sponging business or whatever business the colonel is in? it's a stand-off, mawruss. while lord northcliff is colonelhousing over here, colonel house is lordnorthcliffing over in england, and just exactly what that _is_, mawruss, i don't know, but i got a strong suspicion that the main point about their being where they are is that they ain't where the people are which sent them there, if you understand what i mean." "and i bet they both feel flattered at that," morris concluded. ix potash and perlmutter on national music and national currency some people wouldn't care what they said, just so long as they could give the impression that they was regular sharks when it come to music, but what kind of impression they gave when it come to patriotism and common sense, such people don't give a nickel. "it seems that this here doctor muck wouldn't play the national anthem, mawruss, because he found it was inartistic," abe potash said as he turned to the editorial page of his daily paper. "well, how did he find the national currency, abe?" morris perlmutter inquired. "also inartistic?" "he didn't say," abe replied. "but a statement was given out by major higginson that--" "who's major higginson?" morris asked. "he's the feller that owns the boston symphony orchestra which this here doctor muck is the conductor of it," abe replied. "that must be an elegant orchestra, abe," morris commented. "a major is running it and a doctor is conducting it. i suppose they've got working for them as fiddlers a lot of attorneys and counselors at law, and the chances is that if a feller was to come there looking for a job operating a trombone on account he had had experience as a practical tromboner with the new york philharmonics, y'understand, they would probably turn him down unless he could show a diploma from a recognized school of pharmacy." "for all i know, they might insist on having a certified public accountant, mawruss," abe said, "but he would have to be a shark on the trombone, anyway, because i understand this here doctor muck and major higginson run a high-class orchestra." "well, it only goes to show that you don't got to got a whole lot of common sense to run a high-grade orchestra, abe," morris retorted, "which if i would be a german doctor stranded in boston, y'understand, and i had to _gott soll huten_ conduct an orchestra for a living, i would consider to myself that there ain't many americans in or out of the medical profession conducting orchestras over in germany just now which is refusing to play '_die wacht am rhein_' or '_heil im der siegerkranz_' on artistic grounds and getting away with it. furthermore, abe, doctor muck should ought to figure that no matter if he was running the highest-grade orchestra in existence or anyhow in the state of massachusetts, y'understand, and if nobody pays for a ticket to hear it, what _is_ it? am i right or wrong?" "he probably thought there was enough americans crazy about music to make his orchestra pay even if he did insult them, mawruss," abe said, "because you know as well as i do, mawruss, there was a lot of sympathy shown by americans to them german singers which got fired at the metropolitan opera house for insulting americans or being pro-german. it seems that one of them made up a funny song about the sinking of the _lusitania_, and some of the americans which heard him sing it said that the tone production was wonderful, and that such a really remarkable breath control, y'understand, they hadn't heard it since adelina patti in her palmiest days, and i bet yer if doctor muck was to take that song and set it to music so as the boston symphony orchestra could play it them same people and plenty like them would say that the wood wind was this, the strings was that, and something about the coda and the obbligato, y'understand. in fact, mawruss, they wouldn't care what they said, just so long as they could give the impression that they was regular sharks when it come to music, but what kind of impression they gave when it come to patriotism and common sense, such people seemingly don't give a nickel. "why, you take this here lady singer at the metropolitan opera house," abe continued, "which her husband was agent for the krupp manufacturing company, and when she got fired, y'understand, it looked like some of these here breath-control and tone-production experts was going to hold a meeting and regularly move and second that a copy of the said resolutions suitably engrossed be transmitted to her, care of krupp manufacturing company, twenty forty-two, four six, and eight buelow boulevard, essen, on account she had been working for the metropolitan opera house for pretty near twenty years, which the way some of them singers goes on singing year after year at the metropolitan opera house, mawruss, sometimes you couldn't tell whether the metropolitan opera house was an opera-house or a home, y'understand." "that's neither here nor there, abe," morris said. "there ain't no reason to my mind why the metropolitan opera house shouldn't ought to hire ladies whose husbands is working for american concerns or is out of a job, y'understand, and also it wouldn't be a bad idea to see that some of them barytones and bassos which was formerly sending home every week from two to five hundred dollars apiece to the old folks in charlottenburg and wilmersdorf, y'understand, give up their places to a few native-born fellers who contributed to the first and second liberty loans, understand me, and ain't supporting a relation in the world." "but the point which them coda and obbligato fans make is that if a feller like this here captain kreisler of the austrian army is the best fiddler in existence, y'understand, it's up to us americans to pay two dollars and fifty cents a throw, not including war tax, to hear him fiddle, and that we shouldn't ought to got no _rishus_ against him even if he would be only over here on a leave of absence dating from january first, nineteen fifteen, up to and including seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars," abe said, "because it is claimed that the best fiddlers in the world and the best conductors in the world don't belong to any country. they are international." "maybe they are, abe," morris agreed, "but the money which they earn belongs to the country in which they spend it, understand me, which my idea is that these are war-times, and if the ordinary people is willing to take their wheat bread with a little potato flour in it, them big-league music fans should ought to be willing to take their fiddle-playing with a few sour notes in it, so if the best fiddler in the world is an austrian who spends his money at home, y'understand, they should ought to be contented with the next best one, and if he is also an austrian or a german let them work on right straight down the line till they find one who ain't, because trading with the enemy is trading with the enemy, whether you are trading with a german fiddler or a german fish-dealer, and if you are going to hand over money to germany it don't make much difference if you do it in the name of art or in the name of fish." "well, you couldn't exactly feel the same way about an artist with his art as you could about a fish-dealer with his fish," abe protested. "i didn't say you could," morris said. "i've got every respect for this here kreisler as a feller which plays something elegant on the fiddle, but at the same time he has had himself extensively advertised with pictures the same like king c. gillette and william l. douglas, and that's probably what made him, abe, because it's pretty safe to say that if you could by any possibility induce and persuade them people which is hollering about art being international and kreisler being the best fiddler in existence, y'understand, to go and hear kreisler at a concert where under the name of harris fine and wearing false whiskers he was playing a program consisting principally of rabinowitz's concerto in g, opus number two fifty-six b, y'understand, they would come away saying it was awful rotten even for an amateur and that you should ought to hear kreisler play rabinowitz's concerto in g, opus number two fifty-six b, and then you would know how that feller harris fine murdered it. so that's why i say, abe, that advertised art comes under the head of merchandise, and i ain't so sure that the artist who advertises ain't just as much of a business man as we would say, for example, a fish-dealer." "well, there's one thing about this here trouble with the boston symphony orchestra, mawruss," abe said: "it has put boston on the map for a few days, which the way new york people is acting about electing a mayor in new york city, y'understand, you would think that new york, england, france, and italy was fighting germany and austria, and that if the mayor of new york said so, the war would go on or stop, as the case might be, and otherwise not." "you couldn't blame new york at that," morris said. "people out in seattle which has never been no nearer new york as fall city, wash., or snoqualmie, goes round singing 'take me back to new york town' _oder_ 'give my regards to broadway,' and young ladies living in saint louis, which is a good-sized city, y'understand, reads in a magazine printed in chicago--_also_ a good-sized city--story after story which has got to do with a wealthy new york clubman, or a poor new york working-girl, or a beautiful new york actress, while the advertising section has got pictures by the hundreds of automobiles, ready-made clothing, vacuum cleaners, beds and bedding, health underwear, and cash-registers, and all of them are fixed up with the grand central depot across the street or the public library showing through a window or, anyhow, the flatiron building and madison square garden not half a column away, y'understand. also there is a new york store in every village and a new york letter in every newspaper, and one way or another you would think that the whole united states was trying to prove to new york that it was as important as new york has for a long time already suspected." "well, ain't it?" abe asked. "it couldn't be," morris replied. "take, for instance, this here election for mayor, and the way the new york papers talked about it you would think the kaiser says to hindenberg: 'listen, max, don't ship no more soldiers nowheres till we hear how things are breaking for hillkowitz in new york,' or maybe he said mitchel or hylan--you couldn't tell, and hindenberg says, 'but i understand mitchel is pretty strong up in the twenty-third assembly district in certain parts of the bronix, so i think, chief, it might be a good idea to have a couple of dozen divisions of artillery sent to dvinsk and riga.' but the kaiser says: 'now do as i tell you, max. i got a wireless from mexico that hillkowitz will carry three hundred and nine out of four hundred and thirteen election districts in the borough of richmond alone.' and hindenberg says: 'where did they get _that_ dope? i tell you they don't know nothing but hylan down on staten island, and if you take _my_ advice, chief, you'll 'phone ludendorff to hold the siegfried line, the lohengrin line, the trovatore line, the travvyayter line, the bohemian girl line, and all the other lines from aïda to zampa, because in my opinion mitchel has a walk-over.'" "that's where they both made a mistake," abe commented, "because it was a landslide for hylan." "_yow_ they was mistaken," morris said. "do you suppose for one moment that the kaiser had got so much as an inkling that they were going to elect a mayor in new york? _oser!_ and with this here hindenberg, you could tell from the feller's face that for all he understands about the english language, abe, the word _mayor_ don't exist at all. as for the way they choose a mayor in america, that _grobe kerl_ couldn't tell you whether they _elect_ a mayor, _appoint_ a mayor, or _cut_ for a mayor--aces low. and that's the way it goes in new york, abe. they think that the whole of europe is watching with palpitations of the heart to see who is going to be elected mayor of new york, and they never stop to figure that there ain't six persons out of the six millions in new york which could tell you the name of the mayor of london, paris, berlin, vienna, st. petersburg, or, for that matter, yonkers or jersey city." "from the mayor which they finally chose in new york, mawruss," abe commented, "a feller needn't got to be so terribly ignorant as all that to suppose that not only did the people of new york, instead of voting for mayor, _cut_ for him, aces low, y'understand, but that they also turned up the ace." "they turned up what they wanted to turn up, abe," morris said, "which the way the people of new york city elects tammany hall every few years, abe, it makes you think that everybody should have a vote, except convicts, idiots, minors, indians not taxed, and people that live in new york city." x potash and perlmutter on revolutionizing the revolution business if kerensky would have had experience as a traveling salesman it wouldn't hurt him to be spending his entire time commuting between moscow and petersburg. "what they want to do in russland," abe potash declared, one morning in november, "is to have one last revolution, and stick _to_ it." "it ain't russia which is having them revolutions," morris perlmutter observed. "it's the russian revolutionists. them boys have been standing around doing nothing for years, abe, in fact ever since nineteen five, and now that they got a job they figure that why should they finish it up, because revolutionists' work is piece-work, and just so soon as a revolution is over, as a general thing, the revolutionists gets laid off--up against a wall at sunrise." "well, them boys is certainly nursing their job this time, mawruss," abe continued. "the way them fellers is acting up over there it wouldn't surprise me a bit if most of the russian merchants would move to mexico, so as they could carry on their business in peace and quietness, y'understand. what the idea of all these here revolutions is i don't know. they've got the czar living in a cold-water walk-up, and you could go the length and breadth of russia with a ballet-dancer as a decoy without running across so much as one grand duke peeking through the window-blinds, y'understand. so what more do them russians want?" "for one thing," morris explained, "the peasants insists that all the land in russland should be divided up between them." "what for?" abe asked. "they probably see a chance to get a little real estate free of charge," morris replied. "_aber_ what good would that do them?" abe said. "because in a country where revolutions is liable to happen every day in the week except saturdays from nine to twelve-thirty, y'understand, there ain't much market for real estate, and, besides, mawruss, if them poor peasants only knew what a dawg's life it is in the real-estate business, understand me, even when times is good, they would of got such _rachmonos_ for the czar with his twenty-two million five hundred and forty-three thousand two hundred and twenty-nine versts of unimproved property, that instead of getting up a revolution, they would of got up a meeting and passed resolutions of sympathy." "the chances is they would of done it, anyway, if it wouldn't been for this here kerensky," morris declared. "what that feller don't know about running a revolution, abe, if carranza, villa, and huerta would have known it, they would have had two years ago already a chain of five-and-ten-cent revolutions doing a good business all the way from the rio grande to cape horn. yes, abe, compared with a boss revolutionist like kerensky, y'understand, these here mexican revolutionists is just, so to speak, _learners_ on revolutionists." "then if that's the case, mawruss, how does it come that one after another, korniloff, lenine, and trotzky, practically puts this here kerensky out of business as a revolutionist?" abe asked. "well, i'll tell you," morris said. "a feller which is running a revolution in russland has not only got to got nerve, y'understand, but he's also got to be able to stand very long hours. also it is necessary for him to do a whole lot of traveling, because no sooner does such a feller set up his government in petersburg, y'understand, than the petersburg local number one of the amalgamated workingmen's and soldiers' union is liable to chase him and his government all the way to moscow, y'understand, and hardly does he get busy in moscow, understand me, than he gets in bad with the moscow local number one of the same union, and so on vice versa. in fact, in a couple of weeks he's liable to be vice-versad that way a half a dozen times, which if kerensky would have had experience as a traveling salesman, abe, it wouldn't hurt him to be practically spending his entire time commuting between moscow and petersburg, but before this here kerensky became a revolutionist he used to was in the law business, and besides he enjoys very poor health and is liable to die any moment." "what's the matter with him?" abe asked. "i understand he's got kidney trouble," morris replied. "well, if that feller would get an opportunity to die of kidney trouble, mawruss, he should ought to take advantage of it," abe commented, "because if you was to look up in the files of the petersburg department of health what is the figures on the cause of death in the case of revolutionists, mawruss, you would probably find something like this: explosions 91.31416% gun-shot wounds, including revolvers, air-rifles, machine-guns, cannons, armored tanks, torpedoes, and unclassified 8.99999 knife wounds, including razors, cold chisels, pickaxes, and cloth and grass cutting apparatus 0.563 natural causes, including hardening of the arteries a trace." "what do you mean--natural causes?" morris said. "when a revolutionist dies a natural death, it's a pure accident." "did i say it wasn't?" abe said. "but at the same time some russian revolutionists lives longer than others, because being a russian revolutionist is more or less a matter of training. take this here feller which is now conducting the russian revolution under the name of trotzky, and used to was conducting a new york trolley-car under the name of braunstein, y'understand, and when the time comes--which it _will_ come--when his offices will be surrounded by a mob of a hundred thousand russian working-men and soldiers, understand me, all that this here trotzky _alias_ braunstein will do is to shout '_fares, please_,' and he'll go through that crowd of working-men like a--well, like a new york trolley-car conductor going through a crowd of working-men." "from what is happening in mexico and russia," morris observed, "it seems that when a country gets a revolution on its hands it's like a feller with a boil on his neck. he's going to keep on having them until he gets 'em entirely out of his system." "well, russia has had such an awful siege of them," abe said, "that you would think she was immune by this time." "it's the freedom breaking out on her," morris said. "it seems, however," said abe, "that in russia there are as many kinds of freedom as there are fellers that want a job running a revolution. there was the kerensky brand of freedom which was quite popular for a while; then korniloff tried to market another brand of freedom and made a failure of it, and now trotzky and lenine are putting out the t. and l. brand of self-rising freedom in red packages, and seem to be doing quite a good business, too." "sure i know," morris agreed. "but you would think that freedom was freedom and that there could be no arguments about it, so why the devil do them poor russian working-men go on fighting each other, abe?" "they want an immediate peace with germany," abe said, "and the way it looks now, they would still be fighting each other for an immediate peace with germany ten years after the war is over, because if them russian working-men was to get an immediate peace _immediately_, mawruss, they would have to go to work again, and you know as well as i do, mawruss, the very last thing that a russian working-man thinks of, y'understand, is working." "well in a way, you couldn't blame the russians for what is going on in russland, abe," morris said. "for years already the socialists has been telling them poor _nebiches_ what a rotten time the working-men had _before_ the social revolution, y'understand, and what a good time the working-man is going to have _after_ the social revolution, understand me, but what kind of a time the working-man would have _during_ the social revolution, that the socialists left for them poor russians to find out for themselves, and when those working-men who come through it alive begin to figure the profit and loss on the transaction, abe, the whole past life of one of those socialist leaders is going to flash before his eyes just before the drop falls, y'understand, and one of his pleasantest recollections--if you can call recollections pleasant on such an occasion--will be the happy days he spent knocking down fares on the third and amsterdam avenue cars." "then i take it you 'ain't got a whole lot of sympathy for the socialists, mawruss," abe said. "not since when i was a greenhorn i used to work at buttonhole-making, and i heard a socialist feller on east houston street hollering that under a socialistic system the laborer would get the whole fruits of his labor," morris said. "pretty near all that night i lay awake figuring to myself that if i could make twelve buttonholes every ten minutes, which would be seventy-two buttonholes an hour or seven hundred and twenty buttonholes a day, abe, how many buttonholes would i have in a year under a socialistic system, and after i had them, what would i do with them? the consequence was, i overslept myself and came down late to the shop next morning, and it was more than two days before i found another job." "well, that ain't much of an argument against socialism," abe remarked. "not to most people it wouldn't be, but it was an awful good argument to me, and i really think it saved me from becoming a socialist," morris said. "you a socialist!" abe exclaimed. "how could a feller like you become a socialist? i belong to the same lodge with you now for ten years, and in all that time you've never had nerve enough to get up and say even so much as '_i second the motion_.'" "but there are two classes of socialists, abe--talkers and the listeners, and while i admit the talkers are in the big majority, the work of the listeners is just so important. they are the fellers which try out the ideas of the talkers, the only difference being that while such talkers as herr liebknecht and rosa luxembourg gets a lot of publicity out of going to jail for handing out socialistic ideas, y'understand, the funerals which the listeners get for trying such ideas out are very, very private." "at that, them talking socialists which is taking shifts with each other in running the russian government must be putting in a pretty busy time, mawruss, because there's a whole lot of detail to such a job, and while past experience as a street-car conductor may give the necessary endurance, it don't help out much when it comes to systematizing the day's work of a russian dictator. for instance, we would say that he goes into office at nine o'clock with the help of the one hundred and first kazan regiment, six companies of cossacks, and the tenth poltava separate company of machine-gunners. after making a socialistic address to the survivors he washes off the blood and puts on a clean collar, or, in the case of a bolsheviki dictator, he only washes off the blood. "the next thing on the program is to ring up a few flag and bunting concerns and ask for representatives to call about taking an order for a few national flags. they arrive half an hour later, and after making a socialistic address, y'understand, he picks out a design for immediate delivery, because even a few hours' delay will make a design for a russian national flag as big a sticker as a nineteen-ten-model runabout. "when he's got the flag off his mind he next interviews the russian composers, glazounow, borodine, arensky, and scriabine, and after making a socialistic address he invites them they should submit a new national anthem, the only requirements being that it should contain a reference to the fact that under the old competitive system the working-man did not receive the whole fruits of his labor, and that delivery should be made not later than twelve-thirty p.m. he then goes over to the mint to decide upon models for a new gold coinage and to confiscate as much of the old one as they have on hand. after making a socialistic address to the director of the mint and his staff, y'understand, he agrees that the old, clean-shaven kerensky designs shall be altered by adding whiskers, because you know as well as i do, mawruss, when it comes to the portrait on a gold coin, nobody is going to take it so particular about the likeness not being so good as long as it ain't plugged. "he then goes back to his office and prepares a socialistic address to be delivered to the duma, a socialistic address to be delivered to the army, and three or four more socialistic addresses with the names in blank for use in case of emergency," abe continued, "and so one way or another he is kept busy right up to the time when word comes that his successor has just left tsarskoe-seloe with the thirty-second nijni-novgorod infantry and a regiment composed of contingents from the ladies' aid society of the first universalist church of minsk, daughters of the revolution of nineteen five, the y.w.h.a., and the women's city club of odessa. twenty minutes later he is on board a boat bound for sweden, and after looking up the _ganeves_ in his state-room he comes up on deck and spends the rest of the trip making socialistic addresses to the crew, the passengers, and the cargo." "having to go and live in sweden ain't such a pleasant fate, neither," morris observed. "say!" abe exclaimed. "there's only one thing that a russian revolutionary dictator really and truly worries about." "what is that?" morris said. "losing his voice," abe said. xi potash and perlmutter discuss the sugar question one lump, or two, please? "ain't it terrible the way you couldn't buy no sugar in new york, nowadays, mawruss?" abe potash said, one morning in november. "let the people _not_ eat sugar," morris perlmutter declared. "these are war-times, abe." "suppose they are war-times," abe retorted, "must everybody act like they had diabetes? sugar is just so much a food as butter and milk and _gefullte rinderbrust_." "i know it is," morris agreed, "but most people eat it because it's sweet, and they like it." "then it's your idea that on account of the war people should eat only them foods which they don't like?" abe inquired. "that ain't _my_ idea, abe," morris protested; "i got it from reading letters to the editors written by pro bono publicos and other fellers which is taking advantage of the only opportunity they will ever have to figure in the newspapers outside of the births, marriages, and deaths, y'understand. them fellers all insist that until the war is over everything in the way of sweetening should be left out of american life, and some of 'em even go so far as to claim that we should ought to swear off pepper and salt also. their idea is that until we lick the germans the american people should leave off going to the theayter, riding in automobiles, playing golluf, baseball, and auction pinochle, and reading magazines and story-books, y'understand. in fact, they say that the american people should devote themselves to their business, but what business the fellers which is in the show business, the automobile business, and the magazine-publishing business should devote themselves to don't seem to of occurred to these here pro bono publicos at all." "i guess them newspaper-letter writers which is trying to beat out their own funeral notices must of got their dope from this here frank j. vanderlip," abe commented, "which i read it somewheres that he comes out with a brogan that a dollar spent for unnecessary things is an unpatriotic dollar." "sure, i know," morris said, "but he left it to the spender's judgment as to what was necessary and what was unnecessary, abe, which even president wilson himself finds it necessary once in a while to go to a theayter in order to forget the way them pro bono publicos is nagging at him, morning, noon, and night." "but the country must got to get very busy if we expect to win, mawruss," abe said, "and them pro bonos thinks it's up to them to make the people realize what a serious proposition we've got on our hands." "that's all right, too," morris agreed, "but it would be a whole lot more serious if the people become _meshuggah_ from melancholia before we got half-way through with the war. even when times is prosperous only a very few of the _leute_ takes more amusement than is necessary for 'em, abe, and that's why i say that this here frank j. vanderlip knew what he was talking about when he didn't say what things was unnecessary. for instance, abe, if a pro bono publico, on account of the war, cuts out taking a summer vacation for a couple of hundred dollars, and in consequence gets a breakdown from overwork and has to spend five hundred dollars for doctor bills, all you've got to do is to strike a balance and you can see for yourself that he has spent three hundred unnecessary unpatriotic dollars." "well, doctors has got to have money to buy liberty bonds with the same like anybody else, mawruss," abe commented. "i know they have," morris agreed, "and that's why i say the great mistake which these here pro bonos makes is that the war is going to be fought only with the money which is saved, whereas if them boys had any experience collecting for an orphan asylum or a hospital, abe, they would know that it ain't the tight-wads which come across. yes, abe, you could take it from me, the very people which is cutting out theayters, automobile rides, and auction pinochle for the duration of the war would think twice before they invest the money they save that way in anything which don't bear interest at the rate of six per cent. per annum." "you may be right, mawruss," abe said, "but arguments about how to finance the war is like double-faced twelve-inch phonograph records. there's a good deal to be said on both sides, which it looks like a dead open-and-shut proposition to me that people couldn't buy no liberty bonds with the money they spend for theayter tickets." "but the feller which runs the theayter could, and he must also got to pay the government a tax on the money which he gets that way," morris retorted. "but how about the money which the theayter-owner must got to pay in wages to actors, play-writers, ushers, and the _rosher_ which sells tickets in the box-office?" abe argued. "well, how are all them loafers going to buy liberty bonds if they wouldn't get their money that way?" morris asked. "so you see how it is, abe: the feller which saves all his money for the duration of the war ain't such a big _tzaddik_ as you would think, because even if he invests the whole thing in liberty bonds, which he ain't likely to do, all he gets for his money is liberty bonds, and at the same time he is helping to ruin a lot of business men and throw their employees out of their jobs, and incidentally he is also doing the best he knows how to make the whole country sick and tired of the war. _aber_ you take one of them fellers which goes once in a while to the theayter for the duration of the war, y'understand, and indirectly he is handing the government just so much money as the tight-wad, the only difference being that the government ain't paying him no interest on it, and he is also helping to keep the show business going and to pay the wages of the actors and all them other low-lives which makes a living out of the show business." "sure, i know," abe said. "but how is the government going to get men for the ammunition-factories if they are busy making automobiles for joy-riding _oder_ fooling away their time as actors, mawruss?" "that is up to the government and not to the pro bono publicos," morris declared, "which if the theayters has got to be closed, abe, i would a whole lot sooner have it done by the government as by a bunch of pro bono publicos, which not only never goes to the theayter _anyway_, but also gets more pleasure from seeing their foolishness printed in the newspaper than you or i would from seeing the follies of nineteen seventeen to nineteen fifty inclusive." "well, i'll tell you, mawruss," abe said, "admitting that all which you say is true, y'understand, i seen a whole lot of fellers which is working as actors during the past few years, mawruss, and with the exception of six, may be, it would _oser_ do the show business any harm _if_ them fellers was to become operators on pants, let alone ammunition. it's the same way with the automobile business also. if seventy-five per cent. of the people which runs automobiles was compelled to give them up to-morrow, mawruss, the thing they would miss most of all would be the bills from the repair-shop robbers. so that's the way it goes, mawruss. it don't make no difference what a pro bono publico writes to the newspaper, y'understand, he couldn't do a hundredth part as much to make people cut out going to the theayter for the duration of the war as the feller in the show business does when he puts on a rotten show. also mr. vanderlip has got a good line of talk about americans acting economical, y'understand, but he's practically encouraging the people that they should throw away their money left and right on automobiles, compared to some of them automobile-manufacturers which depends upon their repair departments for their profits." "i understand that right now, abe, the automobile business is falling off something terrible," morris continued, "and the show business also." "sure it is," abe said, "because so soon as the government put taxes on theayter tickets and automobiles, mawruss, the people was bound to figure it out that it was bad enough they should got to pay taxes on their assets without being soaked ten per cent. on their liabilities also. and if i would be a pro bono publico which, _gott sei dank_, i couldn't write good enough english to break into the newspapers, mawruss, the argument i would make is that people should leave off being suckers for the duration of the war, and the whole matter of spending money foolishly on theayter tickets and automobiles would adjust itself without any assistance from the government, y'understand." "well, everything else failing, them automobile-dealers and theayter-owners could get up a war bazaar for themselves," morris suggested, "which i seen it the other day in the papers where they run off a war bazaar in new york and raised over seventy thousand dollars for some fellers in the advertising business." "has the advertising business also been affected by the war?" abe asked. "the business of _some_ advertising agents has," replied morris, "which it seems that the standard rates for advertising agents who solicited advertisements for war-bazaar programs was any sum realized by the bazaar over and above one-tenth of one per cent. of the net proceeds, which the advertising men agreed should be devoted to wounded american soldiers or starving belgiums, according to the name of the bazaar." "maybe them advertising agents earned their money at that, mawruss," abe said, "which the average advertising solicitor would need to do a whole lot of talking before he could convince me that an advertisement in a war-bazaar program has got any draught to speak about, because you take a feller in the pants business, y'understand, and if he would get an order for one-twelfth dozen pants out of all the advertisements which he would stick in war-bazaar programs from the beginning of the war up to the time when running a war bazaar first offense is going to be the equivalence of not less than from five to ten years, understand me, it would be big already." "at the same time," morris protested, "if people is foolish enough to blow in their money advertising by war-bazaar programs, abe, it don't seem unreasonable to me that the advertising agents and the starving belgiums should go fifty-fifty on the proceeds, and the way it looks now, abe, the new york grand jury is going to agree with me after they get through investigating the bills for advertising in connection with the army and navy bazaars." "sure, i know," abe agreed. "but why should the grand jury investigate only the advertising? why don't a grand-juryman for once in his life do a little something to earn his salary and investigate what becomes of the articles which young ladies sells chances on at war bazaars? it would also be a slight satisfaction for them easy marks which contributes merchandise to a war bazaar if the grand jury could send out tracers after the goods which remained in stock when the bazaar was officially declared closed by the parties named in the indictment." "what do you think--a new york grand jury has got nothing else to investigate for the rest of the twentieth century except one war bazaar?" morris inquired. "the way you talk you would think that they had nothing better to do with their time than the people which goes to war bazaars, which the reason why them advertising men went wrong was that they were practically encouraged to run crooked war bazaars by the hundreds of thousands of people who wouldn't loosen up for charity unless they could get something for their money besides the good they are doing." "well, that only goes to show how one minute you argue one way, and the next you say something entirely different again," abe said. "is that so?" morris exclaimed. "well, so far as i could see, abe, you ain't on a strict diet, neither, when it comes to eating your own words." "maybe i ain't," abe admitted, "but it seems to me that people might just so well pass on their money to the red cross through war bazaars as pass it on to the government through buying theayter tickets the way you argued a few minutes since." "the red cross is one thing and the government another," morris retorted. "if people spend money at a war bazaar maybe one per cent. of it reaches the red cross and maybe it don't, whereas if they spend at a theayter, the government gets ten per cent. net, and the transaction 'ain't got to be audited by the grand jury, neither." "then you ain't in favor that people should give their money to the red cross?" abe said. "_gott soll huten!_" morris cried. "people should give all they could to the red cross and the government also, but while they are doing it, abe, it ain't no more necessary that they should encourage a crooked advertising agent as that they should ruin a hard-working feller in the show business. am i right or wrong?" xii potash and perlmutter discuss how to put the spurt in the expert "when does the shipping commission expect to begin shipments on those ships?" abe potash asked, as he laid down the morning paper a few days after thanksgiving. "i don't know," morris perlmutter replied. "the way the newspapers was talking last april, abe, it looked like by the first of september our production would be so far ahead of our orders for ships that president wilson would have to organize a special department to handle the cancellations, y'understand, but from what i could see now, abe, by next spring the nearest them shipping commission fellers will have come to deliveries on ships is that this here hurley will be getting writer's cramp from signing letters to the attorneys for the people which ordered ships that in reply to your favor of the tenth inst. would say that we expect to ship the ships not later than july first at the latest, and oblige." "but i thought that even before we went to war with germany, mawruss, a couple of inventors made it an invention of a ship which could be built of yellow pine in ninety days net." "sure, i know," morris said. "but the shipping commission couldn't make up their minds whether them yellow-pine ships would be any good even after they _were_ built, on account some professional experts claimed that yellow pine shrinks in water to the extent of .00031416 milliegrams to the kilowatt-hour, or .000000001 per cent., and other professional experts said, '_yow_ .00031416 milliegrams!' and that .00000031416 would be big already, and that also what them first experts didn't know from the shrinkage of yellow pine, understand me." "well, why didn't the shipping commission build a sample ship from yellow pine?" abe suggested. "it's already nine months since the war started, and by this time such a ship could have been in the water long enough for them shipping commission fellers to judge which experts was right." "and suppose she did shrink a little," morris said, "she could have been anyhow disposed of '_as is_' to somebody who didn't take it so particular to the fraction of an inch how much yellow pine he gets in a yellow-pine ship." "i give you right, mawruss," abe agreed, "but then, you see, an idee like that would never occur to a professional expert, mawruss, because it has the one big objection that it might prove the other experts was right when they didn't agree with him, which that is the trouble with professional experts. the important thing to them ain't so much the articles on which they experts, as what big experts they are on such articles. "take this here lewis machine-gun, mawruss," abe continued, "and when colonel lewis puts it up to the army experts, y'understand, naturally them experts says, 'well, if we are such big experts on machine-guns, we should ought to know a whole lot more about machine-guns as colonel lewis, and what does that _schlemiel_ know about machine-guns, _anyway_?' so they sent colonel lewis a notice that they would not be responsible for goods left over thirty days, and the consequence was colonel lewis sold his machine-gun to the english army." "and he didn't have to be such a cracker-jack high-grade a-number-one salesman to do that, neither," morris commented, "because if his only talking point to the english experts was that the american experts had turned down his gun, y'understand, the english experts would give him a big order without even asking him to unpack his samples." "sure, i know," abe said. "but if colonel lewis would of had the interests of america at heart, mawruss, he should ought to have offered his machine-gun to the english experts first, understand me, and after he had got out of the observation ward, which the english experts would just naturally send him to as a dangerous american crank with a foolish idea for a machine-gun, y'understand, the american experts would have taken his entire output at his own terms." [illustration: "'well, if we are such big experts on machine-guns, we should ought to know a whole lot more about machine-guns as colonel lewis, and what does that _schlemiel_ know about machine-guns, _anyway_?'"] "after all, you can't kick about such mistakes being made, because that's the trouble about being a new beginner in any business," morris said. "it don't make no difference whether it would be war or pants, abe, you start out with one big liability, and that is the advice proposition. twice as many new beginners goes under from accepting what they thought was good advice as from accepting what they thought was good accounts, abe, and them fellers on the shipping commission deserves a great deal of credit that they already made such fine progress. you can just imagine what this here hurley which he used to was in the railroad business must be up against from his friends which has been in the ship-building business for years already. the chance is that every time mr. hurley goes out on the street one of them old ship-building friends comes up to him with that good-advice expression on his face and says: '_nu_, hurley. how are they coming?' which it don't make a bit of difference to such a feller whether mr. hurley would say, '_so, so_,' '_pretty good_,' or '_rotten_,' y'understand, he might just as well save his breath, on account the good-advice feller is going to get it off his chest, anyhow. "'you're lucky at that,' the good-advice feller says, 'because i just met your assistant designer, jake rashkin, and he tells me you are getting out a line of whalebacks in pastel shades.' "'well, why not?' hurley says. "'why not!' the friend exclaims. 'you mean to tell me that you don't know even that much about the ship-building business, that you would actually go to work and make up for the fall trade a line of whalebacks in pastel shades? honestly, hurley, i must say i am surprised at you.' and for the next twenty minutes he gives hurley the names and dates of six voluntary bankrupts, all of whom started in the ship-building business by making up a line of whalebacks in pastel shades, together with the details of just what them fellers is doing for a living to-day from selling cigars on commission downwards. "naturally, hurley hustles right back to the shop and tells the foreman that if they 'ain't already started on that last batch of whalebacks in pastel shades, not to mind, and he spends the rest of the afternoon getting his operators busy on a couple of hundred oil-burning boats in solid colors, like reds, greens, and blues. the consequence is that the next day at lunch another old friend comes up to him, which used to was in the ship-building business when the record from new york to liverpool was nineteen days ten hours and forty-five minutes, y'understand, and says: '_nu_, hurley. how is the busy little ship-builder to-day?' "'pretty good,' hurley says. 'i'm just getting to work on a big line of oil-burners in solid colors, like reds, greens, and blues.' "'no!' the old ship-builder says. "'sure!' hurley tells him, and after they have said 'no!' and 'sure!' a couple of dozen times it appears that if a new beginner in the ship-building business lays in a stock of plain-colored oil-burning boats he might just so well kiss himself good-by with his ship-building business and be done with it. also it seems that the only line of goods for a new beginner in the ship-building business to specialize in is whalebacks in pastel shades, abe, and that's the way it goes." "at that we're a whole lot better off as england was when she started in as a new beginner in the war business," abe commented. "mr. hurley was, anyhow, in the railroad business when he took over the ship-building job, and we've got other men which were high-grade dry-goods and hardware men before they threw up their business to help the government branch out into the war business, y'understand, but if we would got to depend on somebody who was trying to run a shipyard with the experience he had got from being national lawn-tennis champion for the years nineteen hundred to nineteen sixteen inclusive, or if president wilson had the idee that for a man to be the right man in the right place, y'understand, he should ought to have the gumption and business ability which a feller naturally picks up in the course of being an earl or a duke, understand me, the best we could hope for would be a fleet of six rebuilt tugboats by the fall of nineteen fifty." "it wasn't england's fault that she made such a mistake, abe," morris said. "up to the time germany started this war it used to was considered that if nations did got to go to war, y'understand, the best way to go about it was to put it in charge of a good sport like a tennis champion would naturally have to be, and as for the earls and the dukes, the theory on which them fellers fooled away their time was that they was just resting up between wars, abe, because they was, anyhow, gentlemen, and it was england's idea that all a soldier had to be was a gentleman. but nowadays that's already a thing of the past. the way germany fixed things with her long-distance cannons, her liquid fire, gas, and zeppelins, a soldier don't have to be so much of a gentleman as an inventor, a chemist, an engineer, and a general all-around hustler." "in fact, mawruss," abe said, "a german soldier don't need to be a gentleman at all, because when it comes to stealing château furniture, destroying cathedrals, burning houses, and chopping down fruit-trees, any experience as a gentleman wouldn't be much of a help to a german soldier." "that's what i am telling you, abe," morris declared. "germany has made war a business, y'understand, and she figures that a gentleman in the war business is like a gentleman in the pants business. he ain't going to make any more or better pants by being a gentleman, y'understand, and if we are going to win this war, abe, we should ought to stop beefing about german soldiers not being gentlemen, and take into consideration the fact that while german engineers, chemists, inventors, and submarine-builders may not know whether you play lawn tennis with a cue, mallet, or a full deck of fifty-two cards including the joker, abe, you can bet your life that they know an awful lot about engineering, chemistry, and building submarines, and they don't need no so-called experts to help them, neither." "and you can also bet your life, mawruss, that no german would have turned down colonel lewis's machine-guns," abe said, "the way them experts of ours did." "well, what is an expert to do, abe?" morris asked. "if he goes to work and recommends the government to give an inventor an order for his invention, he's taking a big chance that the invention wouldn't work, and you know as well as i do, abe, most american experts play in terrible hard luck. you take these here military experts which gives expert opinions in the newspapers about what is going to happen next on the balkan front, y'understand, and a feller could make quite a reputation as a military expert by simply coppering their predictions." "well, them military experts which writes in the newspapers ain't really experts at all, mawruss," abe said. "they're just crickets, like them musical crickets which knows everything there is to know about, we would say, for example, playing on the fiddle excepting how to play on the fiddle." "_aber_ what is the difference between a professional expert and a professional cricket, _anyway_?" morris asked. "a professional expert is a feller which thinks he knows all about a business because he tried for years and he never could make a success of it," abe replied, "whereas a professional cricket is a feller which thinks he knows all about a business because he tried for years and he could never even break into it." "and how could you expect to get from people like that an opinion which ain't on the bias?" morris concluded. xiii potash and perlmutter on being an optician and looking on the bright side "yes, mawruss," abe potash said as he laid down the morning paper after glancing over the alarming head-lines, "a feller which has got stomach trouble or the toothache nowadays is playing in luck, because when you've got stomach trouble you couldn't think about nothing else, and what is a little thing like stomach trouble to worry over with all the _tzuris_ which is happening in the world nowadays?" "well, then _have_ stomach trouble," morris perlmutter advised. "what do you mean--_have_ stomach trouble?" abe said. "a man couldn't get stomach trouble the same way he could get drunk, mawruss. it is something which is just so much beyond your control as red hair or a good tenor voice." "sure, i know," morris agreed. "but what is happening in russia and italy is also beyond your control, abe, so if them bolsheviki is getting on your nerves, and you hate to pick up the paper for fear of finding that the germans would have captured venice, understand me, console yourself with the idee that there's a lot of brainy fellers in this country which is doing all they know how to handle the situation over in the old country, and then if you want something near at home to worry about like stomach trouble, y'understand, there's plenty of misfortunate people in orphan asylums and hospitals right here in new york city which will be very glad to have you worry over them in a practical way out of what you've got left when you're through paying income and excise profit taxes, abe." "maybe there is some people which would get so upset over having to give twenty dollars or so to an orphan asylum or a hospital, mawruss, that for the time being they could forget how general crozier 'ain't ordered the machine-guns yet," abe said, "but me i ain't built that way. when it says in the papers where the germans is sending all their soldiers away from the russian front to the italian front, y'understand, it may be that some people could read it and try not to worry by sending five dollars to them highwaymen for improving the condition of the poor, mawruss, but when _i_ read it, mawruss, i think how it's all up to them bolsheviki in russia, and i get awful sore at the poor--in especially the russian poor." "what are you worrying your head about what they put in the papers?" morris asked. "seventy-five per cent. of the bridge-heads which the germans capture in the new york morning papers might just so well be french villages, except that the reporters would have to look up the names of the villages on the map, because some editors are very particular that way; they insist that the reporter should use the name of a real village, whereas if he puts down that the germans has captured a bridge-head on the piave river he could go right out to lunch, and he never even stops to think that if somebody would check up the number of bridge-heads which the germans has captured that way in the new york morning papers, abe, the piave river would got to be covered solid with bridges from end to end." "but i am just so bad as a reporter, mawruss--i never stop to think that, neither," abe admitted. "it's my nature that i couldn't help believing the foolishness which i read in the papers, and if the germans capture a bridge-head on me in the sporting edition with final wall street complete they might just so well capture it in italy and be done with it, because if i play cards afterward i couldn't keep my mind on the game, anyhow. only last sunday i had a three-hundred-and-fifty hand in spades, with an extra ace and king, understand me, when i happened to think about reading in the paper where the germans is going to build for next spring submarines in extra sized six hundred feet long, y'understand, and the consequence was i forget to meld a twenty in clubs and lost the hand by eighteen points. before i fell asleep that night i thought it over that germany couldn't build such a big submarine as the papers claimed, but by that time i was out three dollars on the hand, _anyway_, and that's the way war affects _me_, mawruss." "well, that's where you are making a big mistake, abe," morris commented, "because even when the articles which they print in the newspaper is true, y'understand, if you only stop to figure them out right, abe, you could get a whole lot of encouragement that way. take, for instance, when you read _via_ amsterdam that general hindenberg is now commanding the western front, abe, and with some people that would throw a big scare into 'em, y'understand, but with me not, abe, because the way i look at it is from experience. i've known lots of fellers from seventy to seventy-five years old, abe, and in particular my wife's mother's a brother old man baum in the cotton-converting business. there's a feller which he actually went to work and married his stenographer when he was seventy-two, abe, and, compared to an undertaking like that, running the western front would be child's play, abe, and yet when all was said and done, if he went to theayter saturday night and eats afterward a little chicken _à la_ king, y'understand, it was a case of ringing up a doctor at three o'clock sunday morning while his wife's relations sat around his flat figuring the inheritance tax. now, take hindenberg which he is six months older as old man baum, abe, and what that feller has went through in the last three years two lifetimes in the cotton-converting business wouldn't be a marker to it, understand me, and still there are people which is worried that when he begins to run things on the western front, it is going to be a serious matter for the allies, instead of the germans. "yes, abe," morris continued, "with all the things them germans has got to attend to on the western front, it's no cinch to have on their hands an old man seventy-two years of age, which, if anything should happen to the old _rosher_, like acute indigestion from eating too much gruel or lumbago, y'understand, then real generals on the western front would never hear the end of it." "ain't hindenberg also a real general?" abe asked. "not an old man like that, abe," morris replied. "he used to was a real general, but now he is just a mascot for the germans and a bogey man for us, which i bet yer the most that feller does to help along the war is to wear warm woolen underwear, keep out of draughts, and not get his feet wet under any circumstances at his age. furthermore, abe, i ain't so sure that the germans is withdrawing so many soldiers as they claim from the russian frontier, neither, y'understand, because the way them bolsheviki has swung around to germany must sound to the kaiser almost too good to be true, and i bet yer also he figures that maybe it isn't because nobody knows better as the kaiser how much reliance you could place on a deal between one country and another, even when it's in writing and signed by the party to be charged, which, for all any one could tell, whether russia is now a government, a co-partnership, a corporation, or only so to speak a voluntary association, abe, the kaiser might just as well sign his peace treaty with pavlowa and nordkin as with lenine and trotzky, so far as binding the russian people is concerned." "it ain't a peace treaty which them fellers wants to sign, mawruss," abe said. "it's a bill of sale, which i see that lenine and trotzky agrees germany should import goods into russia free of duty and that she should take russian poland and courland and a lot of other territory, and if that's what is called making peace, mawruss, then you might just as well say that a lawsuit is compromised by allowing the feller which sues to get a judgment and have the sheriff collect on it." "and at that, abe," morris said, "there ain't a german merchant which wouldn't be only too delighted to swap his rights to import goods into russia free of duty _after the war_ for three-quarters of a pound of porterhouse steak and a ten-cent loaf of white bread right now, which the way food is so scarce nowadays in germany, abe, when a berlin business man's family gets through with the sunday dinner, and the servant-girl clears off the table, there's no use asking should she give the bones to the dog, because the chances is they _are_ the dog, understand me. as for sugar, we think we've got a kick coming when we could only get two teaspoonfuls to a cup of coffee for five cents, y'understand, whereas in germany they would consider themselves lucky if they could get two teaspoonfuls to a gallon of coffee if they had a gallon of coffee in the entire country, understand me. so that's the way it goes in germany, abe; the people ask for bread and they give 'em a report on norwegian steamers sunk by u-boats during the current week, and if one of the steamers was loaded with sugar, y'understand, that ain't going to be much satisfaction to a german which has got a sweet tooth and has been trying to make out with one two-grain saccharin tablet every forty-eight hours, neither." "but the germans seems to be making a lot of progress everywheres," abe said. "except at home," morris declared. "maybe the german people still feels encouraged when the german army gets ahold of more territory, abe, but it's a question of a short time now when the german people is going to realize that they don't need no more room to starve in than they've got at present, and that a nation can go broke just as comfortably in nine hundred thousand square miles as it can in nine million square miles." "sure, i know," abe agreed, "but one thing germany has fixed already, mawruss, and that is that she is going to get a whole lot of customers in russia." "well, if she does," morris commented, "she'll have to provide the capital to set them customers up in business, and after she has done that, abe, she will have to hustle around to drum up trade for them russian customers, because when the bolsheviki get through with their fine work in russia, abe, the russian people won't have enough purchasing power to make it a fair territory for a salesman with a line of five-and-ten-cent store supplies. so if germany started this here war to get more trade, she's already licked." "then what does she go on fighting for?" abe asked. "it seems to me that if we saw we couldn't accomplish nothing by going on fighting, mawruss, we'd stop, ain't it?" "sure we would," morris agreed. "but then, abe, we 'ain't got nothing to stop us from stopping, because we ain't fighting for the sake of fighting, the way von tirpitz, mackensen, and ludendorff are doing. take, for instance, von tirpitz, and that _rosher_ insists that the u-boats is going to win the war, so it don't make no difference to him how many german sailors goes down in u-boats, he's going to keep on sending out u-boats right up to the time the german people shoots him, and his last words will be that the reason why the u-boats didn't win the war was because they didn't have a fair trial. then there's mackensen and ludendorff which they've got _their_ idees about how the war should be won, and they mean to see that their idees continue to have a fair trial till there ain't enough german soldiers alive to give them idees a fair trial, and that's the way it goes, abe. all the idees that we want to give a fair trial is that we are going to keep on fighting till we've proved to the german people that it don't pay to back up the von tirpitz, ludendorff, and mackensen idees." "and how long is this going to take?" abe inquired. "not so long as you think, abe," morris replied, "because germany may have made peace with russia, but she has still got fighting against her england, france, italy, america, starvation, bad business, conceit, lies, and stubbornness." "and in the mean time, mawruss," abe said, "what's going to happen to us?" "don't worry about us," morris said. "all america has got to do is to try to be an optician and look on the bright side of things, and she's bound to win out in the end." xiv the liquor question--shall it be dry or extra dry? light wines don't harm an awful lot of people, for the same reason that there ain't much pneumonia caused by people getting damp from using finger-bowls. "yes, mawruss," abe potash said, the day after the prohibition amendment was adopted by the house of representatives, "there's a lot of people going around taking credit for this here prohibition which in reality is living examples of the terrible effects not drinking schnapps has on the human race--suppose any one wanted to argue that way--whereas if you was to put the people wise which is actually responsible for the country going dry, y'understand, they would be too indignant to call you a liar before they could hit you with anything that lay most handy behind the bar from an ice-pick to an empty bottle, understand me." "i always had an idea myself that what was responsible for prohibition, abe, was that the people is sore at booze," morris perlmutter retorted. "sure, i know," abe said. "but the people would be just so sore at candy if the fellers which runs candy-stores acted the way saloon-keepers does, which you take a feller like this here huyler, or one of the smiths in the cough-drop business, and we would say his name is harris fine, y'understand, and instead of attending to the store and poisining people mit candy, he goes to work to get up the harris fine association and gives all the eighteen-dollar-a-week policemen in the neighborhood to understand that it's equivalent to ten dollars in their pockets if they wouldn't take it so particular when members of the harris fine association commits a little thing like murder or something, _verstehst du mich_, why the people in the same block which wasn't members of the harris fine association would begin to think that candy was getting to have a bad influence on the neighborhood, y'understand. then if harris fine was to run for alderman and all the loafers of the eighth ward or whatever ward he was alderman of was to meet in the back room of his candy-store, mawruss, the respectable _leute_ which couldn't go past harris fine's candy-store without hearing somebody talking rotten language would go home and say that it was a shame and a disgrace that the eighth ward should got to have candy-stores in it. afterward when he has been an alderman for some time, mawruss, and harris fine begins to make a fortune out of the garbage-removal contracts by not removing garbage, y'understand, and also as a side line to candy and ice-cream soda, does an elegant business in asphalt-paving which contains one-tenth of one per cent. asphalt, y'understand, the bad reputation which candy has got it in the eighth ward is going to spread throughout the city, mawruss, and finally, when the candy feller starts in to make contracts for state roads, candy gets a black eye in the state also, and it's only a question of time before the candy-dealer would go to washington and put over a rotten deal on the national government, understand me, and then people like you and me which never touches so much as a little piece of peanut-brittle, mawruss, starts right in and hollers for the national prohibition of all kinds of candy from gum-drops to mixed chocolates and bum-bums at a dollar and a half a pound." "you may be right, abe," morris said, "but when it comes right down to bright's disease and charoses of the liver, y'understand, politics 'ain't got nothing to do with it, because it doesn't make no difference to whisky whether a feller voted for wilson _oder_ hughes. it would just as lieve ruin the health and prospects of a republican as a democrat." "whisky might," abe admitted, "but how about beer and light wines, mawruss, which you know as well as i do, mawruss, a loafer must got to drink an awful lot of beer before he gets drunk." "well, that's what makes the brewery business good, abe," morris said. "but don't you think in a great number of cases, mawruss, beer is drunk to squench thirst?" abe asked. "that's the way it's drunk in a great number of cases--twenty-four bottles to the case," morris said; "but if the same people was to drink water the way they drink beer, abe, instead of thirst you would think it was goldfish that troubled them, which i can get as thirsty as the next one, abe, but i can usually manage to squench it without making an aquarium out of myself exactly." "_aber_ what about light wines?" abe inquired. "they don't harm an awful lot of people, mawruss." "they don't harm an awful lot of people for the same reason that there ain't much pneumonia caused by people getting damp from using finger-bowls, abe," morris said, "because so far as i could see the american people feels the same way about light wines as they do about finger-bowls. they could use 'em and they could let 'em alone, and they feel a whole lot more comfortable when they're letting 'em alone than when they're using 'em." "well, i'll tell you, mawruss," abe said, "i think a great many people which is prejudiced against light wines on account of heartburn is laying it to the wine instead of the seventy-five-cent italian table-d'hôte dinner which goes with it." "yes, and it's just as likely to be the cocktail which went before it as the glass of brandy which came after it, and that's the trouble with beer and light wine, abe," morris declared. "they usually ain't the only numbers on the program, and the feller which starts in on beer and light wines, abe, soon gets such a big repertoire of drinks that he's performing on the bottle day and night, y'understand, which saloon-keepers knows better than anybody else, abe, because if you would ask a saloon-keeper _oder_ a bartender to have something, y'understand, it's a hundred-to-one proposition that he takes a cigar and not a glass beer." "sure, i know," abe agreed. "but once a bartender draws a glass beer, before he could use it again, he's got to mark off so much for deteriorating that it's practically a total loss, whereas he could always put a cigar back in the case and sell it to somebody else for full price in the usual course of business." "well, that's what makes the saloon business a swindle and not a business, abe," morris said. "just imagine, abe, if you and me, as women's outer-garment manufacturers, was to lay in a line of ready-made men's overcoats in the expectation that after a customer has bought from us a big order he is going to blow me to a forty regular and you to a forty-four stout which we would put right back in stock as soon as his back is turned." "but even if the liquor business would be a dirty business, mawruss," abe said, "you've got to consider that there's a whole lot of people which is making a living out of it, like bartenders and fellers working in distilleries, and if they get thrown out of work, y'understand, their wives and children is going to be just as hungry as if the fellers lost their jobs in a respectable business like pants or plumbers' supplies." "say," morris exclaimed, "if you're going to have sympathy for people which would get thrown out of jobs by prohibition, abe, don't use it all up on bartenders and fellers working in distilleries, because there's a whole lot of other crooks whose families are going to be short of spending-money when liquor-selling stops. take them boys which is running poker-rooms, faro-games, and roulette-wheels, and alcohol is just as necessary to their operation as ether is to a stomach specialist's, because the human bank-roll is the same as the human appendix, abe: the success of removing it entirely depends on the giving of the anesthetic. then there is the lawyers--criminal, accident, and divorce--and it don't make no difference how their clients fell or what they fell from--positions in banks, moving street-cars, or as nice a little woman as any one could wish for, y'understand--schnapps done it, abe, and when schnapps goes, abe, the practice of them lawyers goes with it." "well, they still got their diplomas, mawruss," abe said. "and even though schnapps is prohibited, mawruss, there will be enough people left with the real-estate habit to give them shysters a living, anyhow, but you take them fellers which has got millions of dollars invested in machinery for the manufacture of headache medicine, mawruss, and before they will be able to figure out how they can use their plants for the manufacture of war supplies they're going to be their own best customers, which little did them fellers think when they put on their bottles, * * * keep in a dry place well corked * * * that people was going to take them so seriously as to put 'em right out of business, y'understand." "but there's also a large number of people which is going to lose their jobs on account of this here prohibition, abe, and if they get the sympathy of these american sitsons which is laying awake nights worrying about how the czar is getting along, abe, it would be big already. i am talking about the temperance lecturers," morris declared, "which if it wouldn't be for them fellers pretty near convincing everybody that no one could be happy and sober at the same time, abe, it's my idee that we would of had this here prohibition _sohon_ long since ago already, because those temperance lecturers got their arguments against drinking schnapps so mixed up with sunday baseball, playing billiards, and going to theayters, picture-galleries, and libraries on sunday, abe, that some people which visits new york from small towns in the middle west still hesitates about going to the metropolitan museum of art for fear of getting a hobnailed liver or something." "at that, mawruss, this here prohibition is going to hurt some businesses like the jewelry business," abe said, "which not counting the millions of carats that fellers has bought to square themselves for coming home at all hours of the night, y'understand, there's many a bar pin which would still be in stock if the customer hadn't nerved himself to buying it with a couple of cocktails, understand me. automobiles is the same way, mawruss, and if the engineering department of the big automobile concerns is now busy on the problem of making alcohol a substitute for gasolene, mawruss, you can bet your life that the sales department is just as busy trying to find out something which will be a substitute for alcohol, because when a feller has made up his mind to buy a five-passenger touring-car, mawruss, there ain't many automobile salesmen which could wish a seven-passenger limousine on him by working him with a couple of cups coffee, y'understand." "then there is the show business," morris observed, "and while i don't mean to say that this here prohibition is going to have any effect on them miserable plays where the girl saves the family at eight-forty-five by marrying the millionaire and discovers at ten-forty-five that she loves him just as much as if he hadn't any rating, so that the show can get out at eleven-five, y'understand, but when enough states has adopted the prohibition amendment to pull it into effect, abe, the midnight follies as a business proposition will be in a class with bar fixtures and mass-kerseno cherries." "well, so far as i'm concerned, any show that starts in at twelve o'clock would always have to get along without _my_ trade, prohibition or no prohibition," abe commented, "even though i could enjoy it on nothing stronger than malted milk." "which you couldn't," morris added, "and there's why the midnight follies wouldn't last, because not only is this here prohibition going to kill schnapps, abe, but it is also going to drive off the market for all articles the demand for which contains more than one per cent. alcohol." "and believe me, mawruss," abe concluded, "no decent, respectable man is going to miss such articles, neither." xv potash and perlmutter on peace with victory and without brokers, either "an offer is anyhow an offer, even if it is turned down, mawruss," abe potash said, the day after germany proposed terms of peace, "which that time i sold harris immerglick them lots in brownsville, mawruss, the first proposition he made me i pretty near threw him down the freight-elevator shaft, and when we finally closed the deal i couldn't tell exactly how much i made on them lots--figuring what i paid in taxes and assessments while i owned 'em, but it must have been, anyhow, five hundred dollars, mawruss, from the way immerglick gives me such a cutthroat looks whenever he sees me nowadays." "everybody ain't so easy as harris immerglick," morris perlmutter commented. "maybe not," abe admitted. "but harris immerglick didn't want them lots not nearly as bad as the kaiser wants peace, mawruss, so while the parties to the proposed contract seems to be at present too wide apart to make a deal likely, mawruss, at the same time i look to see the kaiser offer a few concessions." "perhaps you're right, abe," morris said, "but while the kaiser may have control of enough property so as to throw in a little here and a little there, y'understand, in the end it will be the boot money which will count, abe, and before this deal is closed, abe, you could bet your life that not only would the parties of the first part got to give up belgium, servia, rumania, poland, and alsace-lorraine, but they would also got to pay billions and billions of dollars in cash or certified check upon the delivery of the deed and passing of title under the said contract, and don't you forget it. so if some of them railroad presidents which is now drawing a hundred thousand a year salary, abe, has got any hopes that president wilson would hold up taking over the railroads pending negotiations for peace, y'understand, they must be blessed with sanguinary dispositions, abe, because it's going to take a long time yet the kaiser would concede enough to justify the allies in so much as hesitating on even a single pair of soldiers' pants." "say, if anybody thinks the government would let go the railroads when we make peace with germany, mawruss, he don't know no more about railroads as he does about governments," abe declared, "because this war which the government has got with the railroads, meat-packers, oil trusts, and coal-mine owners wouldn't end when we've licked germany any more than it begun when von tirpitz started his submarine campaign. yes, mawruss, if we wouldn't leave off fighting germany till it's agreed that no fellers like von tirpitz, von buelow, von bethmann-hollweg, and all them other vons can use german subjects and german property for their own personal purposes, why it's a hundred-to-one proposition that we ain't going to leave off fighting the railroads till it's agreed that them von tirpitzes, von buelows, and von hindenbergs of the american railroads couldn't use the transportation business of this country for stock-gambling purpose as though the railroads was gold and silver mining prospects somewhere out in nevada and didn't have a thing to do with the food and coal supply of the nation." "wait a moment," morris said, "and i'll ask jake, the shipping-clerk, to bring you in a button-box. we 'ain't got no soap-boxes." "that ain't no soap-box stuff, mawruss," abe retorted. "if the government should do the same thing to the meat-packers as they did to the railroads, mawruss, the arguments of them soap-box orators wouldn't have a soap-box to stand on." "well, if the government thinks it is necessary in order to carry on the war, abe," morris said, "it will grab the meat business like it has taken over the railroads, but we've got enough to do to supply our soldiers with ammunition without we would spend any time stopping the ammunition of them soap-box fellers." "of course i may be wrong, mawruss," abe admitted, "but the way i look at it, the war ain't an excuse for not cleaning up at home. on the contrary, mawruss, i think it is an opportunity for cleaning up, and when i see in the papers where people writes to the editors that the prohibitionists, the women suffragists, and the union laborers should ought to be ashamed of themselves for putting up arguments when the country is so busy over the war, i couldn't help thinking that there must be people over in germany which is writing to the _tageszeitung_ and the _freie presse_ that the german social democrats and liberals should ought to be ashamed of themselves for putting up arguments about the kaiser giving them popular government when germany is so busy over the war. in other words, it's a stand-off, mawruss, with the exception that the kaiser 'ain't made no speeches so far that germany would never make peace with america till the millions of american women which 'ain't got the vote has some say as to how the war should be carried on and what the terms of peace should be." "do you mean to say that women not having the vote puts our government in the same class with germany?" morris demanded. "i mean to say that the proposition of german men having the vote sounds just so foolish to the kaiser as the proposition of american women having the vote does to this here eli u. root," abe retorted, "and while there is only one kaiser in germany, mawruss, we've got an awful lot of roots in america, so until congress gives women the vote, mawruss, the kaiser will continue to have an elegant come-back at president wilson for that proclamation of his." "well, i'll tell you, abe," morris said, "i read this here proclamation of mr. wilson's when it was published in the papers, and while i admit that it didn't leave so big an impression on me as if it would of been a murder or a divorce case, y'understand, yet as i recollect it, abe, there was enough room in it, so that if the german terms of peace was sufficiently liberal, y'understand, the german popular government needn't got to be so awful popular but what it could get by, understand me." "that's my idee, too," abe declared, "and while i ain't so keen like this here lord handsdown or landsdown, or whatever the feller's name is, that we should jump right in and ask the kaiser if that's the best he could do and how long would he give us to think it over, y'understand, yet you've got to remember that we've all had experiences with fellers like harris immerglick, mawruss, and if the allies would go at this thing in a business-like way, y'understand, it might be a case of going ahead with our business, which is war, and at the same time keeping an eye on the brokers in the transaction." "i don't want to wake you up when you've got such pleasant dreams, abe," morris interrupted, "but the allies is going to need all the eyes they've got during the next year or so, and a few binoculars and periscopes wouldn't go so bad, neither." "all right," abe said, "then don't keep an eye on the brokers, but just the same we could afford to let the matter rest, because you know what brokers are, mawruss: when it comes to putting through a swap, the principals could be a couple of hard-boiled eggs that would sooner make a present of their properties to the first-mortgagees than accept the original terms offered, y'understand, but the brokers never give up hope." "what are you talking about--brokers?" morris exclaimed. "there ain't no brokers in a peace transaction." "ain't there?" abe retorted. "well, if this here czernin ain't the broker representing austria and germany, what is he? i can see the feller right now, the way he walks into trotzky & lenine's office with one of them real-estater smiles that looks as genwine as a twenty-dollar fur-lined overcoat. "'_wie gehts_, mr. trotzky!' he says, like it's some one he used to every afternoon drink coffee together ten years ago and has been wondering ever since what's become of him that he 'ain't seen him so long. only in this case it happens to be lenine he's talking to. "'mr. trotzky ain't in. this is his partner, mr. lenine,' lenine says. "'not barnett lenine used to was november & lenine in the neckwear business?' czernin says. "'no,' lenine says, and although czernin tries to look like he expected as much, it kind of takes the zip out of him, anyhow. "'let's see,' he says, 'this must be chatskel lenine, married a daughter of old man josephthal and has got a sister living in toledo, ohio, by the name rifkin. the husband runs a clothing-store corner of tenth and main, ain't it?' "this time he's got him cornered, and lenine has to admit it, so czernin shakes hands with him and gives him the i.o.m.a. grip, with just a suggestion of the knights of phthias and free sons of courland. "'my name is czernin--sig czernin,' he says. 'i see you don't remember me. i met you at the house of a party by the name linkheimer or linkman, i forget which, but the brother, harris linkheimer--i remember now, it _was_ linkheimer--went to the saint louis exposition and was never heard of afterward.' "'my _tzuris_!' lenine says, but this don't feaze czernin. "'you see,' he says, 'i never forget a face.' "'and you 'ain't got such a bad memory for names, neither,' lenine tells him. "'that ain't neither here nor there,' czernin says, 'because if your name would be o'brien or something swedish, even, i got here a proposition, mr. lenine, which it's a pleasure to me that i got the opportunity of offering it to you, and even if i do say so myself, y'understand, such a gilt-edged proposition like this here ain't in the market every day.' "and that's the way czernin sprung them peace propositions on lenine & trotzky, and it don't make no difference that in this particular instance it's practically a case of lenine & trotzky accepting whatever proposition the kaiser wants to put to them, y'understand, when it comes to dickering with the allies which can afford to act so independent to the kaiser that if czernin is lucky he won't get thrown down-stairs more than a couple of times, y'understand. he will come right back with the names and family histories of a few more common acquaintances and a couple of more concessions on the part of germany, time after time, until it'll begin to look like peace is in sight." "i wish you was right, abe," morris said, "but i think you will find that this here peace contract will be in charge of the diplomats and not the real-estaters." "well, what's the difference?" abe asked. "probably there ain't any," morris admitted, "because their methods is practically the same, which when countries goes to war on account of treaties they claim the other country broke, y'understand, it's usually just so much the fault of the diplomats which got 'em to sign the treaties originally, as when business men get into a lawsuit over a real-estate contract, it is the fault of the real-estate brokers in the transaction. so therefore, abe, unless we want to make a peace treaty with germany which would sooner or later end up in another war, y'understand, the best thing for america to do is to depend for peace not on brokers _oder_ diplomats, but on airyoplanes and guns with the right kind of soldiers to work 'em. furthermore, after we've got the germans back of the rhine will be plenty of time to talk about entering into peace contracts with the kaiser, because then there will be nothing left for the _rosher_ to dicker about, and all we will have to do in the way of diplomacy will be to say, 'sign here,' and he'll sign there." xvi potash and perlmutter on keeping it dark "i got a circular letter from this here garfield where he says we should keep the temperature of our rooms down to sixty-eight degrees," abe potash remarked during the recent below-zero spell in new york. "what do you mean--down to sixty-eight degrees?" morris perlmutter said. "if a feller which lives in a new york city apartment-house nowadays could get the temperature of his rooms as high as down to forty-eight degrees, y'understand, it's only because some of the tenants 'ain't come across with the janitor's present yet and he still has hopes. yes, abe, a circular like that might do some good in pasadena _oder_ pallum beach, y'understand, but it's wasted here in new york." "there's bound to be a whole lot of waste in them don't-waste-nothing circulars," abe commented, "because plenty of people is getting letters from the food conservation commission to go slow on sugar which 'ain't risked taking even a two-grain saccharin tablet in years already, and the chances is that there has been tons and tons of circulars sent out to other people which on account of their livers _oder_ religions wouldn't on any account eat the articles of food which the circulars begs them on no account to eat, y'understand." "and next year them circulars will be still less necessary because enough people is going to get rheumatism from living in cold rooms to cut down the consumption of red meats over fifty per cent.," morris observed. "well, something has got to be done to make people go slow on using up coal, mawruss," abe said, "which the way it is now, mawruss, twice as much coal is burned in one night to manufacture electricity for a sky sign saying that 'toasted sawdust is the perfect breakfast food' on account it is made only from the best grades of tennessee yellow pine, y'understand, as would run an airyoplane-factory for a week, understand me, and children is fooling away their time in the streets because if coal is used to heat the school buildings, y'understand, there wouldn't be enough left for the really important things like lighting up the fronts of vaudeville theayters with the names of actors or telling lies about the mileage of automobile tires by means of a couple of million electric lights every night from sunset to sunrise, understand me." "still there's a good deal to be said on the other side, abe," morris retorted, "which if the new coal regulations is going to make an end of the sky signs, it will cut off practically all the reading that most new-yorkers do outside of the newspapers, y'understand. then again there's a whole lot of people aside from stockholders in electric-lighting companies which used to make a good living out of them sky signs. for instance, what's going to become of the fellers that manufactured them and the firm of certified public accountants _nebich_ which lost the job of adding up the figures on the meters, because while any _schlemiel_ with a good imagination would be trusted to read the ordinary meter, abe, the job of figuring the damages on a sky sign which is eating up a couple of million kilowatt-years every twenty minutes is something else again." "and yet, mawruss, while i 'ain't got such a soft heart that i could even have sympathy for an electric-lighting company, understand me, still i am sorry to see them sky signs go," abe said, "because lots of fellers from the small towns, members of rotary clubs and the like, used to get a great deal of pleasure from seeing a kitten made out of three hundred thousand electric bulbs playing with a spool of silk made out of five hundred and fifty thousand bulbs, and there was something very fascinating about watching that automobile tire which used to light up and go out every once in a while somewheres around the upper end of times square." "sure, i know," morris said. "but if you was spending your good money for such an advertised tire, abe, it wouldn't be very fascinating to watch it blow out every once in a while on account the manufacturer had to skimp the rubber in order to pay the electric-light bills, abe, and if any of them members of rotary clubs is in the dry-goods business and has to pay fancy prices for spool silk, abe, they are _oser_ going to thank the salesmen for the good time they put in while in new york rubbering at his firm's sky sign, because you know as well as i do, abe, when it comes right down to it, nothing costs a customer so much as free entertainment." "of course, mawruss," abe said, "the idee of them electric sky signs is not to entertain, but to advertise, and as an advertising man told me the other day, mawruss, the advertised article is just as low in price as the same article would be if unadvertised, the reason being that the advertised article's output is greater and that he wanted me to advertise in the _daily cloak and suit record_." "well, certainly, if the output is greater the cost of production is or should ought to be less," morris observed, "so i think the feller was right at that, abe." "that's what i told him," abe continued, "but i also said that if i would put for fifty cents a day an advertisement in the paper, y'understand, my partner would never let me hear the end of it." "is _that_ so!" morris exclaimed. "since when did i kick that we shouldn't do no advertising?" "never mind," abe retorted. "i heard you speak often about advertising the same like you done just now about sky signs, which it is already a back-number idee that advertising raised the price of goods to the customer and--" "listen!" morris interrupted. "if i would got it such a back-number idees like you, abe, i would put myself into a home for chronic freemasons or something, which i always was in favor of advertising, except that i believe there is advertising and _advertising_, abe, and when an advertisement only makes you think of what it costs, instead of what it advertises, like sky signs, y'understand, to me it ain't an advertisement at all. it's just a warning." "did i say it wasn't?" abe asked. "the way you talk, mawruss, you would think i was in favor of electric signs, whereas i believe that in times like these a very little publicity goes an awful long ways, mawruss, which if them congressmen down in washington was requested by the coal commission to keep it a trifle dark and not use up so much candle-power in advertising the mistakes that has been made by some fellers now working for the government which 'ain't had as much experience in covering up their tracks as, we would say, for example, a congressman, mawruss, that wouldn't do no harm, neither." "it ain't a question of covering tracks, abe," morris declared, "because them business men which is now working for the government are perfectly honest, although they do make mistakes in their jobs and get rattled easy on the witness-stand, which if such fellers _was_ dishonest, abe, even a congressman would know enough not to advertise it." "as a matter of fact, mawruss," abe declared, "them congressmen ain't calculating to advertise anybody or anything but themselves. yes, mawruss, the way some united states senators acts you would think they was trying to get a national reputation as first-class, cracker-jack, a-number-one police-court lawyers, and the expert manner in which they can confuse and worry a high-grade diston who is sacrificing his time and money to help out the government and make him appear a crook, y'understand, must be a source of great satisfaction to the folks back home--in germany. "and it certainly ain't helping to win the war any, mawruss, which most people would get the idee from reading the accounts of it in the newspapers that mr. hoover was tried by the united states senate and found guilty of boosting the price of sugar in the first degree." "well, in that case, abe," morris suggested, "even if we are a little short of fuel it would of been better for the sugar situation, and maybe also the wool uniforms also, if, instead of getting publicity through investigations, y'understand, the united states senate would fix up an electric sign for the front of the capitol at washington and make senator reed the top-liner in big letters like eva tanguay or mr. louis mann, because here in america we've got incandescent bulbs to burn, abe, but we have only one hoover, and we should ought to take care of him." "understand me, mawruss," abe declared, emphatically, "it ain't that i object to a certain amount of light being thrown on the mistakes that is made in running the war, if it wasn't that they keep everything so dark about the progress that is also made--the submarines we are sinking, the number of soldiers we've got it in france, and what them boys is doing over there, and while i know there's good reasons for it, maybe it's like this here broadway proposition--it pays to keep it dark, but it might pay better to keep it light, which i understand that all the lighting company saves in coal by cutting out the sky signs is less than thirty tons a night." "thirty tons a night would warm a whole lot of people, abe," morris said. "sure, i know," abe agreed. "but even at ten dollars a ton, mawruss, it would be only a saving of three hundred dollars, which i bet yer some restaurants on broadway has lost that much money apiece since the lighting orders went into effect." "that may be," morris admitted, "but what the coal commission is trying to save ain't money, abe. it's coal. and that is one of the points about this war that people 'ain't exactly realized yet. money ain't what it once used to was before this war, abe. you can still make it, lose it, spend it, and save it, but you couldn't sweeten your coffee with it or heat your house with it till there's sugar and coal enough to go around. also it's only a question of time when money won't get you to pallum beach in the winter or maine in the summer unless the government official in charge of the railroads thinks it is necessary, and also if this war only goes on long enough and wool gets any scarcer, abe, money won't buy you a new pair of pants even until you can put up a good enough argument with it to convince a government pants inspector that it's a case of either buying a new pair of pants or a frock-coat to make the old ones decent, understand me." "but the papers has said right straight along that money would win this war, mawruss," abe said. "yes, and it could lose it, too, according to the way it is spent," morris continued, "and particularly right now when money can still buy things which the government needs for the soldiers, y'understand, money is a dangerous article in the hands of some people who think that the feller which don't feel the high price of sugar is more privileged to eat it than the feller which could barely afford it." "even so," abe remarked, "it seems to me that not spending money must be an easy way to be patriotic." "and some fellers is just natural-born patriots that way," morris added, "and if they ain't, y'understand, the war is going to make them. it's going to give the rich man the same chance to be a good sitson as the poor man, and it's made a fine start by taking the lights off of broadway so that you couldn't tell it from a respectable street, like lexington avenue." "couldn't a street be lighted up and still be respectable?" abe asked. "yes, and a rich man could spend his money foolishly and also be respectable," morris agreed, "but not in war-times." xvii potash and perlmutter on the peace program, including the added extra feature and the supper turn "it seems that this here luxberg, the german representative in argentine which sent them _spurlos versenkt_ letters, has been crazy for years, mawruss," abe potash said, one morning in january. "yes?" morris perlmutter said. "and when did they find _that_ out, abe?" "it's an old story, mawruss," abe replied. "everybody knew it in berlin, only they never happened to think of it until we discovered those letters in the private mail of the swedish minister." "and what do they lay the swedish minister's behavior to, abe?" morris inquired. "stomach trouble?" "_that_ they didn't say," abe continued. "but i guess they figure that sweden should think up her own alibis." "well, it's a hopeful sign when the germans realize that them luxberg letters sound like the idees of a crazy man, abe," morris said, "although compared to zimmermann's break about handing mexico a couple of our southern states if she went to war with us, y'understand, luxberg's letters ain't so _meshuggah_, neither. so it seems to me, abe, that germany would be doing well to say that luxberg was drunk when he wrote them letters, because later when it comes to explaining the hundreds of rotten acts that germans has done in this war, abe, germany is going to have to think up a lot of excuses, and she may as well keep the insanity defense for somebody who would really need it, like the kaiser." "don't worry about the kaiser, mawruss," abe said. "for years already that feller has been getting up such strong evidence for an insanity defense, in the way of speeches to soldiers, y'understand, that he could feel absolutely safe in not only doing what he _has_ been doing, but also what doctor waite and harry thaw did, too, because all that the counsel for the defense would got to do is to read the kaiser's remarks at koenigsburg, for instance, and five minutes after the jury had returned a verdict without leaving their seats, y'understand, the kaiser would be on his way up to the matteawan asylum for the criminal insane." "there ain't much danger of that, anyway," morris declared, "because i read them fourteen propositions of mr. wilson's peace program, and so far as any mention is made of punishing the guilty parties, abe, you might suppose the _lusitania_ had never been sunk at all, which it may be dumbness on my part, abe, but the way it looks to me is that if them fourteen propositions is fourteen net, and not ten, five, and two and one-half off for cash, understand me, we have got to give germany such a big licking before she accepts them that we might just so well give her a bigger one and add propositions from fifteen to twenty inclusive, of which proposition sixteen would contain the same demands as proposition fifteen, except that the person upon whom the sentence was to be carried out would be the crown prince instead of the kaiser, but no flowers in either case, understand me, and if twenty propositions wasn't enough to take care of all the responsible parties we could add as many more propositions as necessary." [illustration: "and five minutes after the jury had returned a verdict would be on his way up to the matteawan asylum for the criminal insane."] "what you are trying to fix up, mawruss, ain't a program, but a catalogue, mawruss," abe commented, "which if we want to get a performance of mr. wilson's program, y'understand, and they're going to have a lot of trouble putting that number over with a satisfactory sea, on account they would either have to paint a sea, dig a sea, or have some sort of a sea effect, because poland is like iowa, mawruss--the only time you could get a glimpse of the sea there is when they run off one of them annette kellermann filums in a moving-picture theayter." "that only goes to show what you know from poland," morris retorted, "because in seventeen ninety-three a lot of the sea-front of prussia belonged to poland." "yes, and in seventeen ninety-three a lot of the sea-front of texas belonged to mexico," abe continued. "so i guess mr. wilson must have some sea in mind which ain't barred by the statute of limitations; but that ain't here nor there, because getting a sea to poland ain't the biggest difficulty in carrying out the peace program. take, for instance, number six on the program, which is a proposed turn or act by all the allies, entitled, 'welcoming russia into the society of free nations.' the directions is that the performers should give russland all sorts of assistance of every kind that she may need, and also to behave kindly to her, y'understand, and no sooner does mr. wilson come out with this, so to speak sob scenario, understand me, than trotzky & lenine get right back at him with a counter-proposition, so i guess that the present number six will be taken out of the program, and another number substituted for it, like this: vi extra added feature, the popular russian dramatic stars in rôles that suit them to perfection leon trotzky & lenine barney in 'nix on the bonds,' a playlet with a punch. suspense, surprise, finish, and all the fixings that make a snappy dramatic entertainment in tabloid form." "the mistake that mr. wilson made in number six on the program was that he took it for granted when the allies welcomed russland into the society of free nations, russia would behave like a new member should ought to behave, instead of which russia started right in by giving a bad check for her initiation fees and first annual dues," morris said. "she has also got out of the united states railroad supplies, munitions, and food, y'understand, and after giving bonds in payment, abe, she turns right round and refuses to make good on 'em and at the same time practically says, 'what are you going to do about it?' and all this is right on top of mr. wilson saying, 'the treatment accorded to russia by her sister nations,' y'understand, 'in the months to come,' _verstehst du mich_, 'will be the acid test of their good-will,' understand me, 'and of their intelligent and unselfish sympathy.'" "well, i'll tell you," abe remarked, "the english which i learned it at night school, mawruss, was more or less a popular-price line of language, and when mr. wilson comes across every once in a while with one of them exclusive models in the way of speeches, using principally high-grade words in imported designs, understand me, i ain't no more equipped to handle his stuff than a manufacturer of fly-papers is to make flying-machines, _but_ as an ignorant business man, mawruss, which you would be the last person to admit that i ain't, mawruss, it seems to me that the acid test of our good-will is not going to be the way we treat russland, but the way russia treats us; and, in fact, mawruss, russia already poured a little acid on us long before this. but now when she renigs on her bonds and practically gives us a whole bathful of acid, mawruss, for my part the treatment needn't go on for months to come. i am satisfied with the acid test so far as it's gone _this_ month, mawruss, because it don't make no difference what kind of acid you use, mawruss, a dead beat is a dead beat, understand me, and for a dead beat nobody has got any sympathy--either intelligent or unselfish, or unintelligent and selfish. am i right or wrong, mawruss?" "i wouldn't worry my head over that if i was you, abe," morris said, "because, as you said just now, russland will attend to that number on the program for herself. but what is troubling me is number one, which provides that peace shall be made openly, and at the same time does away with the possibility that some afternoon when you and me gets out of here, after making up our minds that the war would last for ten years yet, we would buy a sporting extra with final wall street complete, and see the whole front page filled up mit the word peace in letters a foot high, understand me, which it has always been in the back of my head that the next time colonel house would slip off to europe no one would know anything about till the treaty of peace comes back signed 'woodrow wilson, per e.m.h.' but if the first number on the program goes through as planned, abe, and we have open covenants of peace openly arrived at, y'understand, why, then, that will be something else again." "you bet your life it would be something else again," abe agreed, fervently, "and what is more, mawruss, not only would them covenants of peace be open, but they would remain open for a long time, because there's a whole lot of senators, congressmen, ex-senators, ex-congressmen, and ex-presidents which is laying for the opportunity when peace is proposed, so that they can discuss the peace terms with one another, openly, frankly, and in the public view, as mr. wilson would say. yes, mawruss, there's several political orators in and out of congress which has got the word 'traitor' in their system and has got to get it out again in reference to somebody--preferably a member of the cabinet--before peace negotiations is closed, and there is also such indigestible words like 'pusillanimous,' which gives certain ex-presidents a feeling of fullness around the throat, and a couple of senators will need time to find out just what the other senators wants to do about them peace terms so that they can differ with them; and looking at it one way and another, mawruss, if senator wadsworth and senator mckellar thinks it is taking a long time to get ready for war, they should wait till we get ready for peace, mawruss, and if they don't want to be afterward holding investigations as to why the throat specialists wasn't mobilized on time, mawruss, they should start right in and mobilize the throat specialists, and also it wouldn't do any harm to find out the available stock of cough-drops is in the hands of the dealers, so that the lung power of the nation can go forth to holler for peace equipped to the last menthol lozenge." "in a way, that ain't no joke, neither, abe," morris said. "there is people that mr. wilson didn't include in his war program which is going to do their utmost to horn in on his peace program at the very best spot in the bill. take mr. roosevelt, and his friends will no doubt insist that mr. wilson does a supper turn while mr. roosevelt goes on somewheres around nine forty-five, because to-day yet they're talking about making the presidency of the united states a coalition affair, in which wilson, roosevelt, and taft would be equal partners with the same drawing account and everything." "and where does mr. wilson get off in this coalition business?" abe inquired. "ain't two undivided one-thirds of the presidency of the united states for the unexpired portion of his term worth nothing to mr. wilson, even at short rates, mawruss?" "well," morris replied, "i suppose roosevelt and taft would throw in their experience as presidents." "say!" abe exclaimed. "there ain't a week goes by nowadays but what mr. wilson gets more experience as president than taft and roosevelt did in both their terms put together, so i don't think you need waste no more breath about it, mawruss. when the people last time elected a president of the united states they chose mr. wilson as an individual, not as a co-partner, and you could take it from me, mawruss, it don't make no difference whether it would be a peace program or a war program which mr. wilson is fixing up, the name of the chief performer on it was settled by the people a year ago last november!" xviii potash and perlmutter on the new national holidays "yes, mawruss," abe potash said, after mr. garfield had announced the five-day shut-down, "one of the hardest things that a patriotic sitson is called on to do nowadays is to have faith in those fellers which is running the fuel commission, the food commission, and all the other commissions that they ain't such big fools as you would think for." "well, you don't think this here garfield would close up the country for five days unless it would be necessary, ain't it?" morris perlmutter retorted. "certainly i don't," abe agreed. "but what is troubling me is that he ain't said as yet for why it is necessary, mawruss." "maybe he 'ain't figured it out yet," morris suggested. "and even if he didn't, abe, it stands to reason that if the country don't burn no coal for five days, at the end of five days they would still got the coal they didn't burn, provided they had got any coal at all to start with." "but as i understand it, mawruss," abe said, "not burning coal 'ain't got nothing at all to do mit mr. garfield's order that we shouldn't burn no coal. it seems from what ex-president taft says and also from what a professor by the name of jinks _oder_ jenks says, mawruss, mr. garfield done it because the people 'ain't begun to realize that we are at war, mawruss." "you mean to say that _again_ the people don't begin to realize we are at war?" morris exclaimed. "it couldn't be possible, abe. here we have had two liberty loan campaigns, a military draft which took in every little cross-road village in the country, a war-tax bill that hits everybody and everything, and people like mr. taft and professor jinks saying day in and day out that the people 'ain't begun to realize we are at war, y'understand, and yet you try to tell me that the people has slipped right back into not beginning to realize we are at war, abe." "i don't try to tell you nothing," abe said. "for my part i think it's time that somebody put them wise, mawruss." "what do you mean--put them wise?" morris demanded. "the people knows that--" "who is saying anything about the people?" abe interrupted. "i am talking about mr. taft and this here professor jinks, mawruss. them fellers has got ideas from spring and summer designs of nineteen seventeen. what we are looking for from the big men of the country is new ideas for the late summer of nineteen eighteen and fall and winter seasons of nineteen eighteen, nineteen nineteen, and this here people-'ain't-begun-to-realize talk was already a back-number line of conversation in june, nineteen seventeen." "but what them fellers is driving into, abe," morris observed, "is that it's going to help the war along if the people of america should be made to suffer along with the people of france and england. they figure that it ain't going to do us americans a bit of harm to know how them frenchers feel, _nebich_, with the germans holding on to their coal-supply, abe." "well, we could get the same effect by going round in athaletic underwear and no overcoats, mawruss," abe retorted, "so if that's what mr. taft claims mr. garfield shut off the coal for, mawruss, he is beating around the wrong bushes." "and he ain't the only one, neither, abe," morris said. "from the way other people is talking, abe, you would think that in order to get into this war _right_, y'understand, we should ought to go to work and blow up a few dozen american cathedrals, send up airyoplanes over new york, and drop a couple gross bombs on the business section of the town, poison the water-supply, cut off the milk for the babies, and do everything else that them miserable germans did to france and england, not to say also russia, y'understand. this will cause us to become so sore, understand me, that everybody of fighting age will want to fight, and the rest of us will be willing to work in the munition-factories and spend all our time and money to end a war where american cathedrals is being blown up, airyoplanes is bombing new york, and babies is suffering for want of milk, abe." "you mean that professor jinks is willing to have us believe that mr. garfield is shutting off the coal, not because it's necessary, but because it's the equivalence of us bombing our own cities and making ourselves feel sore?" abe asked. "mr. garfield?" "ordinary people which ain't professors and ex-presidents might figure that way," morris continued, "but it seems that the theory is we are going to feel sore at germany, abe." "well," abe commented, "i am perfectly willing to feel sore at germany for the things she has done in this war, mawruss, and i am so sore at germany, anyway, that i am also willing to feel sore at her for the things which she 'ain't done also, mawruss, but so far as mr. garfield is concerned, y'understand, i prefer to think that he's a hard-working feller which could once in a while make a mistake, understand me, and that if he cuts off the coal, it's on account he thinks it's necessary to save the coal. because if i thought the way professor jinks thinks, mawruss, and i should meet mr. garfield face to face somewheres, understand me, the least they could send me up for would be using rotten language tending to cause a breach of the peace, y'understand." "sure i know, abe," morris agreed. "but the chances is that mr. taft and professor jinks may have a private idee that when mr. garfield shut down on the coal he could of saved coal in some other way, and so in order that he shouldn't get stumped for explanations afterward, y'understand, they are taking this way of giving him what they think is a good pointer in that line, understand me, because if you read the papers this morning, abe, there must be thousands of prominent sitsons which claims to be patriotic, y'understand, and from what them fellers said about mr. garfield, abe, it was plain to me that the stuff they was holding back from saying about him was pretty near giving them apoplexy, y'understand." "well, when it comes to cussing out the fuel administrator, mawruss," abe said, "them prominent sitsons wouldn't have nothing on the unprominent sitsons which is going to lose five days' pay now and one day's pay a week for ten weeks later. yes, mawruss, what them poor people is going to call mr. garfield during the five days they will lay off is going to pretty near warm up their cold homes even if it ain't going to provide food for their families, mawruss. furthermore, mawruss, five continuous days is going to give them an opportunity to do a lot more real, hard thinking than they could do if they would have, we would say, for example, only one hour a day lay-off every other day over a period of a hundred days, mawruss, and if at the end of them five days, mawruss, they are going to take as much interest in the problems of this war as they are in the problem of how they are going to catch up with what they owe for five days' food and rent, mawruss, i miss my guess, because mr. taft and professor jinks may think that them fellers is going to spend their five days' lockout in looking up war maps and sticking little colored flags in the positions now held by the french and german troops or in reading up the life of general pershing and _my three years in germany_ by ambassador gerard, mawruss, _but i don't_." "and yet, abe, admitting all you say is true, y'understand, what reason do you got for supposing that before mr. garfield shut off the coal he didn't also consider all these things, when they even occurred to a feller like you?" morris asked. "what do you mean--a feller like me?" abe demanded. "thousands of people the country over is saying the selfsame thing." "i know they are," morris said. "and why you and they should think that what occurred to thousands of people the country over shouldn't also occur to mr. garfield, abe, is beyond me. now i don't know no more about this coal proposition than you do, abe, but i am willing to take a chance that when a big man like garfield, backed up by president wilson, does a crazy thing like this, y'understand, he must have had an awful good reason for it, no matter how good the reasons were against it." "did i say he didn't?" abe said. "then why knock the feller?" morris asked. "say, looky here, mawruss," abe retorted, "are we living in germany or america? an idee! on twenty-four hours' notice the government shuts off the coal-supply of the country and you expect that all that the people would say is, '_omane! solo!_' ('amen! selah!')." "well, that's the way a government does business--on short notice, abe, which if mr. garfield would be one of them take-it-on-the-other-hand fellers who considers the matter from every angle before he decides, y'understand, while he would have still got a couple of thousand angles to consider the matter from, abe, the country would have been tied up into such knots over the coal-and-freight situation that it would have required not five days, but five hundred days, to untangle it, y'understand," morris said. "but it seems to me, mawruss, that mr. garfield could have spent, say, twenty-five minutes longer on that order of his, so that a manufacturer could tell from reading it over a few dozen times, with the assistance of a first-class, cracker-jack, a-number-one criminal lawyer, just what it was he couldn't do without making himself liable to a fine of five thousand dollars and one year imprisonment, y'understand," abe said. "in fact, mawruss, if the average manufacturer is going to try to understand that order before he does anything about it he'll have to shut down for five days while he is working to puzzle it out, and then he will keep his place closed down for five days longer while he is resting up from brain fag, understand me. take, for instance, a department store which sells liquors and groceries, has a doctor in charge of the rest-room, and runs a public lunch-room in the basement, y'understand, and if the proprietor decided to make a test case of it by hiring john b. stanchfield and keeping open on monday, mawruss, once mr. garfield got on the witness-stand and started to explain just what the exemptions exempted, y'understand, it would be years and years before he ever had a chance to see the old college again." "but mr. garfield wrote that order to save coal, not arguments, abe," morris said. "he expected that the business men of the country would do the sensible thing next monday by staying home and playing pinochle or poker, and those fellers which don't know enough about cards to even _kibbitze_ the game, y'understand, could go into another room and start in on their income-tax blanks, which, when it comes to figuring out what is capital and what is income in the excess-profits returns, abe, there is many a business man which would not only put in all his mondays between now and the first of march trying to straighten it out, y'understand, but would also be asking for further extensions of time to finish it up along about the fifteenth of april." "and that's the way it goes, mawruss," abe commented, with a sigh. "it use to was in the old days that all a feller had to know to go into the clothing business was clothing, y'understand, but nowadays a manufacturer of clothing or any other merchandise must also got to be a certified public accountant, an expert of high-grade words from the english language, a liar, a detective, and should also be able to take the stand on his own behalf in such a level-head way that the assistant district attorney couldn't get him rattled on cross-examination." "well, my advice to these test-case fellers, abe," morris concluded, "is this: be patriotic now. don't wait till you're indicted." xix mr. wilson: that's all potash and perlmutter discuss the chamberlain suggestion. "you know how it is yourself, mawruss," abe potash said, one morning in january. "if you would see somebody nailing up something your first idee is to say: 'here, give me that hammer. is that a way to nail up a packing-case?' and then, if you went to work and showed him how, the chances is that before you get through the packing-case would look like it had been nailed up with a charge of shrapnel, and for six months people would be asking you what's the matter with your sore thumb. painting is the same way. there's mighty few people which could see anybody else doing a home job of enameling without they would want to grab ahold of the brush and get themselves covered with enamel from head to foot, y'understand. so can you imagine the way mr. roosevelt is feeling about this war, mawruss?" "well, you've got to hand it to mr. roosevelt," morris perlmutter said. "he has had some small experience in that line, although, at that, you've got to take his statements of what ain't being done to run the war right with a grain of salt, abe, whereas with senator chamberlain, y'understand, when he says that the president ain't running the war right according to the idees of a man which used to was a practising lawyer and politician out in the state of oregon, y'understand, and, therefore, abe, his speeches should ought to be barred by the food conservation commission as being contrary to the save the salt movement." "but even mr. roosevelt, which he may or may not know anything about running a modern army, as the case may be and probably ain't, mawruss, because lots of changes has come about in the running of armies since mr. roosevelt went out of the business, mawruss," abe said, "but as i was saying, mawruss, even mr. roosevelt, as big a patriot as _he_ is, y'understand, ain't above spoiling a perfectly good job half done by mr. wilson, because he just couldn't resist saying: 'here, give me hold of them soldiers. is that a way to run an army?" "and besides, abe," morris said, "there's a great many people in this country, including mr. roosevelt, which believes that the only man which has got any license to say how the army should ought to be run is mr. roosevelt, y'understand, and ever since we got into this war, abe, them fellers has been hanging around looking at mr. wilson like a crowd watching a feller gilding the ball on the top of the metropolitan tower, not wishing the feller any harm, y'understand, and hoping that he will either get away with it unhurt or make the drop while they are still standing there." "they ain't so patient like all that, mawruss," abe said. "them fellers has got so tired waiting for mr. wilson to fall down on his job that they now want to drag him down or, anyhow, trip him up." "well, i wouldn't go so far as to say that," morris declared, "but it looks to me that when mr. roosevelt read the results of the senate investigations, y'understand, he wasn't as much shocked and surprised as he would have liked to have been, although to hear senator chamberlain talk you might think that what them investigations showed was bad enough to satisfy not only mr. roosevelt, but the kaiser and his friends, also, when, as a matter of fact, the worst that any good american can say about mr. wilson as a result of them investigations is that instead of hiring angels who performed miracles, y'understand, he hired human beings who made mistakes." "sure, i know," abe said. "but the worst thing of all that mr. wilson did was to say that senator chamberlain was talking wild when he made a speech about how every department of the government had practically gone to pieces, which senator chamberlain says that no matter how wild he may have talked before, nobody ever accused him that he talked wild in all the twenty-four years he has held public office." "well, that only goes to show how wild some people talk, abe," morris said, "because when a man has held office for twenty-four years, talking wild is the very least people accuse him of." "but as a matter of fact, mawruss, a feller from oregon was telling me that senator chamberlain has held public office ever since eighteen eighty," abe said. "he has run for everything from assemblyman to governor, and if he ain't able to remember by fourteen years how long he has held public office, mawruss, how could he blame mr. wilson for accusing him that he is talking wild, in especially as he now admits that when he said all the departments of the government had broken down, y'understand, what he really meant was that the war department had broken down. his word should not be questioned, or, in effect, that when a senator presents a statement, the terms he is entitled to are seventy-five per cent. discount for facts." "some of 'em needs a hundred per cent.," morris said, "but that ain't here nor there, abe. this war is bigger than mr. chamberlain's reputation, even as big as mr. chamberlain thinks it is, and it don't make no difference to us how many speeches mr. roosevelt makes or what senator stone calls him or he calls senator stone. furthermore, senator penrose, senator mckellar, and this here hitchcock can also volunteer to police the game, abe, but when it comes right _to_ it, y'understand, every one of them fellers is just a _kibbitzer_, the same like these nuisances that sit around a second avenue coffee-house and give free advice to the pinochle-players--all they can see is the cards which has been played, and as for the cards which is still remaining in mr. wilson's hand, they don't know no more about it than you or i do." "and the only kick they've got, after all," abe said, "is that president wilson won't expose his hand, which if he did, mawruss, he might just so well throw the game to germany and be done with it." "so you see, abe, them fellers, including mr. roosevelt, is willing to let no personal modesty stand in the way of a plain patriotic duty, at least so far as thirty-three and a third per cent. of his answer was concerned. but at that, it wouldn't do him no good, abe, because, owing to what mr. roosevelt maintains is an oversight at the time the constitution of the united states was fixed up 'way back in the year seventeen seventy-six, y'understand, the president of the united states was appointed the commander-in-chief to run the united states army and navy, and also the president was otherwise mentioned several other times, but you could read the constitution backward and forward, from end to end, and the word ex-president ain't so much as hinted at, y'understand." "evidencely they thought that an ex-president would be willing to stay ex," abe suggested. "but mr. roosevelt ain't," morris said. "all that he wanted from mr. wilson was a little encouragement to take some small, insignificant part in this war, abe, and it would only have been a matter of a short time when it would have required an expert to tell which was the president and which was the ex, y'understand." "i don't agree with you, mawruss," abe said. "where mr. wilson has made his big mistake is that he is conducting this war on the theory of the old whisky brogan, 'wilson! that's all.' if he would only of understood that you couldn't run a restaurant, a garment business, or even a war without stopping once in a while to jolly the knockers, mawruss, all this investigation stuff would never of happened. why, if i would have been mr. wilson and had a proposition like mr. roosevelt on my hands it wouldn't make no difference how rushed i was, every afternoon him and me would drink coffee together, and after i had made up my mind what i was going to do i would put it up to him in such a way that he would think the suggestion came from him, y'understand. then i would find out what it was that senator chamberlain preferred, _gefullte rinderbrust_ or _tzimmas_, and whenever we had it for dinner, y'understand, i would have senator chamberlain up to the house and after he had got so full of _tzimmas_ that he couldn't argue no more i would tell him what me and mr. roosevelt had agreed upon, and it wouldn't make no difference if i said to him, 'am i right or wrong?' or 'ain't that the sensible view to take of it?' he would say, 'sure!' in either case." "you may be right, abe," morris agreed, "but if he was to begin that way with roosevelt and chamberlain, the first thing you know, william randolph hearst would be looking to be invited up for a five-course-luncheon consultation, and the least senator wadsworth and senator mckellar would expect would be an occasional welsh rabbit up at the white house, which even if mr. wilson's conduct of the war didn't suffer by it, his digestion might, and the end would be, abe, that every senator who couldn't get the ear of the president with, anyhow, a dutch lunch, would pull an investigation on him as bad as anything that chamberlain ever started." "it's too bad them fellers couldn't act the way mr. taft is behaving," abe said. "there is an ex-president which is really and truly ex, y'understand, and seemingly don't want to be nothing else, neither." "well, mr. taft has got a whole lot of sympathy for mr. wilson, abe," morris said. "he knows how it is himself, because when he was president, y'understand, he also had experience with mr. roosevelt trying to police his administration." "there's only one remedy, so far as i could see, morris," abe said, "if we're ever going to have mr. wilson make any progress with the war." "you don't mean we should put through that law for the three brightest men in the country to run it?" morris inquired. "no, sir," abe replied. "put through a law that after anybody has held the office of ex-president for two administrations, mawruss, he should become a private sitson--and mind his own business." xx potash and perlmutter discuss the grand-opera business "where grand opera gets its big boost, mawruss," abe potash said, the morning after madame galli-curci made her sensational first appearance in new york, "is that practically everybody with a rating higher than j to l, credit fair, hates to admit that it don't interest them at all." "and even if it did interest them, abe," morris perlmutter said, "they would got to have at least that rating before they could afford it to buy a decent seat." "most of them don't begrudge the money spent this way, mawruss, because it comes under the head of advertising and not amusement," abe said. "next to driving a four-horse coach down fifth avenue in the afternoon rush hour with a feller playing a new-year's-eve horn on the back of the roof, mawruss, owning a box at the metropolitan opera house is the highest-grade form of publicity which exists, and the consequence is that other people which believes in that kind of advertising medium, but couldn't afford to take so much space per week, sits in the cheaper ten-and six-dollar seats. and that's how the metropolitan opera house makes its money, mawruss. it gets a thousand times better rates as any of the big five-cent weeklies, and it don't have to worry about the second-class-postage zones." "but you don't mean to tell me that the people which stands up down-stairs and buys seats in the gallery is also looking for publicity?" morris said. "them people is something else, again," abe replied. "they are as different from the rest of the audience as magazine-readers is from magazine-advertisers. take the box-holders in the metropolitan opera house and they _oser_ give a nickel what happens to caruso. he could get burned in 'trovatore,' stabbed in 'pagliacci,' go to the devil in 'faust,' and have his intended die on him in 'bohème,' and just so long as their names is spelled right on the programs it don't affect them millionaires no more than if, instead of being the greatest tenor in the world, he would be an interstate commerce commissioner. on the other hand, them top-gallery fellers treats him like a little god, y'understand, which if caruso hands them opera fans a high c, mawruss, it's the equivalence of dun or bradstreet giving one of them box-holders an a-a." "maybe you're right, abe," morris said, "but how do you account for people paying forty dollars for an orchestra seat at the lexington opera house just to hear this singer galli-curci in one performance only, which i admit i ain't no advertising expert, abe, but it seems to me that if anybody is going to get benefit from publicity like that he might just so well circulate a picture of himself drinking champanyer wine out of a lady's satin slipper and be done with it, for all the good it is going to do him with the national association of credit men." "that is another angle of the grand-opera proposition, mawruss," abe said. "paying forty dollars for an orchestra seat to hear this lady with the lloyd-george name is the same like an operation for appendicitis to some people, mawruss. it not only makes them feel superior to their friends which 'ain't had the experience, but it gives 'em a tropic of conversation which is never going to be barred by the statue of limitations, and for months to come such a feller is going to go round saying, 'well, i heard galli-curci the other night,' and it won't make no difference if it's a pinochle game, a lodge funeral, or a real-estate transaction, he's going to hold it up for from fifteen minutes to half an hour while he talks about her upper register, her middle register, and her lower register to a bunch of people who don't know whether a coloratura soprano can travel on a sleeper south to washington, d.c., or has to use the jim crow cars." "all right, if it's such a crime not to know what a coloratura soprano is, abe," morris commented, "i'm guilty in the first degree. so go ahead, abe. i'm willing to take my punishment. tell me, what _is_ a coloratura soprano?" "i suppose you think i don't know," abe said. "i don't think you don't know," morris replied, "but i do think that the only reason you _do_ know, abe, is that you 'ain't looked it up long enough since to have forgotten it." "is _that_ so!" abe exclaimed. "well, that's where you make a big mistake. i am already an experienced hand at going on the opera. when i was by old man baum we had a customer by the name harris feinsilver, which if you only get him started on how he heard jenny lind at what is now the aquarium in battery park somewheres around eighteen hundred and fifty-two, y'understand, you could sell him every sticker in the place, and him and me went often on the opera together. in fact i got so that i didn't mind it at all, and that's how i become acquainted with the different grades of singers which works by grand opera. take, for instance, sopranos, and they come in two classes. there is the soprano which hollers murder police and they call her a dramatic soprano. and then again there is the soprano which gargles. that is a coloratura soprano." "and people is paying forty dollars an orchestra seat to hear a woman gargle?" morris exclaimed. "of course i don't say she actually gargles, y'understand," abe explained, "anyhow not all the time, mawruss. once in a while she sings a song which has got quite a tune in it pretty near up to the end, and then she carries on something terrible anywheres from two to eight minutes till the feller that runs the orchestra couldn't stand it no longer and he gives them the signal they should drown her out." [illustration: "take, for instance, sopranos, and they come in two classes. there is the soprano which hollers murder police and they call her a dramatic soprano. and then again there is the soprano which gargles. that is a coloratura soprano."] "i should think he would get to know when it is coming on her and drown her out before she starts," morris said. "what do you mean--drown her out before she starts?" abe continued. "that's what she gets paid for--carrying on in such a manner, and them people up in the top gallery goes crazy over it." "then why don't the feller which runs the orchestra let her keep it up?" morris asked. "a question!" abe said. "there is from forty to fifty men working in the orchestra, and if the feller which runs it let them top-gallery people have their way it would cost him a fortune for overtime for them fellers that plays the fiddles alone." "he should arrange a wage scale accordingly," morris said, "because it don't make no difference if it's the garment business or the grand-opera business, abe, the customer should ought to come first." "_i_ always felt that i got _my_ money's worth, mawruss," abe said. "in particular when it comes to one of them operas with a coloratura soprano in it, y'understand, it seemed to me they could of cut down on the working time without hurting the quality of the goods in the slightest. there's always a good fifteen minutes wasted in such operas where a feller in the orchestra plays a little something on the flute and the coloratura soprano sings the same music on the stage, the idee being to show that you couldn't tell the difference between the feller playing the flute and the coloratura soprano except the feller playing the flute has all his clothes on. then, again, during the death-bed scene in the last act they kill a whole lot of time also." "do you mean to say there's a death-bed scene in every one of them operas?" morris inquired. "practically," abe replied. "there ain't many grand operas where both the tenor and the soprano sticks it out alive till the end of the last act, mawruss. tenors, in particular, is awful risks, mawruss, which i bet yer that eighty per cent. of the times i seen caruso he either passed away along about quarter past eleven after an awful hard spell of singing, or give you the impression that he wasn't going to survive the soprano more than a couple of days at the outside." "and yet some people couldn't understand why everybody takes in the winter garden or ziegfeld's follies," morris commented. "of course i don't say that the audience suffers as much as if it was in the english language, but even when a lady dies in french or italian i couldn't enjoy it, neither," abe said. "it seems to me, abe, that a feller which goes often on grand opera is lucky if he understands only english," morris observed. "that's what you would naturally think, mawruss," abe agreed, "and yet there is people which is so anxious that they shouldn't miss none of the tenor's last words that they actually go to work and buy for twenty-five cents in the lobby a translation of the italian operas, which i got stung that way only once, because to follow from the english translation what the singers is saying on the stage in italian, mawruss, a feller could be a combination of a bloodhound and a mind-reader, y'understand, and even then he would get twisted. for instance, caruso comes out with a couple hundred assorted tenors and bassos, and so far as any human being could tell which don't understand italian, mawruss, he begs them that they shouldn't go out on strike right in the middle of the busy season, in particular when times is so hard and everything, and from the way he puts his hand on his heart it looks like he is also telling them that he is speaking to them as a friend, y'understand, and to consider their wives and children, understand me. all the effect this seems to have on them is that they yell, 'down with the bosses!' and they insist on a closed shop and that the terms of the protocol should be lived up to. this gets caruso crazy. he grabs his vest with both hands and makes one last big appeal, y'understand, in which he tells them that the delegates is stalling and that they are being made suckers of, and that if it would be the last word he would ever speak, the sensible thing is for them to go right back to work and leave it to arbitration by a joint board consisting of the president of the manufacturers' association, the chairman of the garment workers' union, and jacob h. schiff, y'understand, but do you think they would listen to him? _oser a stück!_ they laugh in his face, and it don't make no difference that he repeats it an octave higher accompanied by the fiddles, and gives them one last chance, ending on a high c, y'understand, they refuse to reconsider the matter, and when the curtain goes down it looks like the strike was on for fair. however, when the lights are turned on and you look it up in the english translation, what do you find? the entire thing was a false alarm, mawruss. it seems that for twenty minutes caruso has been singing over and over again, 'come, my friends, let us go,' and the whole time them people was acting like they wanted to tear him to pieces, they have been saying, 'yes, yes, let us go' a thousand times over, and that's all there was _to_ it." "well, after all, with a grand opera, it ain't so much the words as the music," morris commented. "even the music they don't take it so particular about nowadays," abe continued. "in fact, the up-to-date thing in grand opera is not to have any music, mawruss, only samples, which some of them newest grand operas, mawruss, if it wouldn't be that the people on the stage is making such a racket instead of the people in the audience you would think that the orchestra was continuing to tune up during the entire evening." "seemingly you didn't get a whole lot out of your visits to the opera, abe," morris said. "oh yes, i did," abe replied. "i got some wonderful idees for dinner-dress designs and evening gowns. i 'ain't got no kick coming against the opera, mawruss. a garment-manufacturer can put in a very profitable evening there any night if he can only stand the music." xxi potash and perlmutter discuss the magazine in war-times "i am just now reading an article by a feller which his name i couldn't remember, but he used to was a baseball-writer for the new york _moon,"_ abe potash said, as he laid down one of the several weeklies that have the largest circulation in the united states. "is this a time to read about baseball?" morris perlmutter asked. "what do you mean--baseball?" abe demanded. "i said that the feller _used_ to was a baseball-writer, but he is now a dramatic cricket." "with me and dramatic crickets, abe," morris said, "it is always showless tuesday, which when it comes to knocking plays, abe, believe me, i don't need no assistance from nobody." "who said he is knocking plays, mawruss?" abe protested. "this here dramatic cricket has just returned from the western front, and he says that the way it looks now the war would last until--" "excuse me for interrupting you, abe," morris said, "but is there an article in that paper by a soldier which used to was a certified public accountant telling what is going to happen in the show business, because, if so, it might interest me, y'understand, but what a dramatic cricket who is also an ex-baseball-writer has got to say about the war, abe, would only make me mad, abe, because there is people writing about this war which really knows something about it, whereas as a general proposition it don't make no difference who writes about the show business, he usually don't know no more about it as, for example, a baseball-writer." "that's where you make a big mistake, mawruss," abe said. "i have read articles about the war ever since the war started, and so far as i could see, mawruss, the fellers which wrote them might just so well of stayed at home and got their dope from actors and baseball-players, because you take, for instance, the fellers which has written about conditions in russland, mawruss, and claims to have their information right on the spot from the russian working-men and soldiers, y'understand, and from the way them fellers is all the time springing _nitchyvo!_ and _da!_ in their articles, mawruss, it's a hundred-to-one proposition that them two words was all the russian they was equipped with to carry on their conversations with them moujiks." "for that matter, the fellers which writes the articles about the french end of the war don't seem to have had a nervous breakdown from studying french, neither," morris observed. "all the french which them fellers puts into their writings is _o.u.i., m'sieu_, which don't look to me to be any more efficient as _c.o.d., m'sieu_, when it comes to finding out from a feller which speaks only french what he thinks about the war." "sure, i know," abe agreed. "but a feller which writes such an article ain't aiming to tell what the french people thinks about the war. he is only writing what _he_ thinks french people is thinking about the war; in fact, mawruss, i've yet got to see the war article which contains as much information about the war and the people fighting in the war as about the feller which is writing the article, and the consequence is that after you put in a whole evening reading such an article you find that you've learned a lot of facts which might be of interest to the war correspondent's family provided he has sent them home money regularly every week and otherwise behaved to them in the past in such a manner that they give a nickel whether he comes back dead or alive." "of course there is exceptions, abe," morris said. "there is them articles which gives an account of the big battle where if the allies would of only gone on fighting for one hour longer, abe, they would of busted through the german line and the war would of been, so to speak, over." "what big battle was that, mawruss?" abe asked. "practically every big battle which a war correspondent has written an article about since the war started," morris replied, "and also while the article don't exactly say so, y'understand, it leads you to believe that if the feller which wrote it would of been running the battle, abe, things would of been very different. then again there is them articles which contains an account of just to prove how cool the english soldiers is, abe, the war correspondent which wrote it heard about a private which had the hiccoughs during the heavy gunfire and asks some one to scare him so that he can cure his hiccoughs, which to me it don't prove so much how cool the english soldiers is as how some editors of magazines seemingly never go to moving-picture vaudeville shows." "editors 'ain't got no time for such nonsense, mawruss," abe said. "they got _enough_ to keep 'em busy busheling the jobs them war correspondents turns in on them. also, mawruss, running a magazine in war-times ain't such a cinch, neither. take in the old times before the war, and if a trunk railroad got wrecked, y'understand, people stayed interested long enough so that even if the article about how the head of the guilty banking concern worked his way up didn't appear till three months afterward, it was still good, but you take it to-day, mawruss, and the chances is that a dozen articles about how leon trotzky used to was a feller by the name braustein which are now slated to be put into the may edition of the magazine is going to be killed along with trotzky somewheres about the middle of next month. in fact, mawruss, things happen so thick and fast in this war that three months from now the only thing that people is going to remember about brest-litovsk and galli-curci will be the hyphens, and they won't be able to say offhand whether or not it was brest-litovsk that had the soprano voice or the peace conference." "well, if a magazine editor gets stumped for something to take the place of an article which went sour on him, abe," morris suggested, "he could always print a story about a beautiful lady spy, and usually does, y'understand, which the way them amateur spy-hunters gets their dope from reading magazines nowadays, abe, if the magazines prints any more of them beautiful lady-spy stories, y'understand, a beautiful face on a lady is soon going to be as suspicious-looking as heidelberg dueling scars on a man, and it's bound to have quite an adverse effect on the complexion-cream business." "but you've got to hand it to these magazine editors, mawruss," abe said. "they ain't afraid to print articles which coppers the advertisements in the back pages. i am reading only this morning an article which it says on page twenty-eight of the magazine that people in berlin is getting made _geheimeraths_ and having eagles hung on them by the kaiser in all shades from red to copenhagen blue for helping out germany in this war by doing things that ain't one, two, six compared with what a feller in new york does when he buys a fifteen-hundred-dollar automobile, y'understand, and yet on pages thirty, thirty-two, thirty-eight, forty, and all the other pages from forty-one to fifty inclusive, the same magazine prints advertisements of automobiles costing from ten thousand dollars downwards, f.o.b. a freight-car in detroit which should ought to be filled with ship-building material f.o.b. newark, n.j." "that ain't the magazine's fault, abe," morris said. "if it wasn't kept going by the money the advertisers pays for such advertisements it wouldn't be able to print them articles telling people it is unpatriotic to buy the automobiles which the advertisement says they should ought to buy." "maybe you're right," abe said, "but in that case when a magazine prints an advertisement by the charoses motor car company that the new charoses inclosed models in designs and luxury of appointment surpass the finest motor-carriages of this country and europe, mawruss, the editor should add in small letters, 'but see page twenty-eight of this magazine,' and then when the reader turns to page twenty-eight and finds out what the article says about pleasure cars in war-times, y'understand, he would think twice, ain't it?" "sure, i know," morris said. "but there's always the danger that the advertiser would also turn to page twenty-eight, so as a business proposition for the magazine, it would be better if the editors stick to them _nitchyvo_ articles, which if the advertisers turn to page twenty-eight and see one of those articles the only thing that would worry them, y'understand, is whether or not the reader is going to get so disgusted that he would throw away the magazine before he reached the advertising section." "that ain't how __i look at it, mawruss," abe protested. "the way a manufacturer has to figure costs so close nowadays, mawruss, anything like these here war articles which gives you an example of how to turn out the finished product with the least amount of labor and material in it, mawruss, should ought to be of great interest to the business man. for instance, you ask one of them live, up-to-date young fellers which is now writing about the war with such a good imitation of being right next to all the big diplomatic secrets that no one would ever suspect how before the war he used to think when he saw the word gavour in the papers that it wasn't spelled right and cost a dollar fifty a portion with hard-boiled egg and chopped onions on the side, y'understand, and we'll say that such a feller is ordered by the magazine _nebich_ which he works for to go and see mr. lloyd george and fill up pages twelve, thirteen, and fourteen of the april, nineteen seventeen, edition with what lloyd george tells him about political conditions in europe. well, the first time he goes to mr. lloyd george's house we will say he gets kicked down the front stoop, on account when he says he represents the _interborough magazine_, the butler thinks he comes from the subscription department instead of the editorial department and didn't pay no attention to the sign 'no canvassers allowed on these premises.' do you suppose that feazes the young feller? _oser a stück!_ he goes straight back home, paints the place where he landed with iodine, y'understand, and writes enough to fill up the whole of page twelve about how, unlike president wilson, mr. lloyd george believes in surrounding himself with strong men. the next time he calls there he gets into the front parlor while he sends up his card, and before the butler could return with the message that mr. lloyd george says he wouldn't be back for some days, y'understand, mrs. lloyd george happens in and wants to know who let him in there and he should go and wait outside in the vestibule, which is good for half a page of how mr. lloyd george's success in politics is due in great measure to the tact and diplomacy of his charming wife. "however, he has still got half of page thirteen and all of page fourteen to fill up, and the next day he lays for mr. lloyd george at the corner of the street and walks along beside him while he tells him he represents the _interborough magazine_, which on account of the young feller's american accent mr. lloyd george gets the idee at first that he is being asked for the price of a night's lodging, y'understand. so he tells the young feller that he should ought to be ashamed not to be fighting for his country. this brings them to the front door, and when mr. lloyd george at last finds out what the young feller really wants, understand me, he says, 'i 'ain't got no time to talk to you now,' which is practically everything the young feller needs to finish up his article. "he sits up all night and writes a full account, as nearly as he could remember it, not having taken no notes at the time, of just what mr. lloyd george said about the 'youth of the country and universal military service,' y'understand, and also how mr. lloyd george spoke at some length of the cabinet minister's life in war-times and what little opportunity it gave for meeting and conversing with friends, quoting mr. lloyd george's very words, which were, as the young feller distinctly recalled, 'much as i would like to do so, i find myself quite unable to speak even to you at any greater length,' and that's the way them articles is written, mawruss." "i wonder how big the article would of been, supposing the young feller had really and truly talked to mr. lloyd george for, say, three to five minutes, abe," morris said. "then the article wouldn't have been an article no more, mawruss," abe concluded. "it would of been a book of four hundred pages by the name: _lloyd george, the cabinet minister and the man_. price, two dollars net." xxii potash and perlmutter on saving daylight, coal, and breath "it ain't a bad scheme at that, mawruss," abe potash said as he laid down the paper which contained an editorial on daylight-saving. "the idee is to get a law passed by the legislature setting the clock ahead one hour in summer-time and get the advantage of the sun rising earlier and setting later so that you don't have to use so much electric light and gas, y'understand, because it's an old saying and a true one, mawruss, that the sunshine's free for everybody." "except the feller in the raincoat business," morris perlmutter added. "also, mawruss," abe continued, evading the interruption, "there's a whole lot of people which 'ain't got enough will power to get up until their folks knock at the door and say it is half past seven and are they going to lay in bed all day, y'understand, which in reality when the clocks are set ahead, mawruss, it would be only half past six." "but don't you suppose that lazy people read the newspapers the same like anybody else, abe?" morris asked. "them fellers would know just as good as the people which is trying to wake them up that it is only half past six under section two a of chapter five fourteen of the laws of nineteen eighteen entitled 'an act to save daylight in the state of new york for cities of the first, second, and third classes,' y'understand, and they will turn right over and go on sleeping until eight o'clock, old style, which is two hours after the sun is scheduled to rise in the almanacs published by kidney remedy companies from information furnished by the united states government in washington." "of course, mawruss, i ain't such a big philosopher like you, y'understand," abe said, "but so far as i could see it ain't going to do a bit of harm if you could get down-town one hour earlier in the summer-time, even though it is going to take an act of the legislature to do it." "and it would also be a good thing if the legislature would pass an act making a half an hour for lunch thirty minutes long instead of ninety minutes, the way some people has got into the habit of figuring it, abe," morris retorted, "but, anyhow, that ain't here nor there. this is a republic, abe, and if the people wants to kid themselves by putting the clock ahead instead of getting up earlier, mawruss, the government could easy oblige them, y'understand, but not even the kaiser and all his generals could make a law that would change the sun from being right straight overhead at twelve o'clock noon, abe." "don't worry about the sun, mawruss," abe said. "the sun would stay on the job, war-times or no war-times. nobody is trying to make laws to kid the sun into getting to work any earlier, mawruss, but even with this war as an argument, there's a whole lot of people which would be foolish enough to claim pay for a time and a half for the first hour they worked if you was to alter your office hours so that they had to come down-town at seven instead of eight, although you did let them go home an hour earlier in the afternoon." "maybe they would," morris said, "but it seems to me, abe, that a great deal of time and money is wasted by legislatures making laws for unreasonable people. for instance, if you change the clocks to save time where are you going to stop? the next thing you know the legislature would be trying to save coal by changing the thermometer in winter so that the freezing-point from december first to march first would be forty-five degrees fahrenheit, and then when people living in houses situated in cities of the first, second, and third classes kept their houses up to a sixty-eight-degree new style, which was fifty-five degrees old style, they would be feeling perfectly comfortable under the statue in such case made and provided. also legislatures would be making laws for the period of the sugar shortage, changing the dials on spring scales by bringing the pounds closer together, so that a pound of sugar would contain sixteen ounces new style, being equivalent to twelve ounces old style." "it ain't a bad idea at that, mawruss," abe said. "it wouldn't be if the same law provided for changing the size of teaspoons and cups, abe," morris said, "and even then there is no way of trusting a bowl of sugar to a sugar hog in the hopes that he wouldn't help himself to four or five spoonfuls, new style, being the equivalent of the three spoonfuls such a _chozzer_ used to be put into his coffee before the passage of the sugar-spoon law, supposing there was such a law." "sure, i know," abe said. "but daylight is different from sugar. the idea is that people should use more of it, mawruss." "i am willing," morris said; "but so far as i could see, there ain't going to be no more daylight after the law goes into effect than there was before, and as for setting the clock one hour ahead, anybody could do that for himself without the legislature passing a law about it." "say!" abe protested. "legislators don't get paid piece-work. they draw an annual salary, mawruss; so if they went to pass a law about it, let them do a little something to earn their wages, mawruss." "don't worry about them fellers not earning their wages, abe," morris said. "legislators is like actors, so long as they got their names in the papers they don't care how hard they work, which if you was to allow them fellers to regulate the hours of daylight by legislation, abe, so as to encourage lazy people to get up earlier, abe, the first thing you know, so as to encourage aviators to fly higher, they would be passing an act suspending the laws of gravity for the period of the war." "well, i believe in that, too, mawruss," abe said. "time enough we should have laws of gravity when we need them, but what is the use going round with a long face before we actually have something to pull a long face over? am i right or wrong, mawruss?" "tell me, abe," morris asked, "what do you think the laws of gravity is, anyhow? no sunday baseball or something?" "well, ain't it?" abe demanded. "so that's your idee of the laws of gravity," morris exclaimed. "say!" abe retorted. "when i got a partner which is a combination of john g. stanchfield, judge brandeis, and the feller what wrote _hamafteach_, i should worry if i don't know every law in the law-books; so go ahead, mawruss, i'm listening. what _is_ the laws of gravity?" "the laws of gravity is this," morris explained. "if you would throw a ball up in the air, why does it come down?" "because i couldn't perform miracles exactly," abe replied, promptly. "neither could the legislature and also president wilson," morris said, "because even though you would understand the laws of gravity, which you don't, the baseball comes down according to the laws of gravity, and even though mr. wilson does understand the laws of supply and demand, y'understand, if he gets busy and sets a low price on coal, potatoes, wheat, or anything else that people is working to produce for a living and not for the exercise there is in it, y'understand, such people would leave off producing it and go into some other line where the prices ain't regulated." "they would be suckers if they didn't," abe commented. "and the consequence would be that sooner or later, on account of such low prices, y'understand, everybody would have the price, but nobody would have the coal," morris said, "and that is what is called the law of supply and demand. it ain't a law which was passed by any legislature, abe. it's a law which made itself, like the law that if you eat too much you'll get stomach trouble, and if you spend too much you'll go broke, and you couldn't sidestep any of them self-made laws by consulting those high-grade crooks which used to specialize in getting million-dollar fees out of finding loopholes in the interstate commerce law and the anti-trust laws, because there's no loopholes in the law of supply and demand." "might there ain't no loopholes in the law of supply and demand, maybe," abe said; "but when mr. wilson gave the order to his coal administrator to lower the price of coal it's my idee that he was trying to punch a few loopholes in the law of the public be damned, which while it was never passed by no legislature, mawruss, it ain't self-made, neither, y'understand, but was made by the producer to do away with this here law of gravity, because under the law of the public be damned prices goes up and they never come down, but they keep on going up and up according to that other law, the law of the sky's the limit, which no doubt a big philosopher like you, mawruss, has heard about already." "in the company of igneramuses, abe," morris said, "a feller could easy get a reputation for being a big philosopher, and not know such an awful lot at that." "i give you right, mawruss," abe agreed, heartily; "but even admitting that you don't know an awful lot, mawruss, there's something in what you say about this here law of supply and demand." "well, now that you indorse it, abe, that makes it, anyhow, an argument," morris commented. "but it looks to me like one of them arguments that is pulled by the supply end to put something over on the demand end," abe continued, "because president wilson knows just so much about the law of supply and demand as the coal operators does, mawruss, and when he fixed the price of coal you could bet your life, mawruss, he made it an even break for the supply people as well as for the demand people." "and what has all this got to do with setting the clock ahead one hour in summer, abe, which was what you was talking about in the first place?" morris demanded. "nothing, except that setting the clock ahead so as to save bills for gas and electric light and limiting the price of coal so as the public couldn't be gouged by the coal operators, so far as i could see, is two dead open and shut propositions, mawruss," abe said, "which of course i admit that i'm an ignorant man and don't know no more laws than a police-court lawyer, y'understand, but at the same time, mawruss, i must got to say the way it looks to me it ain't the ignorant men which is blocking the speed of this war. for instance, who is it when mr. hoover wants to have millions of bushels wheat by using whole-wheat bread that says whole-wheat bread irritates the lining from the elementry canal? the ignorant man? _oser!_ he don't know the elementry canal from the panama canal, and if he did he couldn't tell you whether elementry canals came lined with skinner's satin or mohair or just plain unlined with the seams felled. then, again, who is it that when _any_ order is made by the government which is meant to help along the war takes it like a personal insult direct from mr. wilson? the ignorant man? no, mawruss, it's the feller which thinks that what's the use of having an education if you couldn't seize every opportunity of putting up an argument and using all the long words you've got in your system." "all right, abe," morris said. "i'm converted. rather as sit here and waste the whole morning i'm content that you should pass a law saving daylight if you want to." [illustration: "for instance, who is it that says whole-wheat bread irritates the lining from the elementry canal? the ignorant man? _oser!_"] "don't do me no favors, mawruss," abe commented. "and while you're about it, abe," morris concluded, "if you couldn't save it otherwise, have the legislature pass another law that people should save something else for the duration of the war which they ordinarily couldn't live without." "what's that?" abe asked. "breath," morris said. xxiii potash and perlmutter discuss why is a play-goer? "did you see on the front page of all the newspapers this morning where klaw & erlanger has had another split with the shuberts, mawruss?" abe potash asked, one morning in february. "say," morris perlmutter replied, "i didn't even know they had ever made up since the time they split before, and, furthermore, abe, i think that even if the most important news a feller in the newspaper business could get ahold of to print on his front page was an i.o.m.a. convention, instead of the greatest war in history, y'understand, he would be giving his readers a great big jolt compared with the thrill they get when they read about the troubles people has got in the show business." "maybe _you_ think so, mawruss," abe said, "but klaw & erlanger and the shuberts don't think so, and when you consider that them two concerns control all the theayters in the united states and spends millions of dollars for advertising, mawruss, a feller in the newspaper business don't show such poor judgment to give them boys a little space on the front page whenever they have their semi-annual split." "probably you're right, abe," morris said; "but if it was you and me that had a big fight on with our nearest competitors, abe, advertising it in the newspapers would be the last thing we would be looking for." "the garment business ain't the theayter business, mawruss," abe said. "for instance, being a defendant in a divorce suit don't get any one nowheres in the garment trade, because if a garment-manufacturer would have such a person working for him practically the only effect it would have on his business would be that he would be obliged to neglect it two or three times a day answering telephone inquiries from his wife as to just how he was putting in his time, y'understand, and so far as bringing customers into your place who want to see the lady you got working for you which all the scandal was printed about in the papers, mawruss, it wouldn't make any difference _what_ the evidence was, you couldn't get your trade interested to the extent even of their coming in to snoop with no intentions to buy, y'understand. but you take it in the theayter business and big fortunes has been made out of rotten plays simply because the theayter-going public wanted to see if the leading lady looked like the pictures which was printed of her in the papers at the time the court denied her the custody of the child, understand me." "then you think that there's going to be a big rush on the theayters controlled by klaw & erlanger and the shuberts on account people has been reading in the papers about their scrapping again, abe?" morris inquired. abe shrugged his shoulders. "i don't think nothing of the kind, mawruss," abe said; "but there's a whole lot of fellers in the theayter business which have stories printed about themselves in the sunday papers where it tells how they used to was in business and finally worked their way into the theayter business and what is their favorite luncheon dish, y'understand, till you would think that the reason people went to see plays was because the manager formerly run a clothing-store in milwaukee, wis., and is crazy about liver and bacon, southern style." "that would be, anyhow, as good a reason as because the leading lady's home life didn't come up to her husband's expectations," morris commented. "well, no matter for what reason people do it, mawruss," abe concluded, "buying tickets for a show is as big a gamble as a home-cooked welsh rabbit, in especially if you try to go by the advertisements. for instance, in to-day's paper there is three shows advertised as the biggest hit in town, four of them says they got more laughs in them than any other show in town, and there are a lot of assorted 'biggest hits in years,' 'biggest hits since the "music master,"' and 'biggest hits in new york,' so what chance does an outsider stand of knowing which advertisements is o.k. and which is just pushing the stickers?" "the plan that i got is never to go on a theayter till the show has been running for at least three months, abe," morris advised. "but if everybody else followed the same plan, mawruss," abe commented, "what show is going to run three months?" "say!" morris exclaimed. "there would always be plenty of nosy people in new york city which 'ain't got no more to do with their money than to find out if what the crickets has got to say in the newspapers about the new plays is the truth or just kindness of heart, y'understand." "from what i know of newspaper crickets, mawruss," abe said, "when they praise a show they may be mistaken, but they're never kind-hearted." "if a play runs three months, abe, it don't make no difference to me whether the newspaper crickets praised it because they had kind hearts or knocked it because they had stomach trouble," morris said, "i am willing to risk my two dollars, _anyhow_." "maybe it would be better all around, mawruss, if the newspaper crickets printed what they think about a play the day after it closes instead of the day after it opens," abe observed, "and then they might have something to go by. as it is, a whole lot of newspaper crickets is like doctors which says there is absolutely nothing the matter with the patient only ten days before the automobile cortège leaves his late residence." "but there is more of them like doctors which says that the patient may live two days and he may live two weeks, y'understand, and four weeks later he is put in class one and leaves for camp upton with the next contingent," morris said. "take even 'hamlet,' abe, which i can remember since 'way before the spanish war already, and i bet yer when that show was put on there was some crickets which said that john drew or whoever it was which first took 'hamlet' did the best he could with a rotten part and headed the article, 'john drew scores in dull play at fifty-first street theater.'" "even so, mawruss," abe said, "that wouldn't feaze j.h. woods or whoever the manager was which first put on 'hamlet,' because we would say, for example, that the cricket of the new york _star-gazette_ said, 'hamlet' would be an a-number-one play if it had been written by a pants-presser in his off moments, but as the serious work of a professional play-designer it ain't worth a moment's consideration; also the cricket of the new york _record_ says, from the liberal applause at the end of the third act 'hamlet' might have been the most brilliant drama since 'the easiest way' instead of a play full of clack-trap scenes and which will positively meet the _capora_ it deserves, y'understand. furthermore, mawruss, we would say that every other paper says the same thing and also roasts the play, y'understand, so what does this here woods do? does he lay right down and notify the operators that under the by-laws of the actors' union they should please consider that they have received the usual two weeks' notice that the show will close the next night? _oser a stück!_ the next day he puts in every paper for two hundred and twenty-five dollars an advertisement: fifty-first street theater j.h. woods ..... lessee j.h. woods presents 'hamlet' the season's sensation! an a-number-one play.--_new york star-gazette._ most brilliant drama since 'the easiest way.'--_new york record._ john drew scores heavily.--_new york evening moon._" "well, i'll tell you," morris said; "while i admit that the theayter crickets is smart fellers and knows all about the rules and regulations for writing plays, y'understand, so that they can tell at a glance during the first performance if the audience is laughing in violation of what is considered good play construction or crying because the show is sad in a spot where a play shouldn't ought to be sad if the man who wrote it had known his business, y'understand, still at the same time theayter crickets is to me in the same class with these here diet experts. take a dinner which one of them diet experts approves of, abe, and the food is o.k., the kitchen is clean, the cooking is just right as to time and temperature of the oven, there's the proper proportions of water and solids, and in fact it's a first-class a-number-one meal from the standpoint of every person which has got anything to do with it, excepting the feller which eats it, and the only objection _he's_ got to it is that it tastes rotten." "and that would be quite enough to put a restaurant out of business if it served only good meals according to the opinion of diet experts, mawruss, because diet experts don't buy meals, mawruss, they only inspect them," abe commented. "and even if theayter crickets did pay for their tickets, abe," morris continued, "there ain't enough of them to support one of these here little theayters which has got such a small seating-capacity that neither the exits nor the kind of plays they put on has to comply with the fire laws, y'understand. but that ain't here or there, abe. a theayter cricket is a cricket and not an appraiser, y'understand. he goes to a play to judge the play and not the prospective box-office receipts, abe, and if on account of his knocking a play which would otherwise make money for the manager and do a lot of harm to the people which goes to the theayter, such a show is put out of business, abe, then the theayter cricket has done a good job." "sure, i know, mawruss," abe said. "but it's just as likely to be the other way about, which you take these here shows the crickets gets all worked up over because they are written by foreigners from sweden, mawruss, where a married woman gets to feeling that her husband, her home, and her children ain't exciting enough, y'understand, so she either elopes or commits suicide, understand me, and many a business man has come to breakfast without shaving himself on the day after taking his wife to see such a show and caught her looking at him in an awful peculiar way, y'understand. then there is other shows which crickets thinks a whole lot of, where a young feller which couldn't get down to business and earn a decent living puts it all over the man who has been financially successful, y'understand, and plenty of young fellers which gets home all hours of the night and couldn't hold a job long enough to remember the telephone number of the firm they work for, comes away from the show feeling that they ain't getting a square deal from their father who has never done a thing to help them in all this life except to feed, clothe, and educate them for twenty-odd years." "well, such plays anyhow make you think, abe," morris said. "whereas, when you come away from one of them musical pieces, what do you have to show for it, abe?" "a good night's rest, mawruss," abe said, "which no one never laid awake all night wondering if his wife or his son has got peculiar notions about not being appreciated from seeing this here frank tinney talking to the feller that runs the orchestra in the winter garden, mawruss." "then what is your idee of a good show, anyway?" morris inquired. "well, i'll tell you, mawruss, a good show is a show which you got to pay so much money to a speculator for a decent seat, y'understand, that you couldn't enjoy it after you get there," abe concluded. "and that is a good show." xxiv potash and perlmutter discuss society--new york, human, and american "i seen max feinrubin in the subway this morning," abe potash said to his partner, morris perlmutter. "he broke two fingers on his left hand last week." "why don't he let the shipping-clerk do up the packing-cases?" morris commented. "he didn't break his hand on no packing-case," abe said. "well, what _did_ he break it on, then?" morris asked. "the shipping-clerk," abe replied, "which the feller said that this war is a war over property, and every nation that is in it is just as bad as germany, so feinrubin asked him did he claim that the united states was just as bad as germany and he said 'yes,' and afterward he said that feinrubin would hear from him later through a lawyer." "and that is how feinrubin broke his two fingers," morris said. "well, as a matter of fact, up to that point feinrubin had only broke one finger, mawruss," abe said, "but just before the shipping-clerk went out of the door he said that president wilson was an enemy to society, so feinrubin broke the other finger." "serves feinrubin right," morris said. "there he was in his own shipping-room with hammers and screw-drivers laying around, and he has to break his fingers yet." "you probably would've done the same thing," abe retorted, "if we would got for a shipping-clerk a socialist who puts up such arguments." "well, i don't know," morris said. "a socialist would naturally say that this is a war over property because it don't make no difference if it would be a war, an earthquake, a cyclone, or a blizzard, to a socialist all such troubles is property troubles, just as to a stomach specialist every pain is appendicitis, so if our shipping-clerk would give me a line of argument like that, abe, instead i would break my fingers on him, y'understand, i would simply dock him fifty cents as an argument that if he wants to talk socialism, he should talk it in his own time and not mine." "but the feller had no business to tell feinrubin that president wilson was an enemy to society," abe protested. "say!" morris exclaimed. "for that matter i am an enemy to society, too." "never mind," abe declared. "lots of society fellers which never done a day's work in their lives has gone down to washington to give the country the benefit of their experience, mawruss, and it's surprising how many society ladies is also turning right in and giving up their time to the red cross and so forth." "sure, i know," morris said. "but there is lots of them which don't, abe, and you take it on a cold sunday in february when the superintendent of the apartment-house where you live is keeping the temperature of your flat below sixty-eight degrees by not letting it get up to fifty, y'understand, and it would make a bolshevik out of the president of a first national bank to see mrs. j. van rensselaer-this and mrs. h. twombley-the other on the front page of the illustrated sunday supplement, photographed at pallum beach on lincoln's birthday in practically a pair of stockings apiece, y'understand, which if them people want to wear clothes in florida that if any one wore them around new york if they didn't get arrested they would anyhow get pneumonia, y'understand, that's _their_ business, abe, but what i don't understand is, why should they want to advertise it?" "well, what is the use of being in society if you couldn't rub it in on people who ain't?" abe asked. "but this is a democracy, abe," morris said, "so who cares if he is in society or not?" "don't fool yourself, mawruss," abe said. "there wouldn't be no object for society ladies to advertise that they are in society if they didn't know that reading such an advertisement would make a whole lot of people feel sore which wants to get into society, but couldn't." "and such people calls themselves americans?" morris said. "they not only calls themselves americans, but they _are_ americans," abe said. "which the main talking points of any one who advertises that they are in society, whether they do it through publicity in the newspapers, by marrying or dying, y'understand, is that the bride or the deceased, as the case may be, was a descendant of txvee van rensselaer ten eyck who came in america in sixteen fifty-three and that another great-great-grandfather opened the first ready-to-wear-clothing factory on the american continent in sixteen sixty-six." "of course, abe, you may be right," morris said, "but it seems to me i read it somewheres how a whole lot of people which is now in society qualified by settling in pittsburg along about the time judge gary first met andrew carnegie." "sure, i know," abe said. "but millionaires can get into society on a cash basis, _nunc pro tunc_, as of may first, sixteen twenty, as the lawyers say, mawruss, which if a lady is trying to butt into society on the grounds that her great-great-grandfather, hyman de peyster van rensselaer, _olav hasholom_, came over on the _mayflower_ and bought all the land on which the town of hockbridge, mass., now stands from the indians in sixteen sixty-six for two hundred dollars, y'understand, it wouldn't do her chances a bit of harm if her husband came over on the white star line, third class, just so long as he bought u.s. steel when it was down to thirty and a quarter in nineteen five and held on to it till it touched one hundred and twenty, y'understand." "then what used to was the 'four hundred' must have added a whole lot of ciphers to it in the last few years, abe," morris commented. "ciphers is right," abe said. "but that four-hundred figure is a thing of the past along with the population of detroit before the invention of the automobile, mawruss, and i guess, nowadays, society must be running the knights of pythias and the royal arcanum pretty close on the size of its membership, mawruss." "for my part, abe," morris said, "i would just as lieve join either of them societies in preference to society. take, for instance, these here vanderbilts which they have been in society for years already, and what benefit do they get from it? it isn't like as if one of them would be in the wholesale clothing business, for instance, and could get a friend to use his influence with a retailer by saying: 'mr. goldman, this is my friend, mr. vanderbilt. him and me was in society for years, already, and anything in his line you could use would be a personal favor to me,' because any connection with the clothing business, wholesale or retail, bars you out of society unless the statue of limitations has run against it for at least four generations." "still, it's a big help to be in society for certain businesses, mawruss," abe said. "take it in our line, mawruss, and a feller which was in society could make a fortune duplicating for the popular-price trade an expensive line of garments such as you would be apt to see at an affair which was run off by somebody 'way up in society." "that ain't a bad idee, neither, abe," morris said; "and then, abe, instead of people asking what is the big idee when they see a picture of mrs. yosel van rensselaer lydig in the illustrated sunday supplement they could read on it, 'our leader--the mrs. yosel van rensselaer lydig gown; regular sizes, nine fifty; stouts, ten dollars,' which there is no use letting all that good publicity going to waste, abe, so if a garment-manufacturer couldn't utilize it, a cigar wholesaler could vary his line of cigars called after actresses by naming one of them 'the mrs. yosel van rensselaer lydig, a mild and aromatic three-for-a-quarter smoke for five cents.'" "i'm afraid society people wouldn't be willing to stand for such a thing even in war-times, mawruss," abe said. "well, i only make the suggestion, abe, because some states has already passed laws compelling everybody to find a job for the duration of the war, y'understand," morris said, "and if the courts should hold that sitting on the sand at pallum beach and having a photograph taken ain't holding a job within the meaning of the statue in such cases made and provided, abe, maybe the addition of a little advertising matter to the picture would be enough to keep some society lady out of jail on the ground that she is working as a model for advertising pictures, y'understand, although, for my part, abe, i am willing to see anybody who tries to get publicity as a society person go to jail whether they work or not." "why so?" abe asked. "because such publicity is only the start, abe," morris said. "it is the first stages of what is the trouble in germany to-day yet. for years already the society fellers of germany, headed by the chief society feller of germany, the kaiser, has been getting their pictures into the paper dressed in soldiers' uniforms till it got to be firmly fixed in the minds of people which wasn't society fellers that the latest up-to-the-minute idee was wearing a soldier's uniform. also, abe, along with such publicity goes the idee that anything society fellers does is o.k., and it is this just-watch-our-smoke advice of the german society fellers to the poor german people, _nebich_, which has changed the motto of germany from '_hei-lie! hei-lio! hei-lie! hei-lio! bei uns, geht's immer so!_' to '_deutschland, deutschland ueber alles_,' and that is what brought on the war, abe." "you mean to say that when mrs. mosha van rensselaer has her picture taken at pallum beach the intention is the same as when the kaiser used to got printed a photograph of himself as colonel of the one hundred and first pomeranian regiment." "toy pomeranian or regular size, abe," morris said, "it don't make no difference, the intention in both cases was to get publicity for the fact that the sitter was a leader of society, abe, and so far as the kaiser was concerned, he soon got the idee that just as the kaiser was the leader of society of germans, y'understand, so germany was the leader of the society of nations, and therefore that germany should have the biggest army, the biggest navy, the biggest colonies, and the biggest territory." "and she's going to get the biggest licking, mawruss," abe interrupted. "she's got it coming to her," morris said, "and then when we've showed germany that she ain't such an international society leader like she thought she was, y'understand, the germans which was rank outsiders in germany society is going to look up a lot of old illustrated sunday supplements, and when the trial comes off before the berlin county court of general sessions the district attorney is going to offer in evidence that well-known picture of the kaiser and his six sons, and, without leaving the box, the jury will find a verdict of guilty of being german society leaders in the first degree. also, abe, pictures will turn up of one of the kaiser's hunting parties, and only the people which couldn't be identified on account of being at the edge of the photograph will escape." "but you don't think anything like that would happen to our society fellers, mawruss?" abe said. "i think they're perfectly safe for the next hundred years or so, abe," morris said, "but, just the same, they should take example by the society leaders over in russland, and learn to drink coffee from the saucer and eat with the knife while there is still time." xxv potash and perlmutter discuss this here income tax "didn't i beg you that you shouldn't give to a lawyer that claim against immerglick which we had for the money we loaned him five years ago?" abe potash said to his partner, morris perlmutter, as he pored over form 1040, revised january, 1918, which bore in large black letters the heading, "individual income-tax return for calendar year 1917." "ten hundred and fifty dollars he paid us, and now i don't know should i stick it under a, b, c, d, e, or f." "i suppose you would rather see immerglick get away with the whole sum as pay eight per cent. of it to the government," morris commented. "i would give the government not only eight per cent., but eighteen per cent., mawruss, if they would only send round their representative and fill out this here paper themselves, and leave me in peace," abe said. "i 'ain't done nothing for a month now but write down figures on this rotten blank and scratch them out again, and what is going to be the end of it i don't know." "all the government asks of you, abe, is to be honest," morris said. "sure, i know," abe replied. "but to be honest about fixing up this here income-tax return, mawruss, you've got to be a lawyer, a certified public accountant, a mind-reader, and one of these here handwriting experts who knows how to write the whole of the constitution of the united states on the back of a two-cent stamp, which take, for instance, 'n. contributions to charitable organizations, &c. (enter below name and address of each organization and amount paid to each),' and while i 'ain't given away a million dollars to charity in nineteen seventeen exactly, i can see where next year when somebody comes round to _schnoor_ from me five dollars for the bella hirshkind home for aged and indignant females in the borough of the bronx, city of new york, y'understand, he's going to get turned down on the grounds that mr. mcadoo only provided three lines for all charitable contributions and i'm saving them up for the red cross, the s.p.c.a., and one orphan asylum with an awful short name." "did it occur to you that you could give the bella hirshkind home four dollars and sixty cents and leave it out of your income-tax return altogether?" morris suggested. "listen!" abe said. "i ain't trying to invent ways of getting around what looks like the only good feature of this here income-tax return, mawruss. if mr. mcadoo or president wilson or whoever it was that fixed up this here paper thought that the average man didn't need more as three lines to put down his charities in, mawruss, who am i that i should set my opinion up against theirs? am i right or wrong?" "well, for that matter, abe," morris said, "if you are up against it for space to fill in about the bella hirshkind home, how many lines did mr. mcadoo leave me to write in about you and feigenbaum?" "me and feigenbaum?" abe repeated. "sure!" morris said. "the time you and him had the argument should it be pronounced bol_shev_iki or bolshe_vee_ki." "well, i was right, wasn't i?" abe demanded. "certainly you were right," morris replied. "but the question is, do i put in the fifteen-hundred-dollar order he canceled on us under 'explanation of losses of business property' or under 'j. general deductions not reported on page three'?" "put it in the same place where i would put the money which i lost from having got it a partner which wastes dollars' and dollars' worth of time on me every day by arguing about things which arguing couldn't help," abe advised. "because with this here income-tax proposition, mawruss, if you are going to waste so much time arguing about what you have lost that you couldn't be able to remember by april first what you made, y'understand, you would lose in addition a thousand dollars more and fifty per cent. of the amount of the tax due, and you couldn't have the consolation of blaming it on your partner, neither." "it seems to me, abe," morris commented, "that the government makes a big mistake limiting you to april first, because i already figured my income tax out six times and it comes to a hundred dollars more every time, which if they would only give me till, say, the first of august, y'understand, i might be able to figure it out a couple dozen times more and pay the government some real big money." "with me, mawruss," abe said with a sigh, "sometimes it's more and sometimes it's less, but it only goes to show how if a business man is going to have such a big difference of opinion with himself, mawruss, what kind of a difference of opinion is he going to have with the collector of internal revenue? so i guess the only thing for me to do is to start all over again and this time i'll multiply the result by two, because if i've got to pay anything extra to the government, y'understand, i'd just as lieve do it without getting indicted first." "say!" morris exclaimed. "if they started in to indict everybody which is going to figure up their income tax wrong this year, abe, the government would got to draft a couple of million grand-jurymen, and then lay off the workers on cantonments and put them to building jails." "and labor is scarce enough as it is, mawruss, when you figure the hundreds of thousands of sitsons of this country which has been taken out of active business life during the past sixty days while they were engaged in making up their income-tax returns," abe said. "well, that will simplify things a whole lot next year, abe," morris declared, "particularly in the excessive-profits department, because owing to the time they spent in doping out what excessive profits they had last year, the business men of the country won't have any profits this year, excessive or otherwise." "i should only make enough this year to pay a certified public accountant for fixing up my income-tax return next year, mawruss, and i shall be satisfied," abe said, "because who could tell, maybe next year, mawruss, the government wouldn't stop at wanting to know what your income is and how you made it, but would also insist on knowing how you spent it after it was made, which if business is so bad next year on account of the war, mawruss, it may be that the government, finding that they couldn't raise enough money with an income tax and an excessive-profits tax, will pass a law calling for a personal-extravagance tax." "they could get a lot of revenue that way," morris admitted. "yes, and they could get it coming and going," abe said. "take, for instance, the hotel and restaurant hat-check business, which i seen it in the papers that a partnership of hat-checkers got into a dissolution lawsuit the other day, and it come out that they made a quarter of a million dollars profit in less than five years, y'understand. now in a case like that, mawruss, the government couldn't tax them robbers an additional eight per cent., because hat-checking ain't a profession under 'a. income from professions,' any more than burglary is. neither could the government soak them highwaymen for an excessive-profits tax, because hat-checking ain't a business with an invested capital, not unless you count as capital, _chutzpah_, gall and a nerve like a rhinoceros. so the only way the government could collect on tips to hat-checkers would be to tax the tipper fifty per cent. and put it up to the hat-checker to collect it at the source from the feller who is foolish enough to give up his money that way." "sure, i know," morris said. "but that wouldn't be a personal-extravagance tax, abe. that's what i would call a tax on personal cowardice. it's the kind of a tax the government could soak a feller which 'ain't got enough backbone to say 'no' when a head waiter suggests celery and olives at seventy-five cents a throw." "whatever it is, i'm in favor of it, mawruss," abe said. "also it should ought to be collected from the feller who lets the barber get away with ten cents extra for a teaspoonful of hair tonic, and as for face massages, there should be a flat rate of five dollars for each offense." "_aber_ don't you think that a face massage is its own punishment, abe?" morris asked. "so is attempting suicide," abe said. "but people go to jail for it, mawruss." "well, anyhow, before the government goes to work and taxes people for that part of their income which they spend foolishly, abe," morris said, "they should get busy under the present income-tax law and prevent anybody from getting away with anything under 'j. general deductions' by claiming a drawback or bad debts arising out of personal loans, which the government is losing thousands and thousands of dollars on many a week-kneed business man who knew when he loaned the money to his wife's relations that he would never even have the nerve enough to ask them to renew their notes even. then there is other business men which has got a lot of customers on their books who couldn't get credit except by paying such a high price for their goods that if they bust up there would still be a profit, even if they settled for thirty cents on the dollar, and when them business men start to make up their income-tax returns they don't hesitate for a moment to charge off the balance under 'b. bad debts arising from sales (see instructions).'" "i suppose such business men clears their consciences with the thought that if they had lost the money legitimately playing pinochle, mawruss, the government wouldn't let them deduct a cent," abe suggested. "and in a way, mawruss, they are right, because while you couldn't charge off pinochle losses, i understand mr. mcadoo holds that you've got to pay income tax on pinochle profits." "that only goes to show how much mr. mcadoo knows about pinochle, abe," morris said, "because unless, _gott soll huten_, a feller should drop dead immediately after he cashes in his chips, y'understand, money which you win at pinochle ain't an asset, abe, it's a loan, and sooner or later you are going to pay it back with interest." "_you_ argue with mr. mcadoo!" abe advised him. "why, as i understand it, if you are having the game up at your own house, mawruss, and you happen to draw out ahead you ain't even allowed to deduct nothing for electric light and the delicatessen supper, so strict the government is." "but do you mean to say that if you have a regular saturday-night pinochle game and you make a few dollars one saturday night and drop it the next and so forth, abe, that the government wouldn't allow you to deduct your losings from your winnings?" morris asked. "that's the idee," abe said. "when you cash in at the end of each game, mawruss, that constitutes a separate transaction under 'h. other income (including income from partnerships, fiduciaries, except that reported under e, f, and g),' and you don't get no allowances for nothing." "well, that settles it," morris said. "for the fiscal year january first, nineteen eighteen, to december thirty-first, nineteen eighteen, i play pinochle two-handed with my wife, abe, and then i've always got the come-back that i answered 'no' to question eight, 'did your wife (or husband) or dependent children derive income from sources independent of your own?'" "i don't think that mr. mcadoo would hold that you've got to report money which you win from your wife," abe said. "why not?" morris asked. "because mr. mcadoo is a married man himself, mawruss, and he knows that such moneys ain't income," abe concluded. "they're paper profits, and you never collect on them." the end bill nye's history of the united states illustrated by f. opper thompson & thomas, chicago. copyright, 1894, by j. b. lippincott company. * * * * * [illustration] preface facts in a nude state are not liable criminally, any more than bright and beautiful children commit a felony by being born thus; but it is the solemn duty of those having these children in charge to put appropriate, healthful, and even attractive apparel upon them at the earliest possible moment. it is thus with facts. they are the frame-work of history, not the drapery. they are like the cold, hard, dishevelled, damp, and uncomfortable body under the knife of the demonstrator, not the bright and bounding boy, clothed in graceful garments and filled to every tingling capillary with a soul. we, each of us, the artist and the author, respect facts. we have never, either of us, said an unkind word regarding facts. but we believe that they should not be placed before the public exactly as they were born. we want to see them embellished and beautified. that is why this history is written. certain facts have come into the possession of the artist and author of this book regarding the history of the republic down to the present day. we find, upon looking over the records and documents on file in the various archives of state and nation, that they are absolutely beyond question, and it is our object to give these truthfully. these rough and untidy, but impregnable truths, dressed in the sweet persuasive language of the author, and fluted, embossed, embroidered, and embellished by the skilful hand of the artist, are now before you. history is but the record of the public and official acts of human beings. it is our object, therefore, to humanize our history and deal with people past and present; people who ate and possibly drank; people who were born, flourished, and died; not grave tragedians, posing perpetually for their photographs. if we succeed in this way, and administer historical truth in the smooth capsule of the cartoonist and the commentator, we are content. if not, we know whose fault it will be, but will not get mad and swear about it. bill nye. fred'k b. opper. * * * * * [illustration: bill nye's field of historic research.] chapter i. page the discovery of america 13 chapter ii. other discoveries--wet and dry 23 chapter iii. the thirteen original colonies 36 chapter iv. the plymouth colony 47 chapter v. drawbacks of being a colonist 55 chapter vi. the episode of the charter oak 62 chapter vii. the discovery of new york 72 chapter viii. the dutch at new amsterdam 82 chapter ix. settlement of the middle states 92 chapter x. the early aristocracy 102 chapter xi. intercolonial and indian wars 110 chapter xii. personality of washington 124 chapter xiii. contrasts with the present day 131 chapter xiv. the revolutionary war 142 chapter xv. benjamin franklin, ll.d., phg, f.r.s., etc. 152 chapter xvi. the critical period 160 chapter xvii. the beginning of the end 170 chapter xviii. page the close of the revolution 181 chapter xix. the first president 191 chapter xx. the war with canada 203 chapter xxi. the advance of the republic 212 chapter xxii. more difficulties straightened out 222 chapter xxiii. the websters 233 chapter xxiv. befo' the wah--causes which led to it--masterly grasp of the subject shown by the author 243 chapter xxv. bull run and other battles 252 chapter xxvi. some more fratricidal strife 263 chapter xxvii. still more fraternal bloodshed, on principle--outing features disappear, and give place to strained relations between combatants, who begin to mix things 274 chapter xxviii. last year of the disagreeable war 284 chapter xxix. too much liberty in places and not enough elsewhere.--thoughts on the late war--who is the bigger ass, the man who will not forgive and forget, or the mawkish and moist eyed sniveller who wants to do that all the time? 297 chapter xxx. reconstruction without pain--administrations of johnson and grant 305 chapter xxxi. closing chronicles 317 appendix 329 [illustration] chapter i. the discovery of america. it was a beautiful evening at the close of a warm, luscious day in old spain. it was such an evening as one would select for trysting purposes. the honeysuckle gave out the sweet announcement of its arrival on the summer breeze, and the bulbul sang in the dark vistas of olive-trees,--sang of his love and his hope, and of the victory he anticipated in the morrow's bulbul-fight, and the plaudits of the royal couple who would be there. the pink west paled away to the touch of twilight, and the soft zenith was sown with stars coming like celestial fire-flies on the breast of a mighty meadow. across the dusk, with bowed head, came a woman. her air was one of proud humility. it was the air of royalty in the presence of an overruling power. it was isabella. she was on her way to confession. she carried a large, beautifully-bound volume containing a memorandum of her sins for the day. ever and anon she would refer to it, but the twilight had come on so fast that she could not read it. [illustration: isabella at confessional.] reaching the confessional, she kneeled, and, by the aid of her notes, she told off to the good father and receptacle of the queen's trifling sins, fernando de talavera, how wicked she had been. when it was over and the queen had risen to go, fernando came forth, and with a solemn obeisance said,-"may it please your majesty, i have to-day received a letter from my good friend the prior of the franciscan convent of st. mary's of rabida in andalusia. with your majesty's permission, i will read it to you." "proceed," exclaimed isabella, gravely, taking a piece of crochet-work from her apron and seating herself comfortably near the dim light. "it is dated the sixth month and tenth day of the month, and reads as follows: "dear brother: "this letter will be conveyed unto your hands by the bearer hereof. his name is christopher columbus, a native of genoa, who has been living on me for two years. but he is a good man, devout and honest. he is willing to work, but i have nothing to do in his line. times, as you know, are dull, and in his own profession nothing seems to be doing. "he is by profession a discoverer. he has been successful in the work where he has had opportunities, and there has been no complaint so far on the part of those who have employed him. everything he has ever discovered has remained that way, so he is willing to let his work show for itself. "should you be able to bring this to the notice of her majesty, who is tender of heart, i would be most glad; and should her most gracious majesty have any discovering to be done, or should she contemplate a change or desire to substitute another in the place of the present discoverer, she will do well to consider the qualifications of my friend. "very sincerely and fraternally thine, "etc., etc." the queen inquired still further regarding columbus, and, taking the letter, asked talavera to send him to the royal sitting-room at ten o'clock the following day. when columbus arose the next morning he found a note from the royal confessor, and, without waiting for breakfast, for he had almost overcome the habit of eating, he reversed his cuffs, and, taking a fresh handkerchief from his valise and putting it in his pocket so that the corners would coyly stick out a little, he was soon on his way to the palace. he carried also a small globe wrapped up in a newspaper. the interview was encouraging until the matter of money necessary for the trip was touched upon. his majesty was called in, and spoke sadly of the public surplus. he said that there were one hundred dollars still due on his own salary, and the palace had not been painted for eight years. he had taken orders on the store till he was tired of it. "our meat bill," said he, taking off his crown and mashing a hornet on the wall, "is sixty days overdue. we owe the hired girl for three weeks; and how are we going to get funds enough to do any discovering, when you remember that we have got to pay for an extra session this fall for the purpose of making money plenty?" [illustration: columbus at court.] but isabella came and sat by him in her winning way, and with the moistened corner of her handkerchief removed a spot of maple syrup from the ermine trimming of his reigning gown. she patted his hand, and, with her gentle voice, cheered him and told him that if he would economize and go without cigars or wine, in less than two hundred years he would have saved enough to fit columbus out. a few weeks later he had saved one hundred and fifty dollars in this way. the queen then went at twilight and pawned a large breastpin, and, although her chest was very sensitive to cold, she went without it all the following winter, in order that columbus might discover america before immigration set in here. too much cannot be said of the heroism of queen isabella and the courage of her convictions. a man would have said, under such circumstances, that there would be no sense in discovering a place that was not popular. why discover a place when it is so far out of the way? why discover a country with no improvements? why discover a country that is so far from the railroad? why discover, at great expense, an entirely new country? but isabella did not stop to listen to these croaks. in the language of the honorable jeremiah m. rusk, "she seen her duty and she done it." that was isabella's style. columbus now began to select steamer-chairs and rugs. he had already secured the niña, pinta, and santa maria, and on the 3d of august, 1492, he sailed from palos. isabella brought him a large bunch of beautiful flowers as he was about to sail, and ferdinand gave him a nice yachting-cap and a spicy french novel to read on the road. he was given a commission as viceroy or governor of all the lands he might discover, with hunting and shooting privileges on same. [illustration: columbus's steamer-chair.] he stopped several weeks at the canary islands, where he and his one hundred and twenty men rested and got fresh water. he then set out sailing due west over an unknown sea to blaze the way for liberty. soon, however, his men began to murmur. they began also to pick on columbus and occupy his steamer-chair when he wanted to use it himself. they got to making chalk-marks on the deck and compelling him to pay a shilling before he could cross them. some claimed that they were lost and that they had been sailing around for over a week in a circle, one man stating that he recognized a spot in the sea that they had passed eight times already. finally they mutinied, and started to throw the great navigator overboard, but he told them that if they would wait until the next morning he would tell them a highly amusing story that he heard just before he left palos. thus his life was saved, for early in the morning the cry of "land ho!" was heard, and america was discovered. a saloon was at once started, and the first step thus taken towards the foundation of a republic. from that one little timid saloon, with its family entrance, has sprung the magnificent and majestic machine which, lubricated with spoils and driven by wind, gives to every american to-day the right to live under a government selected for him by men who make that their business. columbus discovered america several times after the 12th of october, 1492, and finally, while prowling about looking for more islands, discovered south america near the mouth of the orinoco. he was succeeded as governor by francisco de bobadilla, who sent him back finally in chains. thus we see that the great are not always happy. there is no doubt that millions of people every year avoid many discomforts by remaining in obscurity. [illustration: columbus having trouble with his sailors.] the life of columbus has been written by hundreds of men, both in this country and abroad, but the foregoing facts are distilled from this great biographical mass by skilful hands, and, like the succeeding pages, will stand for centuries unshaken by the bombardment of the critic, while succeeding years shall try them with frost and thaw, and the tide of time dash high against their massive front, only to recede, quelled and defeated.[1] [footnote 1: the author acknowledges especially the courtesy of san diego colon columbus, a son of the great navigator, whose book "historiadores primitivos" was so generously loaned the author by relatives of young columbus. i have refrained from announcing in the foregoing chapter the death of columbus, which occurred may 20, 1506, at valladolid, the funeral taking place from his late residence, because i dislike to give needless pain. b. n.] [illustration:] chapter ii. other discoveries--wet and dry. america had many other discoverers besides columbus, but he seems to have made more satisfactory arrangements with the historians than any of the others. he had genius, and was also a married man. he was a good after-dinner speaker, and was first to use the egg trick, which so many after-dinner speakers have since wished they had thought of before chris did. in falsifying the log-book in order to make his sailors believe that they had not sailed so far as they had, columbus did a wrong act, unworthy of his high notions regarding the pious discovery of this land. the artist has shown here not only one of the most faithful portraits of columbus and his crooked log-book, but the punishment which he should have received. the man on the left is columbus; history is concealed just around the corner in a loose wrapper. spain at this time regarded the new land as a vast jewelry store in charge of simple children of the forest who did not know the value of their rich agricultural lands or gold-ribbed farms. spain, therefore, expected to exchange bone collar-buttons with the children of the forest for opals as large as lima beans, and to trade fiery liquids to them for large gold bricks. the montezumas were compelled every little while to pay a freight-bill for the spanish confidence man. ponce de leon had started out in search of the hot springs of arkansas, and in 1512 came in sight of florida. he was not successful in his attempt to find the fountain of youth, and returned an old man so deaf that in the language of the hoosier poet referring to his grandfather,- "so remarkably deaf was my grandfather squeers that he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears to even hear thunder, and oftentimes then he was forced to request it to thunder again." balboa crossed the isthmus of darien, and, rolling up his pantalettes, waded into the pacific ocean and discovered it in the name of spain. it was one of the largest and wettest discoveries ever made, and, though this occurred over three centuries ago, spain is still poor. balboa, in discovering the pacific, did so according to the spanish custom of discovery, viz., by wading into it with his naked sword in one hand and the banner of castile, sometimes called castile's hope (see appendix), in the other. he and his followers waded out so as to discover all they could, and were surprised to discover what is now called the undertow. [illustration: balboa drying his clothes.] the artist has shown the great discoverer most truthfully as he appeared after he had discovered and filed on the ocean. no one can look upon this picture for a moment and confuse balboa, the discoverer of the pacific, with kope elias, who first discovered in the mountains of north carolina what is now known as moonshine whiskey. de narvaez in 1528 undertook to conquer florida with three hundred hands. he also pulled considerable grass in his search for gold. finally he got to the gulf and was wrecked. they were all related mostly to narvaez, and for two weeks they lived on their relatives, but later struck shore--four of them--and lived more on a vegetable diet after that till they struck the pacific ocean, which now belonged to spain. de soto also undertook the conquest of florida after this, and took six hundred men with him for the purpose. they wandered through the gulf states to the mississippi, enduring much, and often forced to occupy the same room at night. de soto in 1541 discovered the mississippi river, thus adding to the moisture collection of spain. after trying to mortgage his discovery to eastern capitalists, he died, and was buried in the quiet bosom of the great father of waters. thus once more the list of fatalities was added to and the hunger for gold was made to contribute a discovery. menendez later on founded in 1565 the colony of st. augustine, the oldest town in the united states. there are other towns that look older, but it is on account of dissipation. new york looks older, but it is because she always sat up later of nights than st. augustine did. cortez was one of the coarsest men who visited this country. he did not marry any wealthy american girls, for there were none, but he did everything else that was wrong, and his unpaid laundry-bills are still found all over the spanish-speaking countries. he was especially lawless and cruel to the peruvians: "recognizing the peruvian at once by his bark," he would treat him with great indignity, instead of using other things which he had with him. cortez had a way of capturing the most popular man in a city, and then he would call on the tax-payers to redeem him on the instalment plan. most everybody hated cortez, and when he held religious services the neighbors did not attend. the religious efforts made by cortez were not successful. he killed a great many people, but converted but few. the historian desires at this time to speak briefly of the methods of cortez from a commercial stand-point. will the reader be good enough to cast his eye on the cortez securities as shown in the picture drawn from memory by an artist yet a perfect gentleman? [illustration: bank of cortez.] notice the bonds nos. 18 and 27. do you notice the listening attitude of no. 18? he is listening to the accumulating interest. note the aged and haggard look of no. 27. he has just begun to notice that he is maturing. cast your eye on the prone form of no. 31. he has just fallen due, and in doing so has hurt his crazy-bone (see appendix). be good enough to study the gold-bearing bond behind the screen. see the look of anguish. some one has cut off a coupon probably. cortez was that kind of a man. he would clip the ear of an inca and make him scream with pain, so that his friends would come in and redeem him. once the bank examiner came to examine the cortez bank. he imparted a pleasing flavor on the following day to the soup. spain owned at the close of the sixteenth century the west indies, yucatan, mexico, and florida, besides unlimited water facilities and the peruvian preserves. north carolina was discovered by the french navigator verrazani, thirty years later than cabot did, but as cabot did not record his claim at the court-house in wilmington the frenchman jumped the claim in 1524, and the property remained about the same till again discovered by george w. vanderbilt in the latter part of the present century. montreal was discovered in 1535 by cartier, also a frenchman. ribaut discovered south carolina, and left thirty men to hold it. they were at that time the only white men from-mexico to the north pole, and a keen business man could have bought the whole thing, indians and all, for a good team and a jug of nepenthe. but why repine? the jesuit missionaries about the middle of the seventeenth century pushed their way to the north mississippi and sought to convert the indians. the jesuits deserve great credit for their patience, endurance, and industry, but they were shocked to find the indian averse to work. they also advanced slowly in church work, and would often avoid early mass that they might catch a mess of trout or violate the game law by killing a dakotah in may. [illustration: converting indians.] father marquette discovered the upper mississippi not far from a large piece of suburban property owned by the author, north of minneapolis. the ground has not been disturbed since discovered by father marquette. the english also discovered america from time to time, the cabots finding labrador while endeavoring to go to asia via the north, and frobisher discovered baffin bay in 1576 while on a like mission. the spanish discovered the water mostly, and england the ice belonging to north america. sir francis drake also discovered the pacific ocean, and afterward sailed an english ship on its waters, discovering oregon. sir walter raleigh, with the endorsement of his half-brother, sir humphrey gilbert, regarding the idea of colonization of america, and being a great friend of queen elizabeth, got out a patent on virginia. he planted a colony and a patch of tobacco on roanoke island, but the colonists did not care for agriculture, preferring to hunt for gold and pearls. in this way they soon ran out of food, and were constantly harassed by indians. [illustration: could not reach them.] it was an odd sight to witness a colonist coming home after a long hard day hunting for pearls as he asked his wife if she would be good enough to pull an arrow out of some place which he could not reach himself. raleigh spent two hundred thousand dollars in his efforts to colonize virginia, and then, disgusted, divided up his patent and sold county rights to it at a pound apiece. this was in 1589. raleigh learned the use of smoking tobacco at this time. [illustration: raleigh's astonishment.] he was astonished when he tried it first, and threatened to change his boarding-place or take his meals out, but soon enjoyed it, and before he had been home a week queen elizabeth thought it to be an excellent thing for her house plants. it is now extensively used in the best narcotic circles. [illustration: raleigh's enjoyment.] several other efforts were made by the english to establish colonies in this country, but the indians thought that these english people bathed too much, and invited perspiration between baths. one can see readily that the englishman with his portable bath-tub has been a flag of defiance from the earliest discoveries till this day. this chapter brings us to the time when settlements were made as follows: the french at port royal, n.s., 1605. the english at jamestown 1607. the french at quebec 1608. the dutch at new york 1613. the english at plymouth 1620. * * * * * the author's thanks are due to the following books of reference, which, added to his retentive memory, have made the foregoing statements accurate yet pleasing: a summer in england with h. w. beecher. by j. b. reed. russell's digest of the laws of minnesota, with price-list of members. out-door and bug life in america. by chilblainy, chief of the umatilla. why i am an indian. by s. bull. with notes by ole bull and introduction by john bull. [illustration: bona fide picture of the mayflower.] chapter iii. the thirteen original colonies. this chapter is given up almost wholly to facts. it deals largely with the beginning of the thirteen original colonies from which sprang the republic, the operation of which now gives so many thousands of men in-door employment four years at a time, thus relieving the penitentiaries and throwing more kindergarten statesmen to the front. [illustration: sample puritan.] it was during this epoch that the cavaliers landed in virginia and the puritans in massachusetts; the latter lived on maple sugar and armed prayer, while the former saluted his cow, and, with bared head, milked her with his hat in one hand and his life in the other. immigration now began to increase along the coast. the mayflower began to bring over vast quantities of antique furniture, mostly hall-clocks for future sales. hanging them on spars and masts during rough weather easily accounts for the fact that none of them have ever been known to go. [illustration] the puritans now began to barter with the indians, swapping square black bottles of liquid hell for farms in massachusetts and additions to log towns. dried apples and schools began to make their appearance. the low retreating forehead of the codfish began to be seen at the stores, and virtue began to break out among the indians after death. virginia, however, deserves mention here on the start. this colony was poorly prepared to tote wood and sleep out-of-doors, as the people were all gents by birth. they had no families, but came to virginia to obtain fortunes and return to the city of new york in september. the climate was unhealthy, and before the first autumn, says sir william kronk, from whom i quote, "ye greater numberr of them hade perished of a great miserrie in the side and for lacke of food, for at thatte time the crosse betweene the wilde hyena and the common hogge of the holy lande, and since called the razor backe hogge, had not been made, and so many of the courtiers dyede." john smith saved the colony. he was one of the best smiths that ever came to this country, which is as large an encomium as a man cares to travel with. he would have saved the life of pocahontas, an indian girl who also belonged to the gentry of their tribe, but she saw at once that it would be a point for her to save him, so after a month's rehearsal with her father as villain, with smith's part taken by a chunk of blue-gum wood, they succeeded in getting this little curtain-raiser to perfection. pocahontas was afterwards married, if the author's memory does not fail him, to john rolfe. pocahontas was not beautiful, but many good people sprang from her. she never touched them. her husband sprang from her also just in time. the way she jumped from a clay-eating crowd into the bosom of the english aristocracy by this dramatic ruse was worthy of a greater recognition than merely to figure among the makers of smoking-tobacco with fancy wrappers, when she never had a fancy wrapper in her life. smith was captured once by the indians, and, instead of telling them that he was by birth a gent, he gave them a course of lectures on the use of the compass and how to learn where one is at. thus one after another the indians went away. i often wonder why the lecture is not used more as a means of escape from hostile people. [illustration: the rehearsal.] by writing a letter and getting a reply to it, he made another hit. he now became a great man among the indians; and to kill a dog and fail to invite smith to the symposium was considered as vulgar as it is now to rest the arctic overshoe on the corner of the dining-table while buckling or unbuckling it. afterward smith fell into the hands of powhatan, the croker of his time, and narrowly saved his life, as we have seen, through the intervention of pocahontas. smith was now required in england to preside at a dinner given by the savage club, and to tell a few stories of life in the far west. while he was gone the settlement became a prey to disease and famine. some were killed by the indians while returning from their club at evening; some became pirates. the colony decreased from four hundred and ninety to sixty people, and at last it was moved and seconded that they do now adjourn. they started away from jamestown without a tear, or hardly anything else, having experienced a very dull time there, funerals being the only relaxation whatever. but moving down the bay they met lord delaware, the new governor, with a lot of christmas-presents and groceries. jamestown was once more saved, though property still continued low. the company, by the terms of its new charter, became a self-governing institution, and london was only too tickled to get out of the responsibility. it is said that the only genuine humor up to that time heard in london was spent on the jays of jamestown and the virginia colony. where is that laughter now? where are the gibes and _bon-mots_ made at that sad time? they are gone. all over that little republic, so begun in sorrow and travail, there came in after-years the dimples and the smiles of the prosperous child who would one day rise in the lap of the mother-country, and, asserting its rights by means of patrick o'fallen henry and others, place a large and disagreeable fire-cracker under the nose of royalty, that, busting the awful stillness, should jar the empires of earth, and blow the unblown noses of future kings and princes. (this is taken bodily from a speech made by me july 4, 1777, when i was young.--the author.) pocahontas was married in 1613. she was baptized the day before. whoever thought of that was a bright and thoughtful thinker. she stood the wear and tear of civilization for three years, and then died, leaving an infant son, who has since grown up. the colony now prospered. all freemen had the right to vote. religious toleration was enjoyed first-rate, and, there being no negro slavery, virginia bade fair to be _the_ republic of the continent. but in 1619 the captain of a dutch trading-vessel sold to the colonists twenty negroes. the negroes were mostly married people, and in some instances children were born to them. this peculiarity still shows itself among the negroes, and now all over the south one hardly crosses a county without seeing a negro or a person with negro blood in his or her veins. [illustration: negroes still have families.] after the death of powhatan, the friend of the english, an organized attempt was made by the indians to exterminate the white people and charge more for water frontage the next time any colonists came. march 22, 1622, was the day set, and many of the indians were eating at the tables of those they had sworn to kill. it was a solemn moment. the surprise was to take place between the cold beans and the chili sauce. but a converted indian told quite a number, and as the cold beans were passed, the effect of some arsenic that had been eaten with the slim-neck clams began to be seen, and before the beans had gone half-way round the board the children of the forest were seen to excuse themselves, and thus avoid dying in the house. [illustration: preparing the feast.] yet there were over three hundred and fifty white people massacred, and there followed another, reducing the colonists from four thousand to two thousand five hundred, then a massacre of five hundred, and so on, a sickening record of death and horror, even worse, before a great nation could get a foothold in this wild and savage land; even a toe-hold, as i may say, in the sands of time. july 30, 1619, the first sprout of freedom poked its head from the soil of jamestown when governor yeardley stated that the colony "should have a handle in governing itself." he then called at jamestown the first legislative body ever assembled in america; most of the members whereof boarded at the planters' house during the session. (for sample of legislator see picture.) this body could pass laws, but they must be ratified by the company in england. the orders from london were not binding unless ratified by this colonial assembly. this was a mutual arrangement reminding one of the fearful yet mutual apprehension spoken of by the poet when he says,- "jim darling didn't know but his father was dead, and his father didn't know but jim darling was dead." the colony now began to prosper; men held their lands in severalty, and taxes were low. the railroad had not then brought in new styles in clothing and made people unhappy by creating jealousy. settlements joined each other along the james for one hundred and forty miles, and the colonists first demonstrated how easily they could get along without the new york papers. tobacco began to be a very valuable crop, and at one time even the streets were used for its cultivation. tobacco now proceeded to become a curse to the civilized world. in 1624, king james, fearing that the infant colony would go democratic, appointed a rump governor. the oppression of the english parliament now began to be felt. the colonists were obliged to ship their products to england and to use only english vessels. the assembly, largely royalists, refused to go out when their terms of office expired, paid themselves at the rate of about thirty-six dollars per day as money is now, and, in fact, acted like members of the legislature generally. [illustration: jamestown legislator.] in 1676, one hundred years before the colonies declared themselves free and independent, a rebellion, under the management of a bright young attorney named bacon, visited jamestown and burned the american metropolis, after which governor berkeley was driven out. bacon died just as his rebellion was beginning to pay, and the people dispersed. berkeley then took control, and killed so many rebels that mrs. berkeley had to do her own work, and berkeley, who had no one left to help him but his friends, had to stack his own grain that fall and do the chores at the barn. jamestown is now no more. it was succeeded in 1885 by jamestown, north dakota, now called jimtown, a prosperous place in the rich farming-lands of that state. jamestown the first, the scene of so many sorrows and little jealousies, so many midnight indian attacks and bilious attacks by day, became a solemn ruin, and a few shattered tombstones, over which the jimson-weed and the wild vines clamber, show to the curious traveller the place where civilization first sought to establish itself on the james river, u.s.a. * * * * * the author wishes to refer with great gratitude to information contained in the foregoing chapter and obtained from the following works: the indian and other animalcula. by n. k. boswell, laramie city, wyoming. how to jolly the red man out of his lands. by ernest smith. the female red man and her pure life. by johnson sides, reno, nevada (p.m. please forward if out on war-path). the crow indian and his caws. by me. massacre etiquette. by wad. mcswalloper, 82 mcdougall st., new york. where is my indian to night? by a half-bred lady of winnipeg. [illustration] chapter iv. the plymouth colony. in the fall of 1620 the pilgrims landed at plymouth during a disagreeable storm, and, noting the excellent opportunity for future misery, began to erect a number of rude cabins. this party consisted of one hundred and two people of a resolute character who wished to worship god in a more extemporaneous manner than had been the custom in the church of england. they found that the indians of cape cod were not ritualistic, and that they were willing to dispose of inside lots at plymouth on reasonable terms, retaining, however, the right to use the lands for massacre purposes from time to time. the pilgrims were honest, and gave the indians something for their land in almost every instance, but they put a price upon it which has made the indian ever since a comparatively poor man. half of this devoted band died before spring, and yet the idea of returning to england did not occur to them. "no," they exclaimed, "we will not go back to london until we can go first-class, if we have to stay here two hundred years." during the winter they discovered why the lands had been sold to them so low. the indians of one tribe had died there of a pestilence the year before, and so when the pilgrims began to talk trade they did not haggle over prices. in the early spring, however, they were surprised to hear the word "welcome" proceeding from the door-mat of samoset, an indian whose chief was named massasoit. a treaty was then made for fifty years, massasoit taking "the same." canonicus once sent to governor bradford a bundle of arrows tied up in a rattlesnake's skin. the governor put them away in the pantry with his other curios, and sent canonicus a few bright new bullets and a little dose of powder. that closed the correspondence. in those days there were no newspapers, and most of the fighting was done without a guarantee or side bets. money-matters; however, were rather panicky at the time, and the people were kept busy digging clams to sustain life in order to raise indian corn enough to give them sufficient strength to pull clams enough the following winter to get them through till the next corn crop should give them strength to dig for clams again. thus a trip to london and the isle of wight looked farther and farther away. after four years they numbered only one hundred and eighty-four, counting immigration and all. the colony only needed, however, more people and eastern capital. it would be well to pause here and remember the annoyances connected with life as a forefather. possibly the reader has considered the matter already. imagine how nervous one may be waiting in the hall and watching with a keen glance for the approach of the physician who is to announce that one is a forefather. the amateur forefather of 1620 must have felt proud yet anxious about the clam-yield also, as each new mouth opened on the prospect. speaking of clams, it is said by some of the forefathers that the cape cod menu did not go beyond codfish croquettes until the beginning of the seventeenth century, when pie was added by act of legislature. clams are not so restless if eaten without the brisket, which is said to lie hard on the stomach.[2] salem and charlestown were started by governor endicott, and boston was founded in 1630. to these various towns the puritans flocked, and even now one may be seen in ghostly garments on thanksgiving eve flitting here and there turning off the gas in the parlor while the family are at tea, in order to cut down expenses. [illustration] plymouth and massachusetts bay colonies were united in 1692. roger williams, a bright young divine, was the first to interfere with the belief that magistrates had the right to punish sabbath-breakers, blasphemers, etc. he also was the first to utter the idea that a man's own conscience must be his own guide and not that of another. [illustration: sabbath-breaker arrester.] among the puritans there were several who had enlarged consciences, and who desired to take in extra work for others who had no consciences and were busy in the fields. they were always ready to give sixteen ounces to the pound, and were honest, but they got very little rest on sunday, because they had to watch the sabbath-breaker all the time. [illustration: puritan snore arrester.] the method of punishment for some offences is given here. [illustration: methods of punishment.] does the man look cheerful? no. no one looks cheerful. even the little boys look sad. it is said that the puritans knocked what fun there was out of the indian. did any one ever see an indian smile since the landing of the pilgrims? [illustration: cold!] [illustration: hunger!!] roger williams was too liberal to be kindly received by the clergy, and so he was driven out of the settlement. finding that the indians were less rigid and kept open on sundays, he took refuge among them (1636), and before spring had gained eighteen pounds and converted canonicus, one of the hardest cases in new england and the first man to sit up till after ten o'clock at night. canonicus gave roger the tract of land on which providence now stands. [illustration: injuns!!!] mrs. anne hutchinson gave the pilgrims trouble also. having claimed some special revelations and attempted to make a few remarks regarding them, she was banished. banishment, which meant a homeless life in a wild land, with no one but the indians to associate with, in those days, was especially annoying to a good christian woman, and yet it had its good points. it offered a little religious freedom, which could not be had among those who wanted it so much that they braved the billow and the wild beast, the savage, the drouth, the flood, and the potato-bug, to obtain it before anybody else got a chance at it. freedom is a good thing. [illustration] twenty years later the quakers shocked every one by thinking a few religious thoughts on their own hooks. the colonists executed four of them, and before that tortured them at a great rate. during dull times and on rainy days it was a question among the puritans whether they would banish an old lady, bore holes with a red-hot iron through a quaker's tongue, or pitch horse-shoes. in 1643 the "united colonies of new england" was the name of a league formed by the people for protection against the indians. king philip's war followed. massasoit was during his lifetime a friend to the poor whites of plymouth, as powhatan had been of those at jamestown, but these two great chiefs were succeeded by a low set of indians, who showed as little refinement as one could well imagine. some of the sufferings of the pilgrims at the time are depicted on the preceding pages by the artist, also a few they escaped. looking over the lives of our forefathers who came from england, i am not surprised that, with all the english people who have recently come to this country, i have never seen a forefather. [footnote 2: see dr. dunn's family physician and horse doctor.] chapter v. drawbacks of being a colonist. it was at this period in the history of our country that the colonists found themselves not only banished from all civilization, but compelled to fight an armed foe whose trade was war and whose music was the dying wail of a tortured enemy. unhampered by the exhausting efforts of industry, the indian, trained by centuries of war upon adjoining tribes, felt himself foot-loose and free to shoot the unprotected forefather from behind the very stump fence his victim had worked so hard to erect. king philip, a demonetized sovereign, organized his red troops, and, carrying no haversacks, knapsacks, or artillery, fell upon the colonists and killed them, only to reappear at some remote point while the dead and wounded who fell at the first point were being buried or cared for by rude physicians. what an era in the history of a country! gentlewomen whose homes had been in the peaceful hamlets of england lived and died in the face of a cruel foe, yet prepared the cloth and clothing for their families, fed them, and taught them to look to god in all times of trouble, to be prayerful in their daily lives, yet vigilant and ready to deal death to the general enemy. they were the mothers whose sons and grandsons laid the huge foundations of a great nation and cemented them with their blood. [illustration: prayerful yet vigilant.] at this time there was a line of battle three hundred miles in length. on one side the white man went armed to the field or the prayer-meeting, shooting an indian on sight as he would a panther; on the other, a foe whose wife did the chores and hoed the scattering crops while he made war and extermination his joy by night and his prayer and life-long purpose by day. finally, however, the victory came sluggishly to the brave and deserving. one thousand indians were killed at one pop, and their wigwams were burned. all their furniture and curios were burned in their wigwams, and some of their valuable dogs were holocausted. king philip was shot by a follower as he was looking under the throne for something, and peace was for the time declared. [illustration: an ovation in the way of eggs and codfish.] about 1684 the colony of massachusetts, which had dared to open up a trade with the west indies, using its own vessels for that purpose, was hauled over the coals by the mother-country for violation of the navigation act, and an officer sent over to enforce the latter. the colonists defied him, and when he was speaking to them publicly in a tone of reprimand, he got an ovation in the way of eggs and codfish, both of which had been set aside for that purpose when the country was new, and therefore had an air of antiquity which cannot be successfully imitated. as a result, the colony was made a royal appendage, and sir edmund andros, a political hack under james ii., was made governor of new england. he reigned under great difficulties for three years, and then suddenly found himself in jail. the jail was so arranged that he could not get out, and so the puritans now quietly resumed their old form of government. this continued also for three years, when sir william phipps became governor under the crown, with one hundred and twenty pounds per annum and house-rent. from this on to the revolution, massachusetts, maine, and nova scotia became a royal province. nova scotia is that way yet, and has to go to boston for her groceries. [illustration: opening of the witch-hunting season.] the year 1692 is noted mostly for the salem excitement regarding witchcraft. the children of rev. mr. parris were attacked with some peculiar disease which would not yield to the soothing blisters and bleedings administered by the physicians of the old school, and so, not knowing exactly what to do about it, the doctors concluded that they were bewitched. then it was, of course, the duty of the courts and selectmen to hunt up the witches. this was naturally difficult. fifty-five persons were tortured and twenty were hanged for being witches; which proves that the people of salem were fully abreast of the indians in intelligence, and that their gospel privileges had not given their charity and christian love such a boom as they should have done. one can hardly be found now, even in salem, who believes in witchcraft; though the cape cod people, it is said, still spit on their bait. the belief in witchcraft in those days was not confined by any means to the colonists. sir matthew hale of england, one of the most enlightened judges of the mother-country, condemned a number of people for the offence, and is now engaged in doing road-work on the streets of the new jerusalem as a punishment for these acts done while on the woolsack. blackstone himself, one of the dullest authors ever read by the writer of these lines, yet a skilled jurist, with a marvellous memory regarding justinian, said that, to deny witchcraft was to deny revelation. "be you a witch?" asked one of the judges of massachusetts, according to the records now on file in the state-house at boston. "no, your honor," was the reply. "officer," said the court, taking a pinch of snuff, "take her out on the tennis-grounds and pull out her toe-nails with a pair of hot pincers, and then see what she says." it was quite common to examine lady witches in the regular court and then adjourn to the tennis-court. a great many were ducked by order of the court and hanged up by the thumbs, in obedience to the customs of these people who came to america because they were persecuted. [illustration: irishman who, when poor, was down on rich people.] human nature is the same even to this day. the writer grew up with an irishman who believed that when a man got wealthy enough to keep a carriage and coachman he ought to be assassinated and all his goods given to the poor. he now hires a coachman himself, having succeeded in new york city as a policeman; but the man who comes to assassinate him will find it almost impossible to obtain an audience with him. [illustration: irishman who, when rich, was proud and haughty.] if you wish to educate a man to be a successful oppressor, with a genius for introducing new horrors and novelties in pain, oppress him early in life and don't give him any reason for doing so. the idea that "god is love" was not popular in those days. the early settlers were so stern even with their own children that if the indian had not given the forefather something to attract his attention, the boy crop would have been very light. even now the philosopher is led to ask, regarding the boasted freedom of america, why some measures are not taken to put large fly-screens over it. chapter vi. the episode of the charter oak. the colonies of maine and new hampshire were so closely associated with that of massachusetts that their history up to 1820 was practically the same. shortly after the landing of the pilgrims, say two years or thereabouts, gorges and mason obtained from england the grant of a large tract lying between the merrimac and kennebec rivers. this patent was afterwards dissolved, mason taking what is now new hampshire, and gorges taking maine. he afterwards sold the state to massachusetts for six thousand dollars. the growth of the state may be noticed since that time, for one county cost more than that last november. in 1820 maine was separated from massachusetts. maine is noted for being the easternmost state in the union, and has been utilized by a number of eminent men as a birthplace. white-birch spools for thread, christmas-trees, and tamarack and spruce-gum are found in great abundance. it is the home of an industrious and peace-loving people. bar harbor is a cool place to go to in summer-time and violate the liquor law of the state. [illustration: seductions of bar harbor.] the dutch were first to claim connecticut. they built a trading-post at hartford, where they swapped bone collar-buttons with the indians for beaver-and otter-skins. traders from plymouth who went up the river were threatened by the dutch, but they pressed on and established a post at windsor. in 1635, john steele led a company "out west" to hartford, and thomas hooker, a clergyman, followed with his congregation, driving their stock before them. hartford thus had quite a boom quite early in the seventeenth century. the dutch were driven out of the connecticut valley, and began to look towards new york. [illustration: pequod indian on the war-path.] soon after this the pequod war broke out. these indians had hoped to form an alliance with the narragansetts, but roger williams prevented this by seeing the narragansett chief personally. thus the puritans had coals of fire heaped on their heads by their gentle pastor, until the odor of burning hair could be detected as far away as new haven. the pequods were thus compelled to fight alone, and captain mason by a _coup d'état_ surrounded their camp before daylight and entered the palisades with the indian picket, who cried out "owanux! owanux!" meaning "englishmen. englishmen." mason and his men killed these pequods and burned their lodges to the ground. there has never been a prosperous pequod lodge since. those who escaped to the forest were shot down like jack-rabbits as they fled, and there has been no pequoding done since that time. the new haven colony was founded in 1638 by wealthy church members from abroad. they took the bible as their standard and statute. they had no other law. only church members could vote, which was different from the arrangements in new york city in after-years. [illustration: governor andros.] the connecticut colony had a regular constitution, said to have been the first written constitution ever adopted by the people, framed for the people by the people. it was at once prosperous, and soon bought out the saybrook colony. in 1662 a royal charter was obtained which united the two above colonies and guaranteed to the people the rights agreed upon by them. it amounted to a duly-authenticated independence. a quarter of a century afterwards governor andros, in his other clothes and a reigning coat of red and gold trimmings, marched into the assembly and demanded this precious charter. a long debate ensued, and, according to tradition, while the members of the assembly stood around the table taking a farewell look at the charter, one of the largest members of the house fell on the governor's breast and wept so copiously on his shirt-frill that harsh words were used by his excellency; a general quarrel ensued, the lights went out, and when they were relighted the charter was gone. captain wadsworth had taken it and concealed it in a hollow tree, since called the charter oak. after andros was ejected from the boston office, the charter was brought out again, and business under it was resumed. important documents, however, should not be, as a general thing, secreted in trees. the author once tried this while young, and when engaged to, or hoping to become engaged to, a dear one whose pa was a singularly coarse man and who hated a young man who came as a lover at his daughter's feet with nothing but a good education and his great big manly heart. he wanted a son-in-law with a brewery; and so he bribed the boys of the neighborhood to break up a secret correspondence between the two young people and bring the mail to him. this was the cause of many a heart-ache, and finally the marriage of the sweet young lady to a brewer who was mortgaged so deeply that he wandered off somewhere and never returned. years afterwards the brewery needed repairs, and one of the large vats was found to contain all of the missing man that would not assimilate with the beer,--viz., his watch. quite a number of people at that time quit the use of beer, and the author gave his hand in marriage to a wealthy young lady who was attracted by his gallantry and fresh young beauty. [illustration: nye's charter oak.] roger williams now settled at providence plantation, where he was joined by mrs. hutchinson, who also believed that the church and state should not be united, but that the state should protect the church and that neither should undertake to boss the other. it was also held that religious qualifications should not be required of political aspirants, also that no man should be required to whittle his soul into a shape to fit the religious auger-hole of another. this was the beginning of rhode island. she desired at once to join the new england colony, but was refused, as she had no charter. plymouth claimed also to have jurisdiction over rhode island. this was very much like plymouth. having banished roger williams and mrs. hutchinson to be skinned by the pequods and narragansetts over at narragansett pier, they went on about their business, flogging quakers, also ducking old women who had lumbago, and burning other women who would not answer affirmatively when asked, "be you a witch?" then when roger began to make improvements and draw the attention of eastern capital to rhode island and to organize a state or colony with a charter, plymouth said, "hold on, roger: religiously we have cast you out, to live on wild strawberries, clams, and indians, but from a mercantile and political point of view you will please notice that we have a string which you will notice is attached to your wages and discoveries." [illustration: ducking old women.] afterwards, however, roger williams obtained the necessary funds from admiring friends with which to go to england and obtain a charter which united the colonies yet gave to all the first official right to liberty of conscience ever granted in europe or america. prior to that a man's conscience had a brass collar on it with the royal arms engraved thereon, and was kept picketed out in the king's grounds. the owner could go and look at it on sundays, but he never had the use of it. with the advent of freedom of political opinion, the individual use of the conscience has become popularized, and the time is coming when it will grow to a great size under our wise institutions and fostering skies. instead of turning over our consciences to the safety deposit company of a great political party or religious organization and taking the key in our pocket, let us have individual charge of this useful little instrument and be able finally to answer for its growth or decay. * * * * * the author wishes to extend his thanks for the use of books of reference used in the collection of the foregoing facts; among them, "how to pay expenses though single," by a social leper, "how to keep well," by methuselah, "humor of early days," by job, "dangers of the deep," by noah, "general peacefulness and repose of the dead indian," by general nelson a. miles, "gulliver's travels," and "life and public services of the james boys." [illustration: nye in his family gallery.] chapter vii. the discovery of new york. the author will now refer to the discovery of the hudson river and the town of new york _via_ fort lee and the 125th street ferry. new york was afterwards sold for twenty-four dollars,--the whole island. when i think of this i go into my family gallery, which i also use as a swear room, and tell those ancestors of mine what i think of them. where were they when new york was sold for twenty-four dollars? were they having their portraits painted by landseer, or their deposition taken by jeffreys, or having their little lord fauntleroy clothes made? do not encourage them to believe that they will escape me in future years. some of them died unregenerate, and are now, i am told, in a country where they may possibly be damned; and i will attend to the others personally. twenty-four dollars for new york! why, my croton-water tax on one house and lot with fifty feet four and one-fourth inches front is fifty-nine dollars and no questions asked. why, you can't get a voter for that now. henry--or hendrik--hudson was an english navigator, of whose birth and early history nothing is known definitely, hence his name is never mentioned in many of the best homes in new york. in 1607 he made a voyage in search of the northwest passage. in one of his voyages he discovered cape cod, and later on the hudson river. this was one hundred and seventeen years after columbus discovered america; which shows that the discovering business was not pushed as it should have been by those who had it in charge. hudson went up the river as far as albany, but, finding no one there whom he knew, he hastened back as far as 209th street west, and anchored. he discovered hudson bay and hudson strait, and made other journeys by water, though aquatting was then in its infancy. afterwards his sailors became mutinous, and set hendrik and his son, with seven infirm sailors, afloat. ah! whom have we here? (see next page.) it is hendrik hudson, who discovered the hudson river. here he has just landed at the foot of 209th street, new york, where he offered the indians liquor, but they refused. how 209th street has changed! the artist has been fortunate in getting the expression of the indians in the act of refusing. mr. hudson's great reputation lies in the fact that he discovered the river which bears his name; but the thinking mind will at once regard the discovery of an indian who does not drink as far more wonderful. [illustration: discovery of temperance indians.] some historians say that this especial delegation was swept away afterward by a pestilence, whilst others commenting on the incident maintain that hudson lied. it is the only historical question regarding america not fully settled by this book. nothing more was heard of him till he turned up in a thinking part in "rip van winkle." many claims regarding the discovery of various parts of the united states had been previously made. the cabots had discovered labrador, the spaniards the southern part of the united states; the norsemen had discovered minneapolis, and columbus had discovered san salvador and gone home to meet a ninety-day note due in palos for the use of the pinta, which he had hired by the hour. but we are speaking of the discovery of new york. about this time a solitary horseman might have been seen at west 209th street, clothed in a little brief authority, and looking out to the west as he petulantly spoke in the tammany dialect, then in the language of the blank-verse indian. he began, "another day of anxiety has passed, and yet we have not been discovered! the great spirit tells me in the thunder of the surf and the roaring cataract of the harlem that within a week we will be discovered for the first time." as he stands there aboard of his horse, one sees that he is a chief in every respect and in life's great drama would naturally occupy the middle of the stage. it was at this moment that hudson slipped down the river from albany past fort lee, and, dropping a nickel in the slot at 125th street, weighed his anchor at that place. as soon as he had landed and discovered the city, he was approached by the chief, who said, "we gates. i am one of the committee to show you our little town. i suppose you have a power of attorney, of course, for discovering us?" "yes," said hudson. "as columbus used to say when he discovered san salvador, 'i do it by the right vested in me by my sovereigns.' 'that oversizes my pile by a sovereign and a half,' says one of the natives; and so, if you have not heard it, there is a good thing for one of your dinner-speeches here." "very good," said the chief, as they jogged down-town on a swift sixth avenue elevated train towards the wigwams on 14th street, and going at the rate of four miles an hour. "we do not care especially who discovers us, so long as we hold control of the city organization. how about that, hank?" "that will be satisfactory," said mr. hudson, taking a package of imported cheese and eating it, so that they could have the car to themselves. "we will take the departments, such as police, street-cleaning, etc., etc., etc., while you and columbus get your pictures on the currency and have your graves mussed up on anniversaries. we get the two-moment horses and the country châteaux on the bronx. sabe?" "that is, you do not care whose portrait is on the currency," said hudson, "so you get the currency." said the man, "that is the sense of the meeting." thus was new york discovered _via_ albany and fort lee, and five minutes after the two touched glasses, the brim of the schoppin and the manhattan cocktail tinkled together, and new york was inaugurated. obtaining a gentle and philanthropical gentleman who knew too well the city by gas-light, they saw the town so thoroughly that nearly every building in the morning wore a bright red sign which read- +----------------------+ | beware of paint. | +----------------------+ regarding the question as to who has the right to claim the priority of discovery of new york, i unite with one of the ablest historians now living in stating that i do not know. here and there throughout the work of all great historians who are frank and honest, chapter after chapter of information like this will burst forth upon the eye of the surprised and delighted reader. society at the time of the discovery of the blank-verse indian of america was crude. hudson's arrival, of course, among older citizens soon called out those who desired his acquaintance, but he noticed that club life was not what it has since become, especially indian club life. [illustration: club life in early new york.] he found a nation whose regular job was war and whose religion was the ever-present prayer that they might eat the heart of their enemy plain. the indian high school and young ladies' seminary captured by columbus, as shown in the pictures of his arrival at home and his presentation to the royal pair one hundred and seventeen years before this, it is said, brought a royal flush to the face of king ferdie, who had been well brought up. this can be readily understood when we remember that the indian wore at court a court plaster, a parlor-lamp-shade in stormy weather, made of lawn grass, or a surcingle of front teeth. they were shown also in all these paintings as graceful and beautiful in figure; but in those days when the pocahontas girls went barefooted till the age of eighty-nine years, chewed tobacco, kept lent all winter and then ate a brace of middle-aged men for easter, the figure must have been affected by this irregularity of meals. [illustration: the indian girl of story.] [illustration: the indian girl of fact.] unless the pocahontas of the present day has fallen off sadly in her carriage and beauty, to be saved from death by her, as smith was, and feel that she therefore had a claim on him, must have given one nervous prostration, paresis, and insomnia. the indian and the white race never really united or amalgamated outside of canada. the indian has always held aloof from us, and even as late as sitting bull's time that noted cavalry officer said to the author that the white people who simply came over in the mayflower could not marry into his family on that ground. he wanted to know why they _had to_ come over in the mayflower. [illustration: bill nye conversing with sitting bull.] "we were here," said the aged warrior, as he stole a bacon-rind which i used for lubricating my saw, and ate it thoughtfully, "we were here and helped adam 'round up' and brand his animals. we are an old family, and never did manual labor. we are just as poor and proud and indolent as those who are of noble blood. we know we are of noble blood because we have to take sarsaparilla all the time. we claim to come by direct descent from job, of whom the inspired writer says,- "old job he was a fine young lad, sing glory hallelujah. his heart was good, but his blood was bad, sing glory hallelujah."[3] [footnote 3: this is a stanza from the works of dempster winterbottom woodworth, m.d., of ellsworth, pierce county, wisconsin, author of the "diary of judge pierce," and "life and times of melancthon klingensmith." the thanks of the author are also due to baldy sowers for a loaned copy of "how to keep up a pleasing correspondence without conveying information," 8vo, bevelled boards, published by public printer.] chapter viii. the dutch at new amsterdam. soon after the discovery of the hudson, dutch ships began to visit that region, to traffic in furs with the indians. some huts were erected by these traders on manhattan island in 1613, and a trading-post was established in 1615. relics of these times are frequently turned up yet on broadway while putting in new pipes, or taking out old pipes, or repairing other pipes, or laying plans for yet other pipes, or looking in the earth to see that the original pipes have not been taken away. afterwards the west india company obtained a grant of new netherland, and new amsterdam was fairly started. in 1626, minuit, the first governor, arrived, and, as we have stated, purchased the entire city of new york of the indians for twenty-four dollars. then trouble sprang up between the dutch and the swedes on the delaware over the possession of manhattan, and when the two tribes got to conversing with each other over their rights, using the mother-tongue on both sides, it reminded one of the chicago wheat market when business is good. the english on the connecticut also saw that manhattan was going to boom as soon as the indians could be got farther west, and that property would be high there. [illustration: stuyvesant's vision.] peter stuyvesant was the last dutch governor of new york. he was a relative of mine. he disliked the english very much. they annoyed him with their democratic ideas and made his life a perfect hell to him. he would be sorry to see the way our folks have since begun to imitate the english. i can almost see him rising in his grave to note how the stuyvesants in full cry pursue the affrighted anise-seed bag, or with their coaching outfits go tooling along 'cross country, stopping at the inns on the way and unlimbering their portable bath-tubs to check them with the "clark." pete, you did well to die early. you would not have been happy here now. while governor stuyvesant was in hot water with the english, the swedes, and the indians, a fleet anchored in the harbor and demanded the surrender of the place in the name of the duke of york, who wished to use it for a game preserve. after a hot fight with his council, some of whom were willing even then to submit to english rule and hoped that the fleet might have two or three suits of tweed which by mistake were a fit and therefore useless to the owners, and that they might succeed in swapping furs for these, the governor yielded, and in 1664 new york became a british possession, named as above. the english governors, however, were not popular. they were mostly political hacks who were pests at home and banished to new york, where the noise of the streets soon drove them to drink. for nine years this sort of thing went on, until one day a dutch fleet anchored near the staten island brewery and in the evening took the town. however, in the year following, peace was restored between england and holland, and new amsterdam became new york again, also subject to the tammany rule. andros was governor for a time, but was a sort of pompous tomtit, with a short breath and a large aquiline opinion of himself. he was one of the arrogant old pie-plants whose growth was fostered by the beetle-bellied administration at home. he went back on board the city of rome one day, and did not return. new york had a gleam of hope for civil freedom under the rule of the duke of york and the county democracy, but when the duke became james ii. he was just like other people who get a raise of salary, and refused to be privately entertained by the self-made ancestry of the american. he was proud and arrogant to a degree. he forbade legislation, and stopped his paper. new york was at this time annexed to the new england colony, and began keeping the sabbath so vigorously that the angels had great difficulty in getting at it. [illustration: duke of york.] nicholson, who was the lieutenant tool of iniquity for andros, fled with him when democracy got too hot for them. captain leisler, supported by steve brodie and everything south of the harlem, but bitterly opposed by the aristocracy, who were distinguished by their ability to use new goods in making their children's clothes, whereas the democracy had to make vests for the boys from the cast-off trousers of their fathers, governed the province until governor sloughter arrived. sloughter was another imported smearkase in official life, and arrested leisler at the request of an aristocrat who drove a pair of bang-tail horses up and down nassau street on pleasant afternoons and was afterwards collector of the port. having arrested leisler for treason, the governor was a little timid about executing him, for he had never really killed a man in his life, and he hated the sight of blood; so leisler's enemies got the governor to take dinner with them, and mixed his rum, so that when he got ready to speak, his remarks were somewhat heterogeneous, and before he went home he had signed a warrant for leisler's immediate execution. [illustration: governor sloughter's painful awakening.] when he awoke in the morning at his beautiful home on whitehall street, the sun was gayly glinting the choppy waves of buttermilk channel, and by his watch, which had run down, he saw that it was one o'clock, but whether it was one o'clock a.m. or p.m. he did not know, nor whether it was next saturday or tuesday before last. oh, how he must have felt! his room was dark, the gas having gone out to get better air. he attempted to rise, but a chill, a throb, a groan, and back he lay hastily on the bed just as it was on the point of escaping him. suddenly a thought came to him. it was not a great thought, but it was such a thought as comes to those who have been thoughtless. he called for a blackamoor slave from abroad who did chores for him, and ordered a bottle of cooking brandy, then some club soda he had brought from london with him. next he drank a celery-glass of it, and after that he felt better. he then drank another. "keep out of the way of this bed, julius," he said. "it is coming around that way again. step to one side, julius, please, and let the bed walk around and stretch its legs. i never saw a bed spread itself so," he continued, seeming to enjoy his own lancashire humor. "all night i seemed to feel a great pain creeping over me, julius," he said, hesitatingly, again filling his celery-glass, "but i see now that it was a counterpane." eighty years after that, sloughter was a corpse. we should learn from this not to be too hasty in selecting our birthplaces. had he been born in america, he might have been alive yet. from this on the struggles of the people up to the time of the revolution were enough to mortify the reader almost to death. i will not go over them again. it was the history of all the other colonies; poor, proud, with large masses of children clustering about, and indians lurking in the out-buildings. the mother-country was negligent, and even cruel. her political offscourings were sent to rule the people. the cranberry-crops soured on the vines, and times were very scarce. it was during this period that captain william kidd, a new york ship-master and anti-snapper from mulberry street, was sent out to overtake and punish a few of the innumerable pirates who then infested the high seas. studying first the character, life, and public services of the immoral pirate, and being perfectly foot-loose, his wife having eloped with her family physician, he determined to take a little whirl at the business himself, hoping thereby to escape the noise and heat of new york and obtain a livelihood while life lasted which would maintain him the remainder of his days unless death overtook him. [illustration: nye as a boy reading about kidd.] dropping off at boston one day to secure a supply of tobacco, he was captured while watching the vast number of street-cars on washington street. he was taken to england, where he was tried and ultimately hanged. his sudden and sickening death did much to discourage an american youth of great brilliancy who had up to 1868 intended to be a pirate, but who, stumbling across the "life and times of captain kidd, and his awful death," changed his whole course and became one of the ablest historians of the age in which he lived. [illustration: captain kidd arrested.] this should teach us to read the papers instead of loaning them to people who do not subscribe. * * * * * since the above was written, the account of the death of governor andros is flashed across the wires to us. _verbum sap._ also _in hoc signo vinces_. the author wishes to express by this means his grateful acknowledgments to his friends and the public generally for the great turn-out and general sympathy bestowed upon his relative, the late peter b. stuyvesant, on the sad occasion of his funeral, which was said to be one of the best attended and most successful funerals before the war. should any of his friends be caught in the same fix, the author will not only cheerfully turn out himself, but send all hands from his place that can be spared, also a six-seated wagon and a side-bar buggy. chapter ix. settlement of the middle states. the present state of new jersey was a part of new netherland, and the dutch had a trading-post at bergen as early as 1618. after new netherland passed into the hands of the dutch, the duke of york gave the land lying between the hudson and the delaware to lord berkeley and sir george carteret for christmas. [illustration: berkeley in new jersey.] the first permanent english settlement made in the state was at elizabethtown, named so in honor of sir george's first wife. berkeley sold his part to some english quakers. this part was called west jersey. he claimed that it was too far from town. it was very hard for a lord to clear up land, and berkeley missed his evenings at the savage club, and his nose yearned for a good whiff of real old rotten row fog. so many disputes arose regarding the title to jersey that the whole thing finally reverted to the crown in 1702. when there was any trouble over titles in those days it was always settled by letting it revert to the crown. it has been some years now, however, since that has happened in this country. thirty-six years later new jersey was set apart as a separate royal province, and became a railroad terminus and bathing-place. delaware was settled by the swedes at wilmington first, and called new sweden. i am surprised that the norsemen, who it is claimed made the first and least expensive summer at newport, r. i., should not have clung to it. [illustration: cheapest newport season.] they could have made a good investment, and in a few years would have been strong enough to wipe out the brooklyn police. the swedes, too, had a good foothold in new york, jersey, and delaware, also a start in pennsylvania. but the two nations seemed to yearn for home, and as soon as boats began to run regularly to stockholm and christiania, they returned. in later years they discovered minneapolis and stillwater. william penn now loomed up on the horizon. he was an english quaker who had been expelled from oxford and jugged in cork also for his religious belief. he was the son of admiral sir william penn, and had a good record. he believed that elocutionary prayer was unnecessary, and that the acoustics of heaven were such that the vilest sinner with no voice-culture could be heard in the remotest portion of the gallery. the only thing that has been said against penn with any sort of semblance of truth was that he had some influence with james ii. the duke of york also stood in with penn, and used to go about in england bailing william out whenever he was jailed on account of his religious belief. penn was quite a writer (see appendix). he was the author of "no cross, no crown," "innocency with her open face," and "the great cause of liberty of conscience." from his father he had inherited a claim against the government for sixteen thousand pounds, probably arrears of pension. he finally received the state of pennsylvania as payment of the claim. the western boundary took in the cliff house and seal rocks of san francisco. penn came to america in 1682 and bought his land over again from the indians. it is not strange that he got the best terms he could out of the indians, but still it is claimed that they were satisfied, therefore he did not cheat them. the indian, as will be noticed by reading these pages thoughtfully, was never a napoleon of finance. he is that way down to the present day. if you watch him carefully and notice his ways, you can dicker with him to better advantage than you can with russell sage. take the indian just before breakfast after two or three nights of debauchery, and offer him a jug of absinthe with a horned toad in it for his pony and saddle, and you will get them. even in his more sober and thoughtful moments you can swap a suit of red medicated flannels with him for a farm. penn gathered about him many different kinds of people, with various sorts and shades of belief. some were free-will and some were hard-shell, some were high-church and reminded one of a masonic lodge working at 32°, while others were low-church and omitted crossing themselves frequently while putting down a new carpet in the chancel. [illustration: a few of penn's people.] but he was too well known at court, and suspected of knowledge of and participation in some of the questionable acts of king james, so that after the latter's dethronement, and an intimation that penn had communicated with the exiled monarch, penn was deprived of his title to pennsylvania, for which he had twice paid. penn was a constant sufferer at the hands of his associates, who sought to injure him in every way. he rounded out a life of suffering by marrying the second time in 1695. in 1708 he was on the verge of bankruptcy, owing to the villany and mismanagement of his agent, and was thrown into fleet street prison, a jail in which he had never before been confined. his health gave way afterwards, and this remarkable man died july 30, 1718. philadelphia was founded in 1683 and work begun on a beautiful building known as the city hall. work has steadily progressed on this building from time to time since then, and at this writing it is so near completion as to give promise of being one of the most perfect architectural jobs ever done by the hand of man. in two years philadelphia had sprung from a wilderness, where the rank thistle nodded in the wind, to a town of over two thousand people, exclusive of indians not taxed. in three years it had gained more than new york had in fifty years. this was due to the fact that the people who came to philadelphia had nothing to fear but the indians, while settlers in new york had not only the indians to defend themselves against, but the police also. penn and his followers established the great law that no one who believed in almighty god should be molested in his religious belief. even the indians liked penn, and when the nights were cold they would come and crawl into his bed and sleep with him all night and not kill him at all. the great chief of the tribes, even, did not feel above this, and the two used frequently to lie and talk for hours, penn doing the talking and the chief doing the lying. it is said that, with all the indian massacres and long wars between the red men and the white, no drop of quaker blood was ever shed. i quote this from an historian who is much older than i, and with whom i do not wish to have any controversy. after penn's death his heirs ran the colony up to 1779, when they disposed of it for five hundred thousand dollars or thereabouts, and the state became the proprietor. [illustration: penn and the big chief.] the seventeenth century must have been a very disagreeable period for people who professed religion, for america from newfoundland to florida was dotted with little settlements almost entirely made up of people who had escaped from england to secure religious freedom at the risk of their lives. in 1634 the first settlement was made by young lord baltimore, whose people, the catholics, were fleeing from england to obtain freedom to worship god as they believed to be right. thus the catholics were added to the list of religious refugees,--viz., the huguenots, the puritans, the walloons, the quakers, the presbyterians, the whigs, and the menthol healers. terra mariæ, or maryland, was granted to lord baltimore, as the successor of his father, who had begun before his death the movement for settling his people in america. the charter gave to all freemen a voice in making the laws. among the first laws passed was one giving to every human being upon payment of poll-tax the right to worship freely according to the dictates of his own conscience. america thus became the refuge for those who had any peculiarity of religious belief, until to-day no doubt more varieties of religion may be found here than almost anywhere else in the world. in 1635 the virginia colony and lord baltimore had some words over the boundaries between the jamestown and maryland colonies. clayborne was the jamestown man who made the most trouble. he had started a couple of town sites on the maryland tract, plotted them, and sold lots to yorkshire tenderfeet, and so when lord baltimore claimed the lands clayborne attacked him, and there was a running skirmish for several years, till at last the rebellion collapsed in 1645 and clayborne fled. the protestants now held the best hand, and outvoted the catholics, so up to 1691 there was a never-dying fight between the two, which must have been entertaining to the unregenerate outsider who was taxed to pay for a double set of legislators. this fight between the catholics and protestants shows that intolerance is not confined to a monarchy. in 1715 the fourth lord baltimore recovered the government by the aid of the police, and religious toleration was restored. maryland remained under this system of government until the revolution, which will be referred to later on in the most thrilling set of original pictures and word-paintings that the reader has ever met with. * * * * * questions for examination. _q._ who was william penn? _a._ he founded pennsylvania. _q._ was he a great fighter? _a._ no. he was a peaceable man, and did not believe in killing men or fighting. _q._ would he have fought for a purse of forty thousand dollars? _a._ no. he could do better buying coal lands of the indians. _q._ what is religious freedom? _a._ it is the art of giving intolerance a little more room. _q._ who was lord baltimore? _a._ see foregoing chapter. _q._ what do you understand by rebellion? _a._ it is an unsuccessful attempt by armed subjects to overcome the parent government. _q._ is it right or wrong? _a._ i do not know, but will go and inquire. chapter x. the early aristocracy. lord clarendon and several other noblemen in 1663 obtained from charles ii. a grant of lands lying south of virginia which they called carolina in honor of the king, whose name was not really carolina. possibly that was his middle name, however, or his name in latin. the albemarle colony was first on the ground. then there was a carteret colony in 1670. they "removed the ancient groves covered with yellow jessamine" on the ashley, and began to build on the present site of charleston. the historian remarks that the growth of this colony was rapid from the first. the dutch, dissatisfied with the way matters were conducted in new york, and worn out when shopping by the ennui and impudence of the salesladies, came to charleston in large numbers, and the huguenots in charleston found a hearty southern welcome, and did their trading there altogether. we now pass on to speak of the grand model which was set up as a five-cent aristocracy by lord shaftesbury and the great philosopher john locke. the canebrakes and swamps of the wild and snake-infested jungles of the wilderness were to be divided into vast estates, over which were proprietors with hereditary titles and outing flannels. this scheme recognized no rights of self-government whatever, and denied the very freedom which the people came there in search of. so there were murmurings among those people who had not brought their finger-bowls and equerries with them. [illustration: aristocracy snubbed.] in short, aristocracy did not do well on this soil. baronial castles, with hot and cold water in them, were often neglected, because the colonists would not forsake their own lands to the thistle and blue-nosed brier in order to come and cook victuals for the baronial castles or sweep out the baronial halls and wax the baronial floors for a journeyman juke who ate custard pie with a knife and drank tea from his saucer through a king charles moustache. thus the aristocracy was forced to close its doors, and the arms of lord shaftesbury were so humiliated that he could no longer put up his dukes (see appendix). there had also been a great deal of friction between the albemarle or carteret and the charleston set, the former being from virginia, while the latter was, as we have seen, a little given to kindergarten aristocracy and ofttimes tripped up on their parade swords while at the plough. of course outside of this were the plebeian people, or copperas-culottes, who did the work; but lord shaftesbury for some time, as we have seen, lived in a baronial shed and had his arms worked on the left breast of his nighty. so these two colonies finally became separate states in the union, though there is yet something of the same feeling between the people. wealthy people come to the mountains of north carolina from south carolina for the cool summer breezes of the old north state, and have to pay two dollars per breeze even up to the past summer. thus there was constant irritation and disgust up to 1729 at least, regarding taxes, rents, and rights, until, as the historian says, "the discouraged proprietors ceded their rights to the crown." [illustration: two dollars per breeze.] it will be noticed that the crown was well ceded by this time, and the poet's remark seems at this time far grander and more apropos than any language of the writer could be: so it is given here,--viz., "uneasy lies the head that wears a seedy crown." (see appendix.) the year of washington's birth, viz., 1732, witnessed the birth of the baby colony of georgia. james oglethorpe, a kind-hearted man, with a wig that fooled more than one poor child of the forest, conceived the idea of founding a refuge for englishmen who could not pay up. the laws were very arbitrary then, and harsh to a degree. many were imprisoned then in england for debt, but those who visit london now will notice that they are at liberty. [illustration: oglethorpe's wig.] oglethorpe was an officer and a gentleman, and this scheme showed his generous nature and philanthropic disposition. george ii. granted him in trust for the poor a tract of land called, in honor of the king, georgie, which has recently been changed to georgia. the enterprise prospered remarkably, and generous and charitable people aided it in every possible way. people who had not been able for years to pay their debts came to georgia and bought large tracts of land or began merchandising with the indians. thousands of acres of rich cotton-lands were exchanged by the indians for orders on the store, they giving warranty deeds to same, reserving only the rights of piscary and massacre. [illustration: not paid their debts for years.] oglethorpe got along with the indians first-rate, and won their friendship. one great chief, having received a present from oglethorpe consisting of a manicure set, on the following christmas gave oglethorpe a beautiful buffalo robe, on the inside of which were painted an eagle and a portable bath-tub, signifying, as the chief stated, that the buffalo was the emblem of strength, the eagle of swiftness, and the bath-tub the advertisement of cleanliness. "thus," said the chief, "the english are strong as the buffalo, swift as the eagle, and love to convey the idea that they are just about to take a bath when you came and interrupted them." the moravians also came to georgia, and the scotch highlanders. on the arrival of the latter, the georgia mosquitoes held a mass meeting, at which speeches were made, and songs sung, and resolutions adopted making the highland uniform the approved costume for the entire coast during summer. [illustration: the mosquitoes liked the costume.] george whitefield the eloquent, who often addressed audiences (even in those days, when advertising was still in its infancy and the advance agent was unheard of) of from five thousand to forty thousand people, founded an orphan asylum. one audience consisted of sixty thousand people. the money from this work all went to help and sustain the orphan asylum. while reading of him we are reminded of our own dr. talmage, who is said to be the wealthiest apostle on the road. the trustees of georgia limited the size of a man's farm, did not allow women to inherit land, and forbade the importation of rum or of slaves. several of these rules were afterwards altered, so that as late as 1893 at least a gentleman from washington, d.c., well known for his truth and honesty, saw rum inside the state twice, though bourbon whiskey was preferred. slaves also were found inside the state, and the negro is seen there even now; but the popularity of a negro baby is nothing now to what it was at the time when this class of goods went up to the top notch. need i add that after a while the people became dissatisfied with these rules and finally the whole matter was ceded to the crown? from this time on georgia remained a royal province up to the revolution. since that very little has been said about ceding it to the crown. north carolina also remained an english colony up to the same period, and, though one of the original thirteen colonies, is still far more sparsely settled than some of the western states. virginia dare was the first white child born in america. she selected roanoke, now in north carolina, in august, 1587, as her birthplace. she was a grand-daughter of the governor, john white. her fate, like that of the rest of the colony, is unknown to this day. * * * * * the author begs leave to express his thanks here for the valuable aid furnished him by the following works,--viz.: "the horse and his diseases," by mr. astor; "life and times of john oglethorpe," by elias g. merritt; "how to make the garden pay," by peter henderson; "over the purple hills," by mrs. churchill, of denver, colorado, and "he played on the harp of a thousand strings, and the spirits of just men made perfect," by s. p. avery. chapter xi. intercolonial and indian wars. intercolonial and indian wars furnished excitement now from 1689 into the early part of the eighteenth century. war broke out in europe between the french and english, and the colonies had to take sides, as did also the indians. canadians and indians would come down into york state or new england, burn a town, tomahawk quite a number of people, then go back on snow-shoes, having entered the town on rubbers, like a decayed show with no printing. there was an attack on haverhill in march, 1697, and a mr. dustin was at work in the field. he ran to his house and got his seven children ahead of him, while with his gun he protected their rear till he got them away safely. mrs. dustin, however, who ran back into the house to remove a pie from the oven as she feared it was burning, was captured, and, with a boy of the neighborhood, taken to an island in the merrimac, where the indians camped. at night she woke the boy, told him how to hit an indian with a tomahawk so that "the subsequent proceedings would interest him no more," and that evening the two stole forth while the ten indians slept, knocked in their thinks, scalped them to prove their story, and passed on to safety. mrs. dustin kept those scalps for many years, showing them to her friends to amuse them. king william's war lasted eight years. queen anne's war lasted from 1702 to 1713. the brunt of this war fell on new england. our forefathers had to live in block-houses, with barbed-wire fences around them, and carry their guns with them all the time. from planting the indian with a shotgun, they soon got to planting their corn with the same agricultural instrument in the stony soil. the french and spanish tried to take charleston in 1706, but were repulsed with great loss, consisting principally of time which they might have employed in raising frogs' legs and tantalizing a bull at so much per tant. this war lasted eleven years, including stops, and was ended by the treaty of utrecht (pronounced you-trecked). after this, what was called the spanish war continued between england and spain for some time. an attempt to capture georgia was made, and a garrison established itself there, with good prospects of taking in the state under spanish rule, but our able friend oglethorpe, the henry w. grady of his time, managed to accidentally mislay a letter which fell into the enemy's hands, the contents of which showed that enormous reinforcements were expected at any moment. this was swallowed comfortably by the commander, who blew up his impregnable works, changed the address of his _atlanta constitution_, and sailed for home. oglethorpe wore a wig, but was otherwise one of our greatest minds. it is said that anybody at a distance of two miles on a clear day could readily distinguish that it was a wig, and yet he died believing that no one had ever probed his great mystery and that his wig would rise with him at the playing of the last trump. [illustration: believing his wig would rise with him.] king george's war, which extended over four years, succeeded, but did not amount to anything except the capture of cape breton by english and colonial troops. cape breton was called the gibraltar of america; but a yankee farmer who has raised flax on an upright farm for twenty years does not mind scaling a couple of gibraltars before breakfast; so, without any west point knowledge regarding engineering, they walked up the hill, and those who were alive when they got to the top took it. it was no balaklava business and no dumb animal show, but simply revealed the fact that brave men fighting for their eight-dollar homes and a mass of children are disagreeable people to meet on the battle-field. the french and indian war lasted nine years,--viz., from 1754 to 1763. from quebec to new orleans the french owned the land, and mixed up a good deal socially with the indians, so that the slender settlement along the coast had arrayed against it this vast line of northern and western forts, and the indians, who were mostly friendly with the french, united with them in several instances and showed them some new styles of barbarism which up to that time they had never known about. the half-breed is always half french and half indian. the english owned all lands lying on one side of the ohio, the french on the other, which led a great chief to make a p. p. c. call on governor dinwiddie, and during the conversation to inquire with some _naïveté_ where the indian came in. no answer was ever received. we pause here to ask the question, why did the pale-face usurp the lands of the indians without remuneration? it was because the indian was not orthodox. he may have been lazy from a puritanical stand-point, and he may also have hunted on the twenty-seventh sunday after easter; but still was it not right that he should have received a dollar or two per county for the united states? no one would have felt it, and possibly it might have saved the lives of innocent people. _verbum sap._, however, comes in here with peculiar appropriateness, and the massive-browed historian passes on. the french had three forts along in the middle states, as they are now called, and western pennsylvania; and george washington, of whom more will be said in the twelfth chapter, was sent to ask the french to remove these forts. he started at once. [illustration: pleasure of being arrested in paris.] the commanders were some of them arrogant, but the general, st. pierre, treated him with great respect, refusing, however, to yield the ground discovered by la salle and marquette. the author had the pleasure of being arrested in paris in 1889, and he feels of a truth, as he often does, that there can be no more polite people in the world than the french. arrested under all circumstances and in many lands, the author can place his hand on his heart and say that he would go hundreds of miles to be arrested by a john darm. washington returned four hundred miles through every kind of danger, including a lunch at altoona, where he stopped twenty minutes. the following spring washington was sent under general fry to drive out the french, who had started farming at pittsburg. fry died, and washington took command. he liked it very much. after that washington took command whenever he could, and soon rose to be a great man. the first expedition against fort duquesne (pronounced du-kane) was commanded by general braddock, whose portrait we are able to give, showing him at the time he did not take washington's advice in the duquesne matter. later we show him as he appeared after he had abandoned his original plans and immediately after not taking washington's advice. [illustration: general braddock scorning washington's advice.] "the indians," said braddock, "may frighten colonial troops, but they can make no impression on the king's regulars. we are alike impervious to fun or fear." braddock thought of fighting the indians by man[oe]uvring in large bodies, but the first body to be man[oe]uvred was that of general braddock, who perished in about a minute. [illustration: general braddock after scorning washington's advice.] we give the reader, above, an idea of braddock's soldierly bearing after he had been man[oe]uvring a few times. it was then that washington took command, as was his custom, and began to fight the indians and french as one would hunt varmints in virginia. braddock's men fired by platoons into the trees and tore a few holes in the state line, but when most of the colonial troops were dead the regulars presented their tournures to the foe and fled as far as philadelphia, where they each took a bath and had some laundry-work done. general forbes took command of the second expedition. he spent most of his time building roads. time passed on, and forbes built viaducts, conduits, culverts, and rustic bridges, till it was november, and they were yet fifty miles from the fort. he then decided to abandon the expedition, on account of the cold, and also fearing that he had not made all of his bridges wide enough so that he could take the captured fort home with him. washington, however, though only an aidy kong of general forbes, decided to take command. his mother had said to him over and over, "george, in an emergency always take command." he done so, as general rusk would say. as he approached, the french set fire to the fort, and retreated, together with the indians and molly maguires. pittsburg now stands on this historic ground, and is one of the most delightful cities of america. many other changes were going on at this time. the english got possession of acadia and the french forts at the head of the bay of fundy. in 1757 general loudon collected an army for an attack on louisburg. he drilled his troops all summer, and then gave up the attack because he learned that the french had one more skiff than he had. the loudons of america at the time of this writing are more quiet and sensible regarding their ancestry than any of the doodle-bug aristocracy of our promoted peasantry and the crested yahoos of our cowboy republic. the loudons--or lowdowns--of america had a very large family. some of them changed their names and moved. the next year after the _fox pass_ of general loudon, amherst and wolfe took possession of the entire island. about the time of braddock's justly celebrated expedition another started out for crown point. the french, under dieskau (pronounced dees-kow), met the army composed of colonial troops in plain clothes, together with the regular troops led by officers with drawn swords and overdrawn salaries. the regular general, seeing that the battle was lost, excused himself and retired to his tent, owing to an ingrowing nail which had annoyed him all day. lyman, the colonial officer now took command, and wrung victory from the reluctant jaws of defeat. for this johnson, the english general, received twenty-five thousand dollars and a baronetcy, while lyman received a plated butter-dish and a bass-wood what-not. but lyman was a married man, and had learned to take things as they came. four months prior to the capture of duquesne, one thousand boats loaded with soldiers, each with a neat little lunch-basket and a little flag to wave when they hurrahed for the good kind man at the head of the picnic,--viz., general abercrombie,--sailed down lake george to get a whiff of fresh air and take ticonderoga. when they arrived, general abercrombie took out a small book regarding tactics which he had bought on the boat, and, after refreshing his memory, ordered an assault. he then went back to see how his rear was, and, finding it all right, he went back still farther, to see if no one had been left behind. [illustration: abercrombie went back to the rear.] abercrombie never forgot or overlooked any one. he wanted all of his pleasure-party to be where they could see the fight. in that way he missed it himself. i would hate to miss a fight that way. the abercrombies of america mostly trace their ancestry back by a cut-off avoiding the general's line. niagara had an expedition sent against it at the time of braddock's trip. the commander was general shirley, but he ran out of money while at the falls and decided to return. this post did not finally surrender till 1759. this gave the then west to the english. they had tried for one hundred and forty years to civilize it, but, alas, with only moderate success. prosperous and happy even while sniping in their fox-hunting or canvas-back-duck clothes, these people feel somewhat soothed for their lack of culture because they are well-to-do. in 1759 general wolfe anchored off quebec with his fleet and sent a boy up town to ask if there were any letters for him at the post-office, also asking at what time it would be convenient to evacuate the place. the reply came back from general montcalm, an able french general, that there was no mail for the general, but if wolfe was dissatisfied with the report he might run up personally and look over the w's. wolfe did so, taking his troops up by an unknown cow-path on the off side of the mountain during the night, and at daylight stood in battle-array on the plains of abraham. an attack was made by montcalm as soon as he got over his wonder and surprise. at the third fire wolfe was fatally wounded, and as he was carried back to the rear he heard some one exclaim,-"they run! they run!" "who run?" inquired wolfe. "the french! the french!" came the reply. "now god be praised," said wolfe, "i die happy." montcalm had a similar experience. he was fatally wounded. "they run! they run!" he heard some one say. "who run?" exclaimed montcalm, wetting his lips with a lemonade-glass of cognac. "we do," replied the man. "then so much the better," said montcalm, as his eye lighted up, "for i shall not live to see quebec surrendered." this shows what can be done without a rehearsal; also how the historian has to control himself in order to avoid lying. the death of these two brave men is a beautiful and dramatic incident in the history of our country, and should be remembered by every school-boy, because neither lived to write articles criticising the other. five days later the city capitulated. an attempt was made to recapture it, but it was not successful. canada fell into the hands of the english, and from the open polar sea to the mississippi the english flag floated. what an empire! what a game-preserve! florida was now ceded to the already cedy crown of england by spain, and brandy-and-soda for the wealthy and bitter beer became the drink of the poor. [illustration: remained by it till death.] pontiac's war was brought on by the indians, who preferred the french occupation to that of the english. pontiac organized a large number of tribes on the spoils plan, and captured eight forts. he killed a great many people, burned their dwellings, and drove out many more, but at last his tribes made trouble, as there were not spoils enough to go around, and his army was conquered. he was killed in 1769 by an indian who received for his trouble a barrel of liquor, with which he began to make merry. he remained by the liquor till death came to his relief. the heroism of an indian who meets his enemy single-handed in that way, and, though greatly outnumbered, dies with his face to the foe, is deserving of more than a passing notice. the french and indian war cost the colonists sixteen million dollars, of which the english repaid only five million. the americans lost thirty thousand men, none of whom were replaced. they suffered every kind of horror and barbarity, written and unwritten, and for years their taxes were two-thirds of their income; and yet they did not murmur. these were the fathers and mothers of whom we justly brag. these were the people whose children we are. what are inherited titles and ancient names many times since dishonored, compared with the heritage of uncomplaining suffering and heroism which we boast of to-day because those modest martyrs were working people, proud that by the sweat of their brows they wrung from a niggardly soil the food they ate, proud also that they could leave the plough to govern or to legislate, able also to survey a county or rule a nation. chapter xii. personality of washington. it would seem that a few personal remarks about george washington at this point might not be out of place. later on his part in this history will more fully appear. [illustration] the author points with some pride to a study of washington's great act in crossing the delaware, from a wax-work of great accuracy. the reader will avoid confusing washington with the author, who is dressed in a plaid suit and on the shore, while washington may be seen in this end of the boat with the air of one who has just discovered the location of a glue-factory on the side of the river. a directory of washington's head-quarters has been arranged by the author of this book, and at a reunion of the general's body-servants to be held in the future the work will be on sale. the name of george washington has always had about it a glamour that made him appear more in the light of a god than a tall man with large feet and a mouth made to fit an old-fashioned full-dress pumpkin pie. [illustration: study of washington crossing the delaware.] [illustration: my greatest work.] george washington's face has beamed out upon us for many years now, on postage-stamps and currency, in marble and plaster and in bronze, in photographs of original portraits, paintings, and stereoscopic views. we have seen him on horseback and on foot, on the war-path and on skates, playing the flute, cussing his troops for their shiftlessness, and then, in the solitude of the forest, with his snorting war-horse tied to a tree, engaged in prayer. we have seen all these pictures of george, till we are led to believe that he did not breathe our air or eat american groceries. but george washington was not perfect. i say this after a long and careful study of his life, and i do not say it to detract the very smallest iota from the proud history of the father of his country. i say it simply that the boys of america who want to become george washingtons will not feel so timid about trying it. [illustration: washington playing the flute.] when i say that george washington, who now lies so calmly in the lime-kiln at mount vernon, could reprimand and reproach his subordinates, at times, in a way to make the ground crack open and break up the ice in the delaware a week earlier than usual, i do not mention it in order to show the boys of our day that profanity will make them resemble george washington. that was one of his weak points, and no doubt he was ashamed of it, as he ought to have been. some poets think that if they get drunk and stay drunk they will resemble edgar a. poe and george d. prentice. there are lawyers who play poker year after year and get regularly skinned because they have heard that some of the able lawyers of the past century used to come home at night with poker-chips in their pockets. whiskey will not make a poet, nor poker a great pleader. and yet i have seen poets who relied on the potency of their breath, and lawyers who knew more of the habits of a bobtail flush than they ever did of the statutes in such case made and provided. [illustration: the awkward squad.] george washington was always ready. if you wanted a man to be first in war, you could call on george. if you desired an adult who would be first baseman in time of peace, mr. washington could be telephoned at any hour of the day or night. if you needed a man to be first in the hearts of his countrymen, george's post-office address was at once secured. though he was a great man, he was once a poor boy. how often you hear that in america! here it is a positive disadvantage to be born wealthy. and yet sometimes i wish they had experimented a little that way on me. i do not ask now to be born rich, of course, because it is too late; but it seems to me that, with my natural good sense and keen insight into human nature, i could have struggled along under the burdens and cares of wealth with great success. i do not care to die wealthy, but if i could have been born wealthy it seems to me i would have been tickled almost to death. i love to believe that true greatness is not accidental. to think and to say that greatness is a lottery, is pernicious. man may be wrong sometimes in his judgment of others, both individually and in the aggregate, but he who gets ready to be a great man will surely find the opportunity. you will wonder whom i got to write this sentiment for me, but you will never find out. in conclusion, let me say that george washington was successful for three reasons. one was that he never shook the confidence of his friends. another was that he had a strong will without being a mule. some people cannot distinguish between being firm and being a big blue donkey. another reason why washington is loved and honored to-day is that he died before we had a chance to get tired of him. this is greatly superior to the method adopted by many modern statesmen, who wait till their constituency weary of them, and then reluctantly pass away. * * * * * n. b.--since writing the foregoing i have found that washington was not born a poor boy,--a discovery which redounds greatly to his credit,--that he was able to accomplish so much, and yet could get his weekly spending money and sport a french nurse in his extreme youth. b. n. chapter xiii. contrasts with the present day. here it may be well to speak briefly of the contrast between the usages and customs of the period preceding the revolution, and the present day. some of these customs and regulations have improved with the lapse of time, others undoubtedly have not. two millions of people constituted the entire number of whites, while away to the westward the red brother extended indefinitely. religiously they were protestants, and essentially they were "a god-fearing people." taught to obey a power they were afraid of, they naturally turned with delight to the service of a god whose genius in the erection of a boundless and successful hell challenged their admiration and esteem. so, too, their own executions of divine laws were successful as they gave pain, and the most beautiful features of christianity,--namely, love and charity,--according to history, were not cultivated very much. there were in new england at one time twelve offences punishable with death, and in virginia seventeen. this would indicate that the death-penalty is getting unpopular very fast, and that in the contiguous future humane people will wonder why murder should have called for murder, in this brainy, charitable, and occult age, in which man seems almost able to pry open the future and catch a glimpse of destiny underneath the great tent that has heretofore held him off by means of death's prohibitory rates. [illustration: the town watchman.] in hartford people had to get up when the town watchman rang his bell. the affairs of the family, and private matters too numerous to mention, were regulated by the selectmen. the catalogues of harvard and yale were regulated according to the standing of the family as per record in the old country, and not as per bust measurement and merit, as it is to-day. scolding women, however, were gagged and tied to their front doors, so that the populace could bite its thumb at them, and hired girls received fifty dollars a year, with the understanding that they were not to have over two days out each week, except sunday and the days they had to go and see their "sick sisters." some cloth-weaving was indulged in, and homespun was the principal material used for clothing. mrs. washington had sixteen spinning-wheels in her house. her husband often wore homespun while at home, and on rainy days sometimes placed a pair of home-made trousers of the barn-door variety in the presidential chair. money was very scarce, and ammunition very valuable. in 1635 musket-balls passed for farthings, and to see a new england peasant making change with the red brother at thirty yards was a common and delightful scene. the first press was set up in cambridge in 1639, with the statement that it "had come to stay." books printed in those days were mostly sermons filled with the most comfortable assurance that the man who let loose his intellect and allowed it to disbelieve some very difficult things would be essentially----well, i hate to say right here in a book what would happen to him. [illustration: books filled with assurances of future damnation.] the first daily paper, called _the federal orrery_, was issued three hundred years after columbus discovered america. it was not popular, and killed off the news-boys who tried to call it on the streets: so it perished. there was a public library in new york, from which books were loaned at fourpence ha'penny per week. new york thus became very early the seat of learning, and soon afterwards began to abuse the site where chicago now stands. travel was slow, the people went on horseback or afoot, and when they could go by boat it was regarded as a success. wagons finally made the trip from new york to philadelphia in the wild time of forty-eight hours, and the line was called the flying dutchman, or some other euphonious name. benjamin franklin, whose biography occurs in chapter xv., was then postmaster-general. he was the first bald-headed man of any prominence in the history of america. he and his daughter sally took a trip in a chaise, looking over the entire system, and going to all offices. nothing pleased the postmaster-general like quietly slipping into a place like sandy bottom and catching the postmaster reading over the postal cards and committing them to memory. calfskin shoes up to the revolution were the exclusive property of the gentry, and the rest wore cowhide and were extremely glad to mend them themselves. these were greased every week with tallow, and could be worn on either foot with impunity. rights and lefts were never thought of until after the revolutionary war, but to-day the american shoe is the most symmetrical, comfortable, and satisfactory shoe made in the world. the british shoe is said to be more comfortable. possibly for a british foot it is so, but for a foot containing no breathing-apparatus or viscera it is somewhat roomy and clumsy. [illustration: caught by franklin reading postal cards.] farmers and laborers of those days wore green or red baize in the shape of jackets, and their breeches were made of leather or bed-ticking. our ancestors dressed plainly, and a man who could not make over two hundred pounds per year was prohibited from dressing up or wearing lace worth over two shillings per yard. it was a pretty sad time for literary men, as they were thus compelled to wear clothing like the common laborers. lord cornwallis once asked his aidy kong why the american poet always had such an air of listening as if for some expected sound. "i give it up," retorted the aidy kong. "it is," said lord cornwallis, as he took a large drink from a jug which he had tied to his saddle, "because he is trying to see if he cannot hear his bed-ticking." on the following day he surrendered his army, and went home to spring his _bon-mot_ on george iii. yet the laws were very stringent in other respects besides apparel. a man was publicly whipped for killing a fowl on the sabbath in new england. in order to keep a tavern and sell rum, one had to be of good moral character and possess property, which was a good thing. the names of drunkards were posted up in the alehouses, and the keepers forbidden to sell them liquor. no person under twenty years of age could use tobacco in connecticut without a physician's order, and no one was allowed to use it more than once a day, and then not within ten miles of any house. it was a common thing to see large picnic-parties going out into the backwoods of connecticut to smoke. (will the reader excuse me a moment while i light up a peculiarly black and redolent pipe?) [illustration: lord cornwallis's conundrum.] only the gentry were called mr. and mrs. this included the preacher and his wife. a friend of mine who is one of the gentry of this century got on the trail of his ancestry last spring, and traced them back to where they were not allowed to be called mr. and mrs., and, fearing he would fetch up in scotland yard if he kept on, he slowly unrolled the bottoms of his trousers, got a job on the railroad, and since then his friends are gradually returning to him. he is well pleased now, and looks humbly gratified even if you call him a gent. the scriptures were literally interpreted, and the old testament was read every morning, even if the ladies fainted. the custom yet noticed sometimes in country churches and festive gatherings of placing the males and females on opposite sides of the room was originated not so much as a punishment to both, as to give the men an opportunity to act together when the red brother felt ill at ease. i am glad the red brother does not molest us nowadays, and make us sit apart that way. keep away, red brother; remain on your reservation, please, so that the pale-face may sit by the loved one and hold her little soft hand during the sermon. church services meant business in those days. people brought their dinners and had a general penitential gorge. instrumental music was proscribed, as per amos fifth chapter and twenty-third verse, and the length of prayer was measured by the physical endurance of the performer. the preacher often boiled his sermon down to four hours, and the sexton up-ended the hourglass each hour. boys who went to sleep in church were sand-bagged, and grew up to be border murderers. new york people were essentially dutch. new york gets her santa claus, her doughnuts, crullers, cookies, and many of her odors, from the dutch. the new york matron ran to fine linen and a polished door-knocker, while the new england housewife spun linsey-woolsey and knit "yarn mittens" for those she loved. philadelphia was the largest city in the united states, and was noted for its cleanliness and generally sterling qualities of mind and heart, its sabbath trance and clean white door-steps. the southern colonies were quite different from those of the north. in place of thickly-settled towns there were large plantations with african villages near the house of the owner. the proprietor was a sort of country squire, living in considerable comfort for those days. he fed and clothed everybody, black or white, who lived on the estate, and waited patiently for the colored people to do his work and keep well, so that they would be more valuable. the colored people were blessed with children at a great rate, so that at this writing, though voteless, they send a large number of members to congress. this cheers the southern heart and partially recoups him for his chickens. (see appendix.) the south then, as now, cured immense quantities of tobacco, while the north tried to cure those who used it. washington was a virginian. he packed his own flour with his own hands, and it was never inspected. people who knew him said that the only man who ever tried to inspect washington's flour was buried under a hill of choice watermelons at mount vernon. along the james and rappahannock the vast estates often passed from father to son according to the law of entail, and such a thing as a poor man "prior to the war" must have been unknown. [illustration: not rich before the war.] education, however, flourished more at the north, owing partly to the fact that the people lived more in communities. governor berkeley of virginia was opposed to free schools from the start, and said, "i thank god there are no free schools nor printing-presses here, and i hope we shall not have them these hundred years." his prayer has been answered. chapter xiv. the revolutionary war. william pitt was partly to blame for the revolutionary war. he claimed that the colonists ought not to manufacture so much as a horseshoe nail except by permission of parliament. it was already hard enough to be a colonist, without the privilege of expressing one's self even to an indian without being fined. but when we pause to think that england seemed to demand that the colonist should take the long wet walk to liverpool during a busy season of the year to get his horse shod, we say at once that p. henry was right when he exclaimed that the war was inevitable and moved that permission be granted for it to come. then came the stamp act, making almost everything illegal that was not written on stamp paper furnished by the maternal country. john adams, patrick henry, and john otis made speeches regarding the situation. bells were tolled, and fasting and prayer marked the first of november, the day for the law to go into effect. these things alarmed england for the time, and the stamp act was repealed; but the king, who had been pretty free with his money and had entertained a good deal, began to look out for a chance to tax the colonists, and ordered his exchequer board to attend to it. patrick henry got excited, and said in an early speech, "cæsar had his brutus, charles the first his cromwell, and george the third----" here he paused and took a long swig of pure water, and added, looking at the newspaper reporters, "if this be treason, make the most of it." he also said that george the third might profit by their example. a good many would like to know what he started out to say, but it is too hard to determine. [illustration: patrick henry.] boston ladies gave up tea and used the dried leaves of the raspberry, and the girls of 1777 graduated in homespun. could the iron heel of despotism crunch such a spirit of liberty as that? scarcely. in one family at newport four hundred and eighty-seven yards of cloth and thirty-six pairs of stockings were spun and made in eighteen months. when the war broke out it is estimated that each colonial soldier had twenty-seven pairs of blue woollen socks with white double heels and toes. does the intelligent reader believe that "tommy atkins," with two pairs of socks "and hit a-rainin'," could whip men with twenty-seven pairs each? not without restoratives. troops were now sent to restore order. they were clothed by the british government, but boarded around with the colonists. this was irritating to the people, because they had never met or called on the british troops. again, they did not know the troops were coming, and had made no provision for them. [illustration: the british boarding 'round.] boston was considered the hot-bed of the rebellion, and general gage was ordered to send two regiments of troops there. he did so, and a fight ensued, in which three citizens were killed. in looking over this incident, we must not forget that in those days three citizens went a good deal farther than they do now. the fight, however, was brief. general gage, getting into a side street, separated from his command, and, coming out on the common abruptly, he tried eight or nine more streets, but he came out each time on the common, until, torn with conflicting emotions, he hired a herdic, which took him around the corner to his quarters. on december 16, 1773, occurred the tea-party at boston, which must have been a good deal livelier than those of to-day. the historian regrets that he was not there; he would have tried to be the life of the party. england had finally so arranged the price of tea that, including the tax, it was cheaper in america than in the old country. this exasperated the patriots, who claimed that they were confronted by a theory and not a condition. at charleston this tea was stored in damp cellars, where it spoiled. new york and philadelphia returned their ships, but the british would not allow any shenanegin', as george iii. so tersely termed it, in boston. therefore a large party met in faneuil hall and decided that the tea should not be landed. a party made up as indians, and, going on board, threw the tea overboard. boston harbor, as far out as the bug light, even to-day, is said to be carpeted with tea-grounds. george iii. now closed boston harbor and made general gage governor of massachusetts. the virginia assembly murmured at this, and was dissolved and sent home without its mileage. [illustration: boston tea-party, 1773.] those opposed to royalty were termed whigs, those in favor were called tories. now they are called chappies or authors. on the 5th of september, 1774, the first continental congress assembled at philadelphia and was entertained by the clover club. congress acted slowly even then, and after considerable delay resolved that the conduct of great britain was, under the circumstances, uncalled for. it also voted to hold no intercourse with great britain, and decided not to visit shakespeare's grave unless the mother-country should apologize. [illustration: boston tea party, 1893.] in 1775, on the 19th of april, general gage sent out troops to see about some military stores at concord, but at lexington he met with a company of minute-men gathering on the village green. major pitcairn, who was in command of the tommies, rode up to the minute-men, and, drawing his bright new sheffield sword, exclaimed, "disperse, you rebels! throw down your arms and disperse!" or some such remark as that. the americans hated to do that, so they did not. in the skirmish that ensued, seven of their number were killed. thus opened the revolutionary war,--a contest which but for the earnestness and irritability of the americans would have been extremely brief. it showed the relative difference between the fighting qualities of soldiers who fight for two pounds ten shillings per month and those who fight because they have lost their temper. the regulars destroyed the stores, but on the way home they found every rock-pile hid an old-fashioned gun and minute-man. this shows that there must have been an enormous number of minute-men then. all the english who got back to boston were those who went out to reinforce the original command. the news went over the country like wildfire. these are the words of the historian. really, that is a poor comparison, for wildfire doesn't jump rivers and bays, or get up and eat breakfast by candle-light in order to be on the road and spread the news. general putnam left a pair of tired steers standing in the furrow, and rode one hundred miles without feed or water to boston. twenty thousand men were soon at work building intrenchments around boston, so that the english troops could not get out to the suburbs where many of them resided. [illustration: general putnam leaving a pair of tired steers.] i will now speak of the battle of bunker hill. this battle occurred june 17. the americans heard that their enemy intended to fortify bunker hill, and so they determined to do it themselves, in order to have it done in a way that would be a credit to the town. a body of men under colonel prescott, after prayer by the president of harvard university, marched to charlestown neck. they decided to fortify breed's hill, as it was more commanding, and all night long they kept on fortifying. the surprise of the english at daylight was well worth going from lowell to witness. howe sent three thousand men across and formed them on the landing. he marched them up the hill to within ten rods of the earth-works, when it occurred to prescott that it would now be the appropriate thing to fire. he made a statement of that kind to his troops, and those of the enemy who were alive went back to charlestown. but that was no place for them, as they had previously set it afire, so they came back up the hill, where they were once more well received and tendered the freedom of a future state. three times the english did this, when the ammunition in the fortifications gave out, and they charged with fixed bayonets and reinforcements. the americans were driven from the field, but it was a victory after all. it united the colonies and made them so vexed at the english that it took some time to bring on an era of good feeling. lord howe, referring afterwards to this battle, said that the americans did not stand up and fight like the regulars, suggesting that thereafter the colonial army should arrange itself in the following manner before a battle! [illustration: general howe's suggestion.] however, the suggestion was not acted on. the colonial soldiers declined to put on a bright red coat and a pill-box cap, that kept falling off in battle, thus delaying the carnage, but preferred to wear homespun which was of a neutral shade, and shoot their enemy from behind stumps. they said it was all right to dress up for a muster, but they preferred their working-clothes for fighting. after the war a statistician made the estimate that nine per cent. of the british troops were shot while ascertaining if their caps were on straight.[4] [illustration: putnam's flight.] general israel putnam was known as the champion rough rider of his day, and once when hotly pursued rode down three flights of steps, which, added to the flight he made from the english soldiers, made four flights. putnam knew not fear or cowardice, and his name even to-day is the synonyme for valor and heroism. [footnote 4: the authority given for this statement, i admit, is meagre, but it is as accurate as many of the figures by means of which people prove things.--b. n.] [illustration: franklin's morning hunt for his shoes.] chapter xv. benjamin franklin, ll.d., ph.g., f.r.s., etc. it is considered advisable by the historian at this time to say a word regarding dr. franklin, our fellow-townsman, and a journalist who was the charles a. dana of his time. franklin's memory will remain green when the names of the millionaires of to-day are forgotten. coextensive with the name of e. rosewater of the _omaha bee_ we will find that of benjamin franklin, whose bust sits above the fireplace of the writer at this moment, while a large etruscan hornet is making a phrenological examination of same. but let us proceed to more fully mark out the life and labors of this remarkable man. benjamin franklin, formerly of boston, came very near being an only child. if seventeen children had not come to bless the home of benjamin's parents they would have been childless. think of getting up in the morning and picking out your shoes and stockings from among seventeen pairs of them! imagine yourself a child, gentle reader, in a family where you would be called upon every morning to select your own cud of spruce gum from a collection of seventeen similar cuds stuck on a window-sill! and yet benjamin franklin never murmured or repined. he desired to go to sea, and to avoid this he was apprenticed to his brother james, who was a printer. it is said that franklin at once took hold of the great archimedean lever, and jerked it early and late in the interests of freedom. [illustration: the printer's towel.] it is claimed that franklin, at this time, invented the deadly weapon known as the printer's towel. he found that a common crash towel could be saturated with glue, molasses, antimony, concentrated lye, and roller-composition, and that after a few years of time and perspiration it would harden so that "a constant reader" or "veritas" could be stabbed with it and die soon. many believe that franklin's other scientific experiments were productive of more lasting benefit to mankind than this, but i do not agree with them. his paper was called the _new england courant_. it was edited jointly by james and benjamin franklin, and was started to supply a long-felt want. benjamin edited it a part of the time, and james a part of the time. the idea of having two editors was not for the purpose of giving volume to the editorial page, but it was necessary for one to run the paper while the other was in jail. in those days you could not sass the king, and then, when the king came in the office the next day and stopped his paper and took out his ad., put it off on "our informant" and go right along with the paper. you had to go to jail, while your subscribers wondered why their paper did not come, and the paste soured in the tin dippers in the sanctum, and the circus passed by on the other side. how many of us to-day, fellow-journalists, would be willing to stay in jail while the lawn festival and the kangaroo came and went? who of all our company would go to a prison-cell for the cause of freedom while a double-column ad. of sixteen aggregated circuses, and eleven congresses of ferocious beasts, fierce and fragrant from their native lair, went by us? at the age of seventeen ben got disgusted with his brother, and went to philadelphia and new york, where he got a chance to "sub" for a few weeks and then got a regular "sit." franklin was a good printer, and finally got to be a foreman. he made an excellent foreman, sitting by the hour in the composing-room and spitting on the stove, while he cussed the make-up and press-work of the other papers. then he would go into the editorial rooms and scare the editors to death with a wild shriek for more copy. he knew just how to conduct himself as a foreman so that strangers would think he owned the paper. [illustration: franklin as foreman.] in 1730, at the age of twenty-four, franklin married, and established the _pennsylvania gazette_. he was then regarded as a great man, and almost every one took his paper. franklin grew to be a great journalist, and spelled hard words with great fluency. he never tried to be a humorist in any of his newspaper work, and everybody respected him. along about 1746 he began to study the habits and construction of lightning, and inserted a local in his paper in which he said that he would be obliged to any of his readers who might notice any new or odd specimens of lightning, if they would send them in to the _gazette_ office for examination. every time there was a thunderstorm franklin would tell the foreman to edit the paper, and, armed with a string and an old door-key, he would go out on the hills and get enough lightning for a mess. [illustration: franklin experimenting with lightning.] [illustration: franklin visiting george iii.] in 1753 franklin was made postmaster of the colonies. he made a good postmaster-general, and people say there were fewer mistakes in distributing their mail then than there have ever been since. if a man mailed a letter in those days, old ben franklin saw that it went to where it was addressed. franklin frequently went over to england in those days, partly on business and partly to shock the king. he liked to go to the castle with his breeches tucked in his boots, figuratively speaking, and attract a great deal of attention. it looked odd to the english, of course, to see him come into the royal presence, and, leaning his wet umbrella up against the throne, ask the king, "how's trade?" franklin never put on any frills, but he was not afraid of a crowned head. he used to say, frequently, that a king to him was no more than a seven-spot. he did his best to prevent the revolutionary war, but he couldn't do it. patrick henry had said that the war was inevitable, and had given it permission to come, and it came. he also went to paris, and got acquainted with a few crowned heads there. they thought a good deal of him in paris, and offered him a corner lot if he would build there and start a paper. they also promised him the county printing; but he said, no, he would have to go back to america or his wife might get uneasy about him. franklin wrote "poor richard's almanac" in 1732 to 1757, and it was republished in england. franklin little thought, when he went to the throne-room in his leather riding-clothes and hung his hat on the throne, that he was inaugurating a custom of wearing groom clothes which would in these days be so popular among the english. dr. franklin entered philadelphia eating a loaf of bread and carrying a loaf under each arm, passing beneath the window of the girl to whom he afterwards gave his hand in marriage. [illustration: franklin entering philadelphia.] nearly everybody in america, except dr. mary walker, was once a poor boy. chapter xvi. the critical period. ethan allen and benedict arnold on the 10th of may led two small companies to ticonderoga, a strong fortress tremendously fortified, and with its name also across the front door. ethan allen, a brave vermonter born in connecticut, entered the sally-port, and was shot at by a guard whose musket failed to report. allen entered and demanded the surrender of the fortress. "by whose authority?" asked the commandant. "by the authority of the great jehovah and the continental congress," said allen, brandishing his naked sword at a great rate. "very well," said the officer: "if you put it on those grounds, all right, if you will excuse the appearance of things. we were just cleaning up, and everything is by the heels here." "never mind," said allen, who was the soul of politeness. "we put on no frills at home, and so we are ready to take things as we find them." the americans therefore got a large amount of munitions of war, both here and at crown point. general washington was now appointed commander-in-chief of all the troops at the second session of the continental congress. on his arrival at boston there were only fourteen thousand men. he took command under the historic elm at cambridge. he was dressed in a blue broadcloth coat with flaps and revers of same, trimmed with large beautiful buttons. he also wore buff small-clothes, with openings at the sides where pockets are now put in, but at that time given up to space. they were made in such a way as to prevent the naked eye from discovering at once whether he was in advance or retreat. he also wore silk stockings and a cocked hat. the lines of dryden starting off "mark his majestic fabric" were suggested by his appearance and general style. he always dressed well and rode a good horse, but at valley forge frosted his feet severely, and could have drawn a pension, "but no," said he, "i can still work at light employment, like being president, and so i will not ask for a pension." each soldier had less than nine cartridges, but washington managed to keep general gage penned up in boston, and, as gage knew very few people there, it was a dull winter for him. the boys of boston had built snow hills on the common, and used to slide down them to the ice below, but the british soldiers tore down their coasting-places and broke up the ice on the pond. they stood it a long time, rebuilding their playground as often as it was torn down, until the spirit of american freedom could endure it no longer. they then organized a committee consisting of eight boys who were noted for their great philosophical research, and with charles sumner muzzy, the eloquent savant from milk street, as chairman, the committee started for general gage's head-quarters, to confer with him regarding the matter. [illustration: intellectual triumph of the youth of boston over general gage.] in the picture mr. muzzy is seen addressing general gage. the boy in the centre with the colored glasses is marco bozzaris cobb, who discovered and first brought into use the idea of putting new orleans molasses into boston brown bread. to the left of mr. cobb is mr. jehoab nye, who afterwards became the rev. jehoab nye and worked with heart and voice for over eight of the best years of his life against the immorality of the codfish-ball, before he learned of its true relations towards society. above and between these two stands whomsoever j. opper, who wrote "how to make the garden pay" and "what responsible person will see that my grave is kept green?" in the background we see the tall form of wherewithal g. lumpy, who introduced the pompadour hair-cut into massachusetts and grew up to be a great man with enlarged joints but restricted ideas. charles sumner muzzy addressed general gage at some length, somewhat to the surprise of gage, who admitted in a few well-chosen words that the committee was right, and that if he had his way about it there should be no more trouble. charles was followed by marco bozzaris cobb, who spoke briefly of the boon of liberty, closing as follows: "we point with pride, sir, to the love of freedom, which is about the only excitement we have. we love our country, sir, whether we love anything else much or not. the distant wanderer of american birth, sir, pines for his country. 'oh, give me back,' he goes on to say, 'my own fair land across the bright blue sea, the land of beauty and of worth, the bright land of the free, where tyrant foot hath never trod, nor bigot forged a chain. oh, would that i were safely back in that bright land again!'" mr. wherewithal g. lumpy said he had hardly expected to be called upon, and so had not prepared himself, but this occasion forcibly brought to his mind the words also of the poet, "our country stands," said he, "with outstretched hands appealing to her boys; from them must flow her weal or woe, her anguish or her joys. a ship she rides on human tides which rise and sink anon: each giant wave may prove her grave, or bear her nobly on. the friends of right, with armor bright, a valiant christian band, through god her aid may yet be made, a blessing to our land." [illustration: general gage thinking it over.] general gage was completely overcome, and asked for a moment to go apart and think it over, which he did, returning with an air which reminded one of "ten nights in a bar-room." "you may go, my brave boys; and be assured that if my troops molest you in the future, or anywhere else, i will overpower them and strew the common with their corses. "of corse he will," said the hairy boy to the right of whomsoever j. opper, who afterwards became the father of a lad who grew up to be editor of the persiflage column of the _atlantic monthly_. thus the boys of america impressed general gage with their courage and patriotism and grew up to be good men. an expedition to canada was fitted out the same winter, and an attack made on quebec, in which general montgomery was killed and benedict arnold showed that he was a brave soldier, no matter how the historian may have hopped on him afterwards. the americans should not have tried to take canada. canada was, as henry clay once said, a persimmon a trifle too high for the american pole, and it is the belief of the historian, whose tears have often wet the pages of this record, that in the future canada will be what america is now, a free country with a national debt of her own, a flag of her own, an executive of her own, and a regular annual crisis of her own, like other nations. in 1776 boston was evacuated. washington, in order to ascertain whether lord howe had a call to fish, cut bait, or go ashore, began to fortify dorchester heights, march 17, and on the following morning he was not a little surprised to note the change. as the weather was raw, and he had been in-doors a good deal during the winter, lord howe felt the cold very keenly. he went to the window and looked at the americans, but he would come back chilly and ill-tempered to the fire each time. finally he hitched up and went away to halifax, where he had acquaintances. [illustration: lord howe felt the cold very keenly.] on june 28 an attack was made by the english on fort moultrie. it was built of palmetto logs, which are said to be the best thing in the world to shoot into if one wishes to recover the balls and use them again. palmetto logs accept and retain balls for many years, and are therefore good for forts. when the fleet got close enough to the fort so that the brave charlestonians could see the expression on the admiral's face, they turned loose with everything they had, grape, canister, solid shot, chain-shot, bar-shot, stove-lids, muffin-irons, newspaper cuts, etc., etc., so that the decks were swept of every living thing except the admiral. [illustration: jefferson dictating the declaration of independence.] general clinton by land tried to draw the attention of the rear gunners of the fort, but he was a poor draughtsman, and so retired, and both the land and naval forces quit charleston and went to new york, where board was not so high. july 4 was deemed a good time to write a declaration of independence and have it read in the grove. richard henry lee, of virginia, moved that "the united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states." john adams, of massachusetts, seconded the resolution. this was passed july 2, and the report of the committee appointed to draw up a declaration of independence was adopted july 4. [illustration: fac-simile of dictation.] the declaration was dictated by thomas jefferson, who wrote the most melodious english of any american of his time. jefferson had a vocabulary next to noah webster, with all the dramatic power of dan. he composed the piece one evening after his other work. we give a facsimile of the opening lines. philadelphia was a scene of great excitement. the streets were thronged, and people sat down on the nice clean door-steps with perfect recklessness, although the steps had just been cleaned with ammonia and wiped off with a chamois-skin. it was a day long to be remembered, and one that made george iii. wish that he had reconsidered his birth. in the steeple of the old state-house was a bell which had fortunately upon it the line "proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof." it was rung by the old man in charge, though he had lacked faith up to that moment in congress. he believed that congress would not pass the resolution and adopt the declaration till after election. [illustration: ringing the liberty bell.] thus was the era of good feeling inaugurated both north and south. there was no north then, no south, no east, no west; just one common country, with washington acting as father of same. oh, how nice it must have been! washington was one of the sweetest men in the united states. he gave his hand in marriage to a widow woman who had two children and a dark red farm in virginia. chapter xvii. the beginning of the end. the british army now numbered thirty thousand troops, while washington's entire command was not over seven thousand strong. the howes, one a general and the other an admiral, now turned their attention to new york. washington, however, was on the ground beforehand. howe's idea was to first capture brooklyn, so that he could have a place in which to sleep at nights while engaged in taking new york. the battle was brief. howe attacked the little army in front, while general clinton got around by a circuitous route to the rear of the colonial troops and cut them off. the americans lost one thousand men by death or capture. the prisoners were confined in the old sugar-house on liberty street, where they suffered the most miserable and indescribable deaths. the army of the americans fortunately escaped by fulton ferry in a fog, otherwise it would have been obliterated. washington now fortified harlem heights, and later withdrew to white plains. afterwards he retired to a fortified camp called north castle. howe feared to attack him there, and so sent the hessians, who captured fort washington, november 16. it looked scaly for the americans, as motley says, and philadelphia bade fair to join new york and other cities held by the british. the english van could be seen from the colonial rear column. the american troops were almost barefooted, and left their blood-stained tracks on the frozen road. it was at this time that washington crossed the delaware and thereby found himself on the other side; while howe decided to remain, as the river was freezing, and when the ice got strong enough, cross over and kill the americans at his leisure. had he followed the colonial army, it is quite sure now that the english would have conquered, and the author would have been the duke of sandy bottom, instead of a plain american citizen, unknown, unhonored, and unsung. [illustration: nye as the duke of sandy bottom.] washington decided that he must strike a daring blow while his troops had any hope or vitality left; and so on christmas night, after crossing the delaware as shown elsewhere, he fell on the hessians at trenton in the midst of their festivities, captured one thousand prisoners, and slew the leader. the hessians were having a symposium at the time, and though the commander received an important note of warning during the christmas dinner, he thrust it into his pocket and bade joy be unconfined. when daylight came, the hessians were mostly moving in alcoholic circles trying to find their guns. washington lost only four men, and two of those were frozen to death. the result of this fight gave the colonists courage and taught them at the same time that it would be best to avoid new jersey symposiums till after the war was over. having made such a hit in crossing the delaware, washington decided to repeat the performance on the 3d of january. he was attacked at trenton by cornwallis, who is known in history for his justly celebrated surrender. he waited till morning, having been repulsed at sundown. washington left his camp-fires burning, surrounded the british, captured two hundred prisoners, and got away to morristown heights in safety. if the ground had not frozen, general washington could not have moved his forty cannon; but, fortunately, the thermometer was again on his side, and he never lost a gun. september 11 the english got into the chesapeake, and washington announced in the papers that he would now fight the battle of the brandywine, which he did. [illustration: the colonial surprise-party at trenton.] marie jean paul roch yves gilbert motier, marquis de la fayette, fought bravely with the americans in this battle, twice having his name shot from under him. the patriots were routed, scoring a goose-egg and losing philadelphia. october 4, washington attacked the enemy at germantown, and was beaten back just as victory was arranging to perch on his banner. poor washington now retired to valley forge, where he put in about the dullest winter of his life. the english had not been so successful in the north. at first the americans could only delay burgoyne by felling trees in the path of his eight thousand men, which is a very unsatisfactory sort of warfare, but at last schuyler, who had borne the burden and heat of the day, was succeeded by gates, and good luck seemed to come slowly his way. a foolish boy with bullet-holes cut in his clothes ran into st. leger's troops, and out of breath told them to turn back or they would fill a drunkard's grave. officers asked him about the numbers of the enemy, and he pointed to the leaves of the trees, shrieked, and ran for his life. he ran several days, and was barely able to keep ahead of st. leger's troops by a neck. burgoyne at another time sent a detachment under colonel baum to take the stores at bennington, vermont. he was met by general stark and the militia. stark said, "here come the redcoats, and we must beat them to-day, or molly stark is a widow." this neat little remark made an instantaneous hit, and when they counted up their string of prisoners at night they found they had six hundred souls and a hessian. burgoyne now felt blue and unhappy. besides, his troops were covered with wood-ticks and had had no washing done for three weeks. he moved southward and attacked gates at bemis heights, or, as a british wit had it, "gave gates ajar," near saratoga. a wavering fight occupied the day, and then both armies turned in and fortified for two weeks. burgoyne saw that he was running out of food, and so was first to open fire. arnold, who had been deprived of his command since the last battle, probably to prevent his wiping out the entire enemy and getting promoted, was so maddened by the conflict that he dashed in before gates could put him in the guard-house, and at the head of his old command, and without authority or hat, led the attack. gates did not dare to come where arnold was, to order him back, for it was a very warm place where arnold was at the time. the enemy was thus driven to camp. arnold was shot in the same leg that was wounded at quebec; so he was borne back to the extreme rear, where he found gates eating a doughnut and speaking disrespectfully of arnold. a council was now held in burgoyne's tent, and on the question of renewing the fight stood six to six, when an eighteen-pound hot shot went through the tent, knocking a stylographic pen out of general burgoyne's hand. almost at once he decided to surrender, and the entire army of six thousand men was surrendered, together with arms, portable bath-tubs, and leather hat-boxes. the americans marched into their camp to the tune of yankee doodle, which is one of the most impudent compositions ever composed. [illustration: knocking a stylographic pen out of burgoyne's hand.] during the valley forge winter (1777-78) continental currency depreciated in value so that an officer's pay would not buy his clothes. many, having also spent their private funds for the prosecution of the war, were obliged to resign and hire out in the lumber woods in order to get food for their families. troops had no blankets, and straw was not to be had. it was extremely sad; but there was no wavering. officers were approached by the enemy with from one hundred to one thousand pounds if they would accept and use their influence to effect a reconciliation; but, with blazing eye and unfaltering attitude, each stated that he was not for sale, and returned to his frozen mud-hole to rest and dream of food and freedom. those were the untitled nobility from whom we sprung. let us look over our personal record and see if we are living lives that are worthy of such heroic sires. five minutes will now be given the reader to make a careful examination of his personal record. * * * * * in the spring the joyful news came across the sea that, through the efforts of benjamin franklin, france had acknowledged the independence of the united states, and a fleet was on the way to assist the struggling troops. the battle of monmouth occurred june 28. clinton succeeded howe, and, alarmed by the news of the french fleet, the government ordered clinton to concentrate his troops near new york, where there were better facilities for getting home. washington followed the enemy across new jersey, overtaking them at monmouth. lee was in command, and got his men tangled in a swamp where the mosquitoes were quite plenty, and, losing courage, ordered a retreat. washington arrived at that moment, and bitterly upbraided lee. he used the flanders method of upbraiding, it is said, and lee could not stand it. he started towards the enemy in preference to being there with washington, who was still rebuking him. the fight was renewed, and all day long they fought. when night came, clinton took his troops with him and went away where they could be by themselves. an effort was made to get up a fight between the french fleet and the english at newport for the championship, but a severe storm came up and prevented it. in july the wyoming massacre, under the management of the tories and indians, commanded by butler, took place in that beautiful valley near wilkes barre, pennsylvania. this massacre did more to make the indians and tories unpopular in this country than any other act of the war. the men were away in the army, and the women, children, and old men alone were left to the vengeance of the two varieties of savage. the indians had never had gospel privileges, but the tories had. otherwise they resembled each other. in 1779 the english seemed to have georgia and the south pretty well to themselves. prevost, the english general, made an attack on charleston, but, learning that lincoln was after him, decided that, as he had a telegram to meet a personal friend at savannah, he would go there. in september, lincoln, assisted by the french under d'estaing, attacked savannah. one thousand lives were lost, and d'estaing showed the white feather to advantage. count pulaski lost his life in this fight. he was a brave polish patriot, and his body was buried in the savannah river. the capture of stony point about this time by "mad anthony wayne" was one of the most brilliant battles of the war. [illustration: the only thing wayne was afraid of.] learning the countersign from a negro who sold strawberries to the british, the troops passed the guard over the bridge that covered the marsh, and, gagging the worthy inside guard, they marched up the hill with fixed bayonets and fixed the enemy to the number of six hundred. the countersign was, "the fort is won," and so it was, in less time than it takes to ejaculate the word "scat!" wayne was wounded at the outset, but was carried up the hill in command, with a bandage tied about his head. he was a brave man, and never knew in battle what fear was. yet, strange to say, a bat in his bed would make him start up and turn pale. chapter xviii. the close of the revolution. the atrocities introduced into this country by the tories and indians caused general sullivan to go out against the measly enemy, whip him near elmira, and destroy the fields of corn and villages in the genesee country, where the indian women were engaged in farming while their men-folks attended to the massacre industry. the weak point with the americans seemed to be lack of a suitable navy. a navy costs money, and the colonists were poor. in 1775 they fitted out several swift sailing-vessels, which did good service. inside of five years they captured over five hundred ships, cruised among the british isles, and it is reported that they captured war-vessels that were tied to the english wharves. [illustration: general gates's proper career.] paul jones had a method of running his vessel alongside the enemy's, lashing the two together, and then having it out with the crew, generally winning in a canter. his idea in lashing the two ships together was to have one good ship to ride home on. generally it was the one he captured, while his own, which was rotten, was allowed to go down. this was especially the case in the fight between the richard and the serapis, september 23, 1779. in 1780 the war was renewed in south carolina. charleston, after a forty days' siege, was forced to surrender. gates now took charge of the south, and also gave a sprinting exhibition at camden, where he was almost wiped off the face of the earth. he had only two troops left at the close of the battle, and they could not keep up with gates in the retreat. this battle and the retreat overheated gates and sowed the seeds of heart-disease, from which he never recovered. he should have chosen a more peaceful life, such as the hen-traffic, or the growth of asparagus for the market. benedict arnold has been severely reproached in history, but he was a brave soldier, and possibly serving under gates, who jealously kept him in the background, had a good deal to do with the little european dicker which so darkened his brilliant career as a soldier. [illustration: arnold's reception in england.] unhappy man! he was not well received in england, and, though a brilliant man, was forced to sit in a corner evening after evening and hear the english tell his humorous stories as their own. the carolinas were full of tories, and opposition to english rule was practically abandoned in the south for the time, with the exception of that made in a desultory swamp-warfare by the partisan bands with such leaders as marion, sumter, and pickens. two hundred thousand dollars of continental money was the sum now out. forty dollars of it would buy one dollar's worth of groceries; but the grocer had to know the customer pretty well, and even then it was more to accommodate than anything else that he sold at that price. the british flooded the country with a counterfeit that was rather better-looking than the genuine: so that by the time a man had paid six hundred dollars for a pair of boots, and the crooked bills had been picked out and others substituted, it made him feel that starting a republic was a mighty unpopular job. general arnold had married a tory lady, and lived in philadelphia while recovering from his wounds received at quebec and saratoga. he was rather a high roller, and ran behind, so that it is estimated that his bills there per month required a peach-basket-full of currency with which to pay them, as the currency was then quoted. besides, gates had worried him, and made him think that patriotism was mostly politics. he was also overbearing, and the people of philadelphia mobbed him once. he was reprimanded gently by washington, but arnold was haughty and yet humiliated. he got command of west point, a very important place indeed, and then arranged with clinton to swap it for six thousand three hundred and fifteen pounds and a colonelcy in the english army. major andré was appointed to confer with arnold, and got off the ship vulture to make his way to the appointed place, but it was daylight by that time, and the vulture, having been fired on, dropped down the river. andré now saw no way for him but to get back to new york; but at tarrytown he was met by three patriots, who caught his horse by the reins, and, though andré tried to tip them, he did not succeed. they found papers on his person, among them a copy of _punch_, which made them suspicious that he was not an american, and so he was tried and hanged as a spy. this was one of the saddest features of the american revolution, and should teach us to be careful how we go about in an enemy's country, also to use great care in selecting and subscribing for papers. in 1781, greene, who succeeded gates, took charge of the two thousand ragged and bony troops. january 17 he was attacked at cowpens by tarleton. the militia fell back, and the english made a grand charge, supposing victory to be within reach. but the wily and foxy troops turned at thirty yards and gave the undertaking business a boom that will never be forgotten. morgan was in command of the colonial forces. he went on looking for more regulars to kill, but soon ran up against cornwallis the surrenderer. general greene now joined morgan, and took charge of the retreat. at the yadkin river they crossed over ahead of cornwallis, when it began for to rain. when cornwallis came to the river he found it so swollen and restless that he decided not to cross. later he crossed higher up, and made for the fords of the dan at thirty miles a day, to head off the americans. greene beat him, however, by a length, and saved his troops. the writer has seen the place on the yadkin where cornwallis decided not to cross. it was one of the pivotal points of the war, and is of about medium height. a fight followed at guilford court-house, where the americans were driven back, but the enemy got thinned out so noticeably that cornwallis decided to retreat. he went back to washington on a bull run schedule, without pausing even for feed or water. cornwallis was greatly agitated, and the coat he wore at the time, and now shown in the smithsonian institution, shows distinctly the marks made where the colonists played checkers on the tail. the battle of eutaw springs, september 8, also greatly reduced the british forces at that point. arnold conducted a campaign into virginia, and was very brutal about it, killing a great many people who were strangers to him, and who had never harmed him, not knowing him, as the historian says, from "adam's off ox." cornwallis in this virginia and southern trip destroyed ten million dollars' worth of property, and then fortified himself at yorktown. washington decided to besiege yorktown, and, making a feint to fool clinton, set out for that place, visiting mount vernon _en route_ after an absence of six and a half years, though only stopping two days. washington was a soldier in the true sense, and, when a lad, was given a little hatchet by his father. george cut down some cherry-trees with this, in order to get the cherries without climbing the trees. one day his father discovered that the trees had been cut down, and spoke of it to the lad. "yes," said george, "i did it with my little hatchet; but i would rather cut down a thousand cherry-trees and tell the truth about it than be punished for it." "well said, my brave boy!" exclaimed the happy father as he emptied george's toy bank into his pocket in payment for the trees. "you took the words right out of my mouth." [illustration: george's father taking pay for the cherry-trees.] in speaking of the siege of yorktown, the historian says, "the most hearty good will prevailed." what more could you expect of a siege than that? cornwallis capitulated october 19. it was the most artistic capitulation he had ever given. the troops were arranged in two lines facing each other, british and american with their allies the french under rochambeau. people came from all over the country who had heard of cornwallis and his wonderful genius as a capitulator. they came for miles, and brought their lunches with them; but the general, who felt an unnecessary pique towards washington, refused to take part in the exercises himself, claiming that by the advice of his physicians he would have to remain in his tent, as they feared that he had over-capitulated himself already. he therefore sent his sword by general o'hara, and washington turned it over to lincoln, who had been obliged to surrender to the english at charleston. [illustration: cornwallis sending his sword by general o'hara.] the news reached philadelphia in the night, and when the watchman cried, "past two o'clock, and cornwallis is taken!" the people arose and went and prayed and laughed like lunatics, for they regarded the war as virtually ended. the old door-keeper of congress died of delight. thanks were returned to almighty god, and george washington's nomination was a sure thing. england decided that whoever counselled war any further was a public enemy, and lord north, then prime minister, when he heard of the surrender of cornwallis through a new york paper, exclaimed, "oh, god! it is all over!" washington now showed his sagacity in quelling the fears of the soldiers regarding their back pay. he was invited to become king, but, having had no practice, and fearing that he might run against a _coup d'état_ or _faux pas_, he declined, and spoke kindly against taking violent measures. in 1783, september 3, a treaty of peace was signed in paris, and washington, delivering the most successful farewell address ever penned, retired to mount vernon, where he began at once to enrich his farm with the suggestions he had received during his absence, and to calmly take up the life that had been interrupted by the tedious and disagreeable war. the country was free and independent, but, oh, how ignorant it was about the science of government! the author does not wish to be personal when he states that the country at that time did not know enough about affairs to carry water for a circus elephant. it was heavily in debt, with no power to raise money. new england refused to pay her poll-tax, and a party named shays directed his hired man to overturn the government; but a felon broke out on his thumb, and before he could put it down the crisis was averted and the country saved. [illustration: washington began at once to enrich his farm.] chapter xix. the first president. it now became the duty of the new republic to seek out the man to preside over it, and george washington seems to have had no rivals. he rather reluctantly left his home at mount vernon, where he was engaged in trying the rotation of crops, and solemnly took the oath to support the constitution of the united states, which had been adopted september 17, 1787. his trip in april, 1789, from mount vernon to the seat of government in new york was a simple but beautiful ovation. everybody tried to make it pleasant for him. he was asked at all the towns to build there, and 'most everybody wanted him "to come and make their house his home." when he got to the ferry he was not pushed off into the water by commuters, but lived to reach the old federal hall, where he was sworn in. in 1791 the seat of government was removed to philadelphia, where it remained for ten years, after which the united states took advantage of the homestead act and located on a tract of land ten miles square, known as the district of columbia. in 1846 that part of the district lying on the virginia side of the potomac was ceded back to the state. president washington did not have to escape from the capital to avoid office-seekers. he could get on a horse at his door and in five minutes be out of sight. he could remain in the forest back of his house until martha blew the horn signifying that the man who wanted the post-office at pigback had gone, and then he could return. [illustration: martha blew the horn.] how times have changed with the growth of the republic! now pigback has grown so that the name has been changed to hogback, and the president avails himself of every funeral that he can possibly feel an interest in, to leave the swarm of jobless applicants who come to pester him to death for appointments. the historian begs leave to say here that the usefulness of the president for the good of his country and the consideration of greater questions will some day be reduced to very little unless he may be able to avoid this effort to please voters who overestimate their greatness. it is said that washington had no library, which accounted for his originality. he was a vestryman in the episcopal church; and to see his tall and graceful form as he moved about from pew to pew collecting pence for home missions, was a lovely sight. as a boy he was well behaved and a careful student. at one time he was given a hatchet by his father, which---but what has the historian to do with this morbid wandering in search of truth? things were very much unsettled. england had not sent a minister to this country, and had arranged no commercial treaty with us. washington's cabinet consisted of three portfolios and a rack in which he kept his flute-music. the three ministers were the secretary of state, the secretary of war, and the secretary of the treasury. there was no attorney-general, or postmaster-general, or secretary of the interior, or of the navy, or seed catalogue secretary. hamilton, the secretary of the treasury, advised that congress at the earliest moment provide itself with a national debt, which was done, the war debt being assumed by the congressional representatives of the thirteen colonies. a tax was levied on spirits, and a mint started, combining the two, and making the mint encourage the consumption of spirits, and thus the increase of the tax, very likely. a whiskey rebellion broke out in 1794. pennsylvania especially rebelled at the tax on this grocery, but it was put down. (those wishing to know which was put down will find out by consulting the appendix, which will be issued a year from this winter.) a few indian wars now kept the people interested, and a large number of the red brothers, under little turtle, soon found themselves in the soup, as washington put it so tersely in his message the following year. twenty-five thousand square miles north of the ohio were obtained by treaty from the indians. england claimed that traffic with america was not desirable, as the americans did not pay their debts. possibly that was true, for muskrat pelts were low at that time, and england refused to take cord-wood and saw-logs piled on the new york landing as cash. chief-justice jay was sent to london to confer with the king, which he did. he was not invited, however, to come to the house during his stay, and the queen did not call on mrs. jay. the jays have never recovered from this snub, and are still gently guyed by the comic papers. but the treaty was negotiated, and now the americans are said to pay their debts as well as the nobility who marry our american girls instead of going into bankruptcy, as some would do. the mississippi and the mediterranean sea were opened for navigation to american vessels now, and things looked better, for we could by this means exchange our cranberries for sugar and barter our indian relics for camel's-hair shawls, of which the pioneers were very much in need during the rigorous winters in the north. the french now had a difficulty with england, and washington, who still remembered la fayette and the generous aid of the french, wished that he was back at mount vernon, working out his poll-tax on the virginia roads, for he was in a tight place. it was now thought best to have two political parties, in order to enliven editorial thought and expression. so the republican party, headed by jefferson, madison, and randolph, and the federalist party, led by hamilton and adams, were organized, and public speakers were engaged from a distance. the latter party supported the administration,--which was not so much of a job as it has been several times since. washington declined to accept a third term, and wrote a first-rate farewell address. a lady, whose name is withheld, writing of those times, closes by saying that president washington was one of the sweetest men she ever knew. [illustration: oil the gearing of the solar system.] john adams succeeded washington as president, and did not change his politics to amount to much. he made a good record as congressman, but lost it as president largely because of his egotism. he seemed to think that if he neglected to oil the gearing of the solar system about so often, it would stop running. we should learn from this to be humble even when we are in authority. adams and jefferson were good friends during the revolution, but afterwards political differences estranged them till they returned to private life. adams was a poor judge of men, and offended several members of the press who called on him to get his message in advance. our country was on the eve of a war with france, when napoleon i. was made consul, and peace followed. adams's administration made the federalists unpopular, owing to the alien and sedition laws, and jefferson was elected the successor of adams, burr running as vice-president with him. the election was so close that it went to the house, however. jefferson, or the sage of monticello, was a good president, noted for his simplicity. he married and brought his bride home to monticello prior to this. she had to come on horseback about one hundred miles, and, as the house was unfinished and no servants there, they had to sleep on the work-bench and eat what was left of the carpenter's lunch. jeffersonian simplicity was his strong point, and people who called at the white house often found him sprinkling the floor of his office, or trying to start a fire with kerosene. burr was vice-president, and, noticing at once that the office did not attract any attention to speak of, decided to challenge mr. alexander hamilton to fight a duel with him. [illustration: trying to start a fire with kerosene.] the affair took place at weehawken, july 11, 1804. hamilton fell at the first fire, on the same spot where his eldest son had been killed in the same way. the artist has shown us how burr and hamilton should have fought, but, alas! they were not progressive men and did not realize this till too late. another method would have been to use the bloodless method of the french duel, or the newspaper customs adopted by the pugilists of 1893. the time is approaching when mortal combat in america will be confined to belligerent people under the influence of liquor. a newspaper assault instead of a duel might have made burr president and hamilton vice-president. [illustration: the modern way of settling differences.] burr went west, and was afterwards accused of treason on the ground that he was trying to organize mexico against the united states government. he was put in a common jail to await trial. afterwards he was discharged, but was never again on good terms with the government, and never rose again. when he came into town and registered at the hotel the papers did not say anything about it; and so he stopped taking them, thus falling into ignorance and oblivion at the same moment, although at one time he had lacked but a single vote to make him president of the united states. [illustration: not too haughty to have fun sometimes.] england and france still continued at war, and american vessels were in hot water a good deal, as they were liable to be overhauled by both parties. england especially, with the excuse that she was looking for deserters, stopped american vessels and searched them, going through the sleeping-apartments before the work was done up,--one of the rudest things known in international affairs. an embargo act was passed forbidding american vessels to leave port, an act which showed that the bray of the ass had begun to echo through the halls of legislation even at that early day. in the mean time, jefferson had completed his second term, and james madison, the republican candidate, had succeeded him at the helm of state, as it was then called. his party favored a war with england, especially as the british had begun again to stir up the red brother. madison was a virginian. he was a man of unblemished character, and was not too haughty to have fun sometimes. this endeared him to the whole nation. unlike adams, he never swelled up so that his dignity hurt him under the arms. he died in 1836, genial and sunny to the last. it was now thought best to bring on the war of 1812, which began by an indian attack at tippecanoe on general harrison's troops in 1811, when the indians were defeated. june 19, 1812, war was finally declared. [illustration: surrender of general hull.] the first battle was between the forces under general hull on our side and the english and indians on the british side, near detroit. the troops faced each other, tecumseh being the indian leader, and both armies stood ready to have one of the best battles ever given in public or private, when general hull was suddenly overcome with remorse at the thought of shedding blood, especially among people who were so common, and, shaking a large table-cloth out the window in token of peace, amid the tears of his men, surrendered his entire command in a way that reminded old settlers very much of cornwallis. chapter xx. the war with canada. october 13, general van rensselaer crossed the niagara river and attacked the british at queenstown heights. the latter retreated, and general brock was killed. general van rensselaer went back after the rest of his troops, but they refused to cross, on the ground that the general had no right to take them out of the united states, and thus the troops left in charge at the heights were compelled to surrender. these troops who refused to go over and accept a victory already won for them, because they didn't want to cross the canadian line, would not have shied so at the boundary if they had been boodlers, very likely, in later years. august 19 occurred the naval fight between the constitution and guerriere, off the massachusetts coast. the constitution, called "old ironsides," was commanded by captain isaac hull. the guerriere was first to attack, but got no reply until both vessels were very close together, when into her starboard captain hull poured such a load of hardware that the guerriere was soon down by the head and lop-sided on the off side. she surrendered, but was of no value, being so full of holes that she would not hold a cargo of railroad-trestles. [illustration: if they had been boodlers.] the economy used by the early american warriors by land and sea regarding their ammunition, holding their fire until the enemy was at arm's length, was the cause of more than one victory. they were obliged, indeed, to make every bullet count in the days when even lead was not produced here, and powder was imported. october 13, the naval fight between the frolic and wasp took place, off the north carolina coast. the frolic was an english brig, and she wound up as most frolics do, with a severe pain and a five-dollar fine. after the wasp had called and left her r. s. v. p. cards, the decks of the frolic were a sight to behold. there were not enough able-bodied men to surrender the ship. she was captured by the boarding-crew, but there was not a man left of her own crew to haul down the colors. other victories followed on the sea, and american privateers had more fun than anybody. madison was re-elected, thus showing that his style of administration suited one and all, and the war was prosecuted at a great rate. it became a sort of fight with canada, the latter being supported by english arms by land and sea. of course the americans would have preferred to fight england direct, and many were in favor of attacking london: but when the commanding officer asked those of the army who had the means to go abroad to please raise their right hands, it was found that the trip must be abandoned. those who had the means to go did not have suitable clothes for making a respectable appearance, and so it was given up. three divisions were made of the army, all having an attack on canada as the object in view,--viz., the army of the centre, the army of the north, and the army of the west. the armies of the centre and north did not do much, aside from the trifling victory at york, and president madison said afterwards in a letter to the writer's family that the two armies did not accomplish enough to pay the duty on them. the army of the west managed to stand off the british, though the latter still held michigan and threatened ohio. [illustration: building the fleet, meantime boarding himself.] september 10, perry's victory on lake erie occurred, and was well received. perry was twenty-seven years old, and was given command of a flotilla on lake erie, provided he would cut the timber and build it, meantime boarding himself. the british had long been in possession of lake erie, and when perry got his scows afloat they issued invitations for a general display of carnage. they bore down on perry and killed all the men on his flag-ship but eight. then he helped them fire the last gun, and with the flag they jumped into a boat which they paddled for the niagara under a galling fire. this was the first time that a galling fire had ever been used at sea. perry passed within pistol-shot of the british, and in less than a quarter of an hour after he trod the poop of the niagara he was able to write to general harrison, "we have met the enemy, and they are ours." proctor and tecumseh were at malden, with english and indians, preparing to plunder the frontier and kill some more women and children as soon as they felt rested up. at the news of perry's victory, harrison decided to go over and stir them up. arriving at malden, he found it deserted, and followed the foe to the river thames, where he charged with his kentucky horsemen right through the british lines and so on down the valley, where they reformed and started back to charge on their rear, when the whole outfit surrendered except the indians. proctor, however, was mounted on a tall fox-hunter which ran away with him. he afterwards wrote back to general harrison that he made every effort to surrender personally, but that circumstances prevented. he was greatly pained by this. the americans now charged on the indians, and johnson, the commander of the blue grass dragoons, fired a shot which took tecumseh just west of the watch-pocket. he died, he said, tickled to death to know that he had been shot by an american. [illustration: proctor on a tall fox-hunter which ran away with him.] captain lawrence, of the hornet, having taken the british brig peacock, was given command of the chesapeake, which he took to boston to have repaired. while there, he got a challenge from the shannon. he put to sea with half a crew, and a shot in his chest--that is, the arm-chest of the ship--burst the whole thing open and annoyed every one on board. the enemy boarded the chesapeake and captured her, so captain lawrence, her brave commander, breathed his last, after begging his men not to give up the ship. however, the victories on the canadian border settled the war once more for the time, and cheered the americans very much. the indians in 1813 fell upon fort mimms and massacred the entire garrison, men, women, and children, not because they felt a personal antipathy towards them, but because they--the red brothers--had sold their lands too low and their hearts were sad in their bosoms. there is really no fun in trading with an indian, for he is devoid of business instincts, and reciprocity with the red brother has never been a success. general jackson took some troops and attacked the red brother, killing six hundred of him and capturing the rest of the herd. jackson did not want to hear the indians speak pieces and see them smoke the pipe of peace, but buried the dead and went home. he had very little of the romantic complaint which now and then breaks out regarding the indian, but knew full well that all the indians ever born on the face of the earth could not compensate for the cruel and violent death of one good, gentle, patient american mother. admiral cockburn now began to pillage the coast of the southern states and borrow communion services from the churches of virginia and the carolinas. he also murdered the sick in their beds. perhaps a word of apology is due the indians after all. possibly they got their ideas from cockburn. the battle of lundy's lane had been arranged for july 25, 1814, and so the americans crossed niagara under general brown to invade canada. general winfield scott led the advance, and gained a brilliant victory, july 5, at chippewa. the second engagement was at lundy's lane, within the sound of the mighty cataract. old man lundy, whose lane was used for the purpose, said that it was one of the bloodiest fights, by a good many gallons, that he ever attended. the battle was, however, barren of results, the historian says, though really an american victory from the stand-point of the tactician and professional gore-spiller. in september, sir george prevost took twelve thousand veteran troops who had served under wellington, and started for plattsburg. the ships of the british at the same time opened fire on the nine-dollar american navy, and were almost annihilated. the troops under prevost started in to fight, but, learning of the destruction of the british fleet on lake champlain, prevost fled like a frightened fawn, leaving his sick and wounded and large stores of lime-juice, porridge, and plum-pudding. the americans, who had been living on chopped horse-feed and ginseng-root, took a week off and gave themselves up to the false joys of lime-juice and general good feeling. [illustration: his rainbow smile.] along the coast the british destroyed everything they could lay their hands on; but perhaps the rudest thing they did was to enter washington and burn the capitol, the congressional library, and the smoke-house in which president madison kept his hams. even now, when the writer is a guest of some great english dignitary, and perhaps at table picking the "merry-thought" of a canvas-back duck, the memory of this thing comes over him, and, burying his face in the costly napery, he gives himself up to grief until kind words and a celery-glass-full of turpentine, or something, bring back his buoyancy and rainbow smile. the hospitality and generous treatment of our english brother to americans now is something beautiful, unaffected, and well worth a voyage across the qualmy sea to see, but when cockburn burned down the capitol and took the president's sugar-cured hams he did a rude act. chapter xxi. the advance of the republic. the administration now began to suffer at the hands of the people, many of whom criticised the conduct of the war and that of the president also. people met at hartford and spoke so harshly that the hartford federalist obtained a reputation which clung to him for many years. there being no cable in those days, the peace by treaty of ghent was not heard of in time to prevent the battle of new orleans, january 8, 1815, there having been two weeks of peace as a matter of fact when this hot and fatal battle was fought. general pakenham, with a force of twelve thousand men by sea and land, attacked the city. the land forces found general jackson intrenched several miles below the city. he had used cotton for fortifications at first, but a hot shot had set a big bunch of it on fire and rolled it over towards the powder-supplies, so that he did not use cotton any more. general pakenham was met by the solid phalanx of tennessee and kentucky riflemen, who reserved their fire, as usual, until the loud uniform of the english could be distinctly heard, when they poured into their ranks a galling fire, as it was so tersely designated at the time. general pakenham fell mortally wounded, and his troops were repulsed, but again rallied, only to be again repulsed. this went on until night, when general lambert, who succeeded general pakenham, withdrew, hopelessly beaten, and with a loss of over two thousand men. the united states now found that an honorable peace had been obtained, and with a debt of $127,000,000 started in to pay it up by instalments, which was done inside of twenty years from the ordinary revenue. in the six years following, one state per year was added to the union, and all kinds of manufactures were built up to supply the goods that had been cut off by the blockade during the war. even the deluge of cheap goods from abroad after the war did not succeed in breaking these down. james monroe was almost unanimously elected. he was generally beloved, and his administration was, in fact, known as the original "era of good feeling," since so successfully reproduced especially by the governors of north and south carolina. (see appendix.) through the efforts of henry clay, missouri was admitted as a slave state in 1821, under the compromise that slavery should not be admitted into any of the territories west of the mississippi and north of parallel 36° 30' n. clay was one of the greatest men of his time, and was especially eminent as an eloquent and magnetic speaker in the days when the record for eloquence was disputed by the giants of american oratory, and before the senate of the united states had become a wealthy club of men whose speeches are rarely printed except at so much per column, paid in advance. clay was the original patentee of the slogan for campaign use. lafayette revisited this country in 1819, and was greeted with the greatest hospitality. he visited the grave of washington, and tenderly spoke of the grandeur of character shown by his chief. he was given the use of the brandywine, a government ship, for his return. as he stood on the deck of the vessel at pier 1, north river, his mind again recurred to washington, and to those on shore he said that "to show washington's love of truth, even as a child, he could tell an interesting incident of him relating to a little new hatchet given him at the time by his father." as he reached this point in his remarks, lafayette noted with surprise that some one had slipped his cable from shore and his ship was gently shoved off by people on the pier, while his voice was drowned in the notes of the new york oompah oompah band as it struck up "johnny, git yer gun." florida was ceded to the united states in the same year by spain, and was sprinkled over with a light coating of sand for the waves to monkey with. the everglades of florida are not yet under cultivation. mr. monroe became the author of what is now called the "monroe doctrine,"--viz., that the effort of any foreign country to obtain dominion in america would thereafter and forever afterwards be regarded as an unfriendly act. rather than be regarded as unfriendly, foreign countries now refrain from doing their dominion or dynasty work here. the whigs now appeared, and the old republican party became known as the democratic party. john quincy adams and henry clay were whigs, and john c. calhoun and andrew jackson were democrats. the whigs favored a high protective tariff and internal improvement. the democrats did not favor anything especially, but bitterly opposed the whig measures, whatever they were. in 1825, john quincy adams, son of john adams, was elected president, and served one term. he was a bald-headed man, and the country was given four years of unexampled prosperity. yet this experience has not been regarded by the people as it should have been. other kinds of men have repeatedly been elected to that office, only to bring sorrow, war, debt, and bank-failures upon us. sometimes it would seem to the thinking mind that, as a people, we need a few car-loads of sense in each school-district, where it can be used at a moment's notice. [illustration: bald-headed men not appreciated.] adams was not re-elected, on account of his tariff ideas, which were not popular at the south. he was called "the old man eloquent," and it is said that during his more impassioned passages his head, which was round and extremely smooth, became flushed, so that, from resembling the cue-ball on the start, as he rose to more lofty heights his dome of thought looked more like the spot ball on a billiard-table. no one else in congress at that time had succeeded in doing this. john quincy adams was succeeded in 1829 by andrew jackson, the hero of new orleans. jackson was the first to introduce what he called "rotation in office." during the forty years previous there had been but seventy-four removals; jackson made seven hundred. this custom has been pretty generally adopted since, giving immense satisfaction to those who thrive upon the excitement of offensive partisanship and their wives' relations, while those who have legitimate employment and pay taxes support and educate a new official kindergarten with every change of administration. the prophet sees in the distance an eight-year term for the president, and employment thereafter as "charge-d'affaires" of the united states, with permission to go beyond the seas. thus the vast sums of money and rivers of rum used in the intervening campaigns at present will be used for the relief of the widow and orphan. the ex-president then, with the portfolio of international press agent for the united states, could go abroad and be fêted by foreign governments, leaving dyspepsia everywhere in his wake and crowned heads with large damp towels on them. every ex-president should have some place where he could go and hide his shame. a trip around the world would require a year, and by that time the voters would be so disgusted with the new president that the old one would come like a healing balm, and he would be permitted to die without publishing a bulletin of his temperature and showing his tongue to the press for each edition of the paper. south carolina in 1832 passed a nullification act declaring the tariff act "null and void" and announcing that the state would secede from the union if force were used to collect any revenue at charleston. south carolina has always been rather "advanced" regarding the matter of seceding from the american union. president jackson, however, ordered general scott and a number of troops to go and see that the laws were enforced; but no trouble resulted, and soon more satisfactory measures were enacted, through the large influence of mr. clay. jackson was unfriendly to the bank of the united states, and the bank retaliated by contracting its loans, thus making money-matters hard to get hold of by the masses. "when the public money," says the historian, "which had been withdrawn from the bank of the united states was deposited in local banks, money was easy and speculation extended to every branch of trade. new cities were laid out; fabulous prices were charged for building-lots which existed only on paper" etc. and in van buren's time the people paid the violinist, as they have in 1893, with ruin and remorse. speculation which is unprofitable should never be encouraged. unprofitable speculation is only another term for idiocy. but, on the other hand, profitable speculation leads to prosperity, public esteem, and the ability to keep a team. we may distinguish the one from the other by means of ascertaining the difference between them. if one finds on waking up in the morning that he experiences a sensation of being in the poor-house, he may almost at once jump to the conclusion that the kind of speculation he selected was the wrong one. the black hawk war occurred in the northwest territory in 1832. it grew out of the fact that the sacs and foxes sold their lands to the united states and afterwards regretted that they had not asked more for them: so they refused to vacate, until several of them had been used up on the asparagus-beds of the husbandman. [illustration: scalping a man between the soup and the remove.] the florida war (1835) grew out of the fact that the seminoles regretted having made a dicker with the government at too low a price for land. osceola, the chief, regretted the matter so much that he scalped general thompson while the latter was at dinner, which shows that the indian is not susceptible to cultivation or the acquisition of any knowledge of table etiquette whatever. what could be in poorer taste than scalping a man between the soup and the remove? the same day major dade with one hundred men was waylaid, and all but four of the party killed. seven years later the indians were subdued. phrenologically the indian allows his alimentiveness to overbalance his group of organs which show veneration, benevolence, fondness for society, fêtes champêtres, etc., hope, love of study, fondness for agriculture, an unbridled passion for toil, etc. france owed five million dollars for damages to our commerce in napoleon's wars, and, napoleon himself being entirely worthless, having said every time that the bill was presented that he would settle it as soon as he got back from st. helena, jackson ordered reprisals to be made, but england acted as a peacemaker, and the bill was paid. on receiving the money a trunk attached by our government and belonging to napoleon was released. space here, and the nature of this work, forbid an extended opinion regarding the course pursued by napoleon in this matter. his tomb is in the basement of the hôtel des invalides in paris, and you are requested not to _fumer_ while you are there. [illustration: fitted in paris at great expense.] chapter xxii. more difficulties straightened out. van buren, the eighth president, was unfortunate in taking the helm as the financial cyclone struck the country. this was brought about by scarcity of funds more than anything else. business-men would not pay their debts, and, though new york was not then so large as at present, one hundred million dollars were lost in sixty days in this way. the government had required the payments for public lands to be made in coin, and so the treasury had plenty of gold and silver, while business had nothing to work with. speculation also had made a good many snobs who had sent their gold and silver abroad for foreign luxuries, also some paupers who could not do so. when a man made some money from the sale of rural lots he had his hats made abroad, and his wife had her dresses fitted in paris at great expense. confidence was destroyed, and the air was heavy with failures and apprehension of more failures to come. the canadians rebelled against england, and many of our people wanted to unite with canada against the mother-country, but the police would not permit them to do so. general scott was sent to the frontier to keep our people from aiding the canadians. [illustration: lord ashburton and daniel webster.] there was trouble in the northeast over the boundary between maine and new brunswick, but it was settled by the commissioners, daniel webster and lord ashburton. webster was a smart man and a good extemporaneous speaker. van buren failed of a re-election, as the people did not fully endorse his administration. administrations are not generally endorsed where the people are unable to get over six pounds of sugar for a dollar. general harrison, who followed in 1841, died soon after choosing his cabinet, and his vice-president, john tyler, elected as a whig, proceeded to act as president, but not as a whig president should. his party passed a bill establishing the united states bank, but tyler vetoed it, and the men who elected him wished they had been as dead as rameses was at the time. dorr's justly celebrated rebellion in rhode island was an outbreak resulting from restricting the right of suffrage to those who owned property. a new constitution was adopted, and dorr chosen as governor. he was not recognized, and so tried to capture the seat while the regular governor was at tea. he got into jail for life, but was afterwards pardoned out and embraced the christian religion. in 1844 the anti-rent war in the state of new york broke out among those who were tenants of the old "patroon estates." these men, disguised as indians, tarred and feathered those who paid rent, and killed the collectors who were sent to them. in 1846 the matter was settled by the military. [illustration: tarred and feathered for paying rent.] in 1840 the mormons had settled at nauvoo, illinois. they were led by joseph smith, and not only proposed to run a new kind of religion, but introduced polygamy into it. the people who lived near them attacked them, killed smith, and drove the mormons to iowa, opposite omaha. in 1844 occurred the building of the magnetic telegraph, invented by samuel f. b. morse. the line was from baltimore to washington, or _vice versa_,--authorities failing to agree on this matter. it cost thirty thousand dollars, and the boys who delivered the messages made more out of it then than the stockholders did. fulton having invented and perfected the steamboat in 1805 and started the clermont on the north river at the dizzy rate of five miles per hour, and george stephenson having in 1814 made the first locomotive to run on a track, the people began to feel that theosophy was about all they needed to place them on a level with the seraphim and other astral bodies. [illustration: the messenger-boys made more out of it than the stockholders.] texas had, under the guidance of sam houston, obtained her independence from mexico, and asked for admission to the union. congress at first rejected her, fearing that the texas people lacked cultivation, being so far away from the thought-ganglia of the east, also fearing a war with mexico; but she was at last admitted, and now every one is glad of it. the whigs were not in favor of the admission of texas, and made that the issue of the following campaign, henry clay leading his party to a hospitable grave in the fall. james k. polk, a democrat, was elected. his rallying cry was, "i am a democrat." the mexican war now came on. general taylor's army met the enemy first at palo alto, where he ran across the mexicans six thousand strong, and, though he had but two thousand men, drove them back, only losing nine men. this was the most economical battle of the war. the next afternoon he met the enemy at resaca de la palma, and whipped him in the time usually required to ejaculate the word "scat!" next general taylor proceeded against monterey, september 24, and with six thousand men attacked the strongly-fortified city, which held ten thousand troops. the americans avoided the heavy fire as well as possible by entering the city and securing rooms at the best hotel, leaving word at the office that they did not wish to be disturbed by the enemy. in fact, the soldiers did dig their way through from house to house to avoid the volleys from the windows, and thus fought to within a square of the grand plaza, when the city surrendered. the grand plaza is generally a sandy vacant lot, where mexicans sell _tamales_ made of the highly-peppered but tempting cutlets of the mexican hairless dog. the battle of buena vista took place february 23, 1847, general santa anna commanding the mexicans. he had twenty thousand men, and general taylor's troops were reduced in numbers. the fight was a hot one, lasting all day, and the americans were saved by bragg's artillery. bragg used the old colonial method of rolling his guns up to the nose of the enemy and then discharging an iron-foundry into his midst. this disgusted the enemy so that general santa anna that evening took the shreds of his army and went away. [illustration: the fight was a hot one.] general kearney was sent to take new mexico and california. his work consisted mainly in marching for general frémont, who had been surveying a new route to oregon, and had with sixty men been so successful that on the arrival of kearney, with the aid of commodores sloat and stockton, california was captured, and has given general satisfaction to every one. in march, 1847, general scott, with twelve thousand men, bombarded vera cruz four days, and at the end of that time the city was surrendered. at cerro gordo, a week later, scott overtook the enemy under general santa anna, and made such a fierce attack that the mexicans were completely routed. santa anna left his leg on the field of battle and rode away on a pet mule named charlotte corday. the leg was preserved and taken to the smithsonian institute. it is made of second-growth hickory, and has a brass ferrule and a rubber eraser on the end. general taylor afterwards taunted him with this incident, and, though greatly irritated, santa anna said there was no use trying to kick. puebla resisted not, and the army marched into the city of mexico august 7. the road was rendered disagreeable by strong fortifications and thirty thousand men who were not on good terms with scott. the environments and suburbs one after another were taken, and a parley for peace ensued, during which the mexicans were busy fortifying some more on the quiet. september 8 the americans made their assault, and carried the outworks one by one. then the castle of chapultepec was stormed. first the outer works were scaled, which made them much more desirable, and the moat was removed by means of a stomach-pump and blotting-pad, and then the escarpment was up-ended, the don john tower was knocked silly by a solid shot, and the castle capitulated. thus on the 14th of september the old flag floated over the court-house of mexico, and general scott ate his tea in the palace of the montezumas. peace was declared february 2, 1848, and the united states owned the vast country southward to the gila (pronounced heeler) and west to the pacific ocean. the wilmot proviso was invented by david wilmot, a poor, struggling member of congress, who moved that in any territory acquired by the united states slavery should be prohibited except upon the advice of a physician. the motion was lost. gold was discovered in the sacramento valley in august, 1848, by a workman who was building a mill-race. a struggle ensued over this ground as to who should own the race. it threatened to terminate in a race war, but was settled amicably. in eighteen months one hundred thousand people went to the scene. thousands left their skeletons with the red brother, and other thousands left theirs on the isthmus of panama or on the cruel desert. many married men went who had been looking a long time for some good place to go to. leaving their wives with ill-concealed relief, they started away through a country filled with death, to reach a country they knew not of. some died _en route_, others were hanged, and still others became the heads of new families. some came back and carried water for their wives to wash clothing for their neighbors. [illustration: some came back and carried water for their wives to wash clothing.] it was a long hard trip then across the plains. one of the author's friends at the age of thirteen years drove a little band of cows from the state of indiana to sacramento. he says he would not do it again for anything. he is now a man, and owns a large prune-orchard in california, and people tell him he is getting too stout, and that he ought to exercise more, and that he ought to walk every day several miles; but he shakes his head, and says, "no, i will not walk any to-day, and possibly not to-morrow or the day following. do not come to me and refer to taking a walk: i have tried that. possibly you take me for a dromedary; but you are wrong. i am a fat man, and may die suddenly some day while lacing up my shoes, but when i go anywhere i ride." when he got to sacramento, where gold was said to be so plentiful, he was glad to wash dishes for his board, and he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into the fields for to feed swine, and he would fain have filled his system with the california peaches which the swine did eat, and he began to be in want, and no man gave unto him, and if he had spent his substance in riotous living, he said, it would have been different. about thirty years after that he arose and went unto his father, and carried his dinner with him, also a government bond and a new suit of raiment for the old gentleman. i do not know what we should learn from this. chapter xxiii. the websters. daniel webster, together with mr. clay, had much to do with the compromise measures of 1850. these consisted in the admission of california as a free state, the organizing of the territories of utah and new mexico without any provision regarding slavery pro or con, the payment to texas of one hundred million dollars for new mexico,--which was a good trade for texas,--the prohibition of the slave-trade in the district of columbia, and the enactment of a fugitive slave law permitting owners of slaves to follow them into the free states and take them back in irons, if necessary. the officials and farmers of the free states were also expected to turn out, call the dog, leave their work, and help catch these chattels and carry them to the south-bound train. daniel webster was born in 1782, and noah in 1758. daniel was educated at dartmouth college, where he was admitted in 1797. he taught school winters and studied summers, as many other great men have done since, until he knew about everything that anybody could. what dan did not know, noah did. strange to say, daniel was frightened to death when first called upon to speak a piece. he says he committed dozens of pieces to memory and recited them to the woods and crags and cows and stone abutments of the new england farms, but could not stand up before a school and utter a word. [illustration: daniel webster could not stand up before a school and utter a word.] in 1801 he studied law with thomas w. thompson, afterwards united states senator. he read then for the first time that "law is a rule of action prescribing what is right and prohibiting what is wrong." in 1812 he was elected to congress, and in 1813 made his maiden speech. one of his most masterly speeches was made on economical and financial subjects; and yet in order to get his blue broadcloth coat with brass buttons from the tailor-shop to wear while making the speech, he had to borrow twenty-five dollars. when the country has wanted a man to talk well on these subjects it has generally been compelled to advance money to him before he could make a speech. sometimes he has to be taken from the pawn-shop. webster, it is said, was the most successful lawyer, after he returned to boston, that the state of massachusetts has ever known; and yet his mail was full of notices from banks down east, announcing that he had overdrawn his account. once he was hard pressed for means, as he was trying to run a farm, and running a farm costs money: so he went to a bank to borrow. he hated to do it, because he had no special inducements to offer a bank or to make it hilariously loan him money. "how much did you think you would need, mr. webster?" asked the president, cutting off some coupons as he spoke and making paper dolls of them. "well, i could get along very well," said webster, in that deep, resinous voice of his, "if i could have two thousand dollars." "well, you remember," said the banker, "do you not, that you have two thousand dollars here, that you deposited five years ago, after you had dined with the governor of north carolina?" "no, i had forgotten about that," said webster. "give me a blank check without unnecessary delay." we may learn from this that mr. webster was not a careful man in the matter of detail. his speech on the two-hundredth anniversary of the landing of the pilgrims was a good thing, and found its way into the press of the time. his speech at the laying of the corner-stone of the bunker hill monument, and his eulogy of adams and jefferson, were beautiful and thrilling. daniel webster had a very large brain, and used to loan his hat to brother senators now and then when their heads were paining them, provided he did not want it himself. his reply to robert y. hayne, of south carolina, in 1830, was regarded as one of his ablest parliamentary efforts. hayne attacked new england, and first advanced the doctrine of nullification, which was even more dangerous than secession,--jefferson davis in 1860 denying that he had ever advocated or favored such a doctrine. webster spoke extempore, and people sent out for their lunch rather than go away in the midst of his remarks. webster married twice, but did not let that make any difference with his duty to his country. [illustration: sent out for their lunch rather than go away in the midst of his remarks.] he tried to farm it some, but did not amass a large sum, owing to his heavy losses in trying year after year to grow saratoga potatoes for the boston market. no american, foreign or domestic, ever made a greater name for himself than daniel webster, but he was not so good a penman as noah; noah was the better pen-writer. noah webster also had the better command of language of the two. those who have read his great work entitled "webster's elementary spelling-book, or, how one word led to another," will agree with me that he was smart. noah never lacked for a word by which to express himself. he was a brainy man and a good speller. one by one our eminent men are passing away. mr. webster has passed away; napoleon bonaparte is no more; and dr. mary walker is fading away. this has been a severe winter on red shirt; and i have to guard against the night air a good deal myself. it would ill become me, at this late date, to criticise mr. webster's work, a work that is now, i may say, in nearly every home and school-room in the land. it is a great book. i only hope that had mr. webster lived he would have been equally fair in his criticism of my books. i hate to compare my books with mr. webster's, because it looks egotistical in me; but, although noah's book is larger than mine, and has more literary attractions as a book to set a child on at the table, it does not hold the interest of the reader all the way through. he has introduced too many characters into his book at the expense of the plot. it is a good book to pick up and while away a leisure hour, perhaps, but it is not a work that could rivet your interest till midnight, while the fire went out and the thermometer stepped down to 47° below zero. you do not hurry through the pages to see whether reginald married the girl or not. mr. webster did not seem to care how the affair turned out. therein consists the great difference between noah and myself. he doesn't keep up the interest. a friend of mine at sing sing, who secured one of my books, said he never left his room till he had devoured it. he said he seemed chained to the spot; and if you can't believe a convict who is entirely out of politics, whom, in the name of george washington, can you trust? [illustration: never left his room till he had devoured it.] mr. webster was certainly a most brilliant writer, though a little inclined, perhaps, to be wordy. i have discovered in some of his later books one hundred and eighteen thousand words no two of which are alike. this shows great fluency and versatility, it is true, but we need something else. the reader waits in vain to be thrilled by the author's wonderful word-painting. there is not a thrill in the whole tome. i had heard so much of mr. webster that when i read his book i confess i was disappointed. it is cold, methodical, dry, and dispassionate in the extreme, and one cannot help comparing it with the works of james fenimore cooper and horace. as i said, however, it is a good book to pick up for the purpose of whiling away an idle hour. no one should travel without mr. webster's tale. those who examine this tale will readily see why there were no flies on the author. he kept them off with this tale. it is a good book, as i say, to take up for a moment, or to read on the train, or to hold the door open on a hot day. i would never take a long railroad ride without it, eyether. i would as soon forget my bottle of cough-medicine. mr. webster's speller had an immense sale. ten years ago he had sold forty million copies. and yet it had this same defect. it was cold, dull, disconnected, and verbose. there was only one good thing in the book, and that was a little literary gem regarding a boy who broke in and stole the apples of a total stranger. the story was so good that i have often wondered whom mr. webster got to write it for him. the old man, it seems, at first told the boy that he had better come down, as there was a draught in the tree; but the young sass-box--apple-sass-box, i presume--told him to avaunt. at last the old man said, "come down, honey. i am afraid the limb will break if you don't." then, as the boy still remained, he told him that those were not eating-apples, that they were just common cooking-apples, and that there were worms in them. but the boy said he didn't mind a little thing like that. so then the old gentleman got irritated, and called the dog, and threw turf at the boy, and at last saluted him with pieces of turf and decayed cabbages; and after the lad had gone away the old man pried the bull-dog's jaws open and found a mouthful of pantaloons and a freckle. i do not tell this, of course, in mr. webster's language, but i give the main points as they recur now to my mind. though i have been a close student of mr. webster for years and have carefully examined his style, i am free to say that his ideas about writing a book are not the same as mine. of course it is a great temptation for a young author to write a book that will have a large sale; but that should not be all. we should have a higher object than that, and strive to interest those who read the book. it should not be jerky and scattering in its statements. i do not wish to do an injustice to a great man who is now no more, a man who did so much for the world and who could spell the longest word without hesitation, but i speak of these things just as i would expect others to criticise my work. if one aspire to be a member of the _literati_ of his day, he must expect to be criticised. i have been criticised myself. when i was in public life,--as a justice of the peace in the rocky mountains,--a man came in one day and criticised me so that i did not get over it for two weeks. i might add, though i dislike to speak of it now, that mr. webster was at one time a member of the legislature of massachusetts. i believe that was the only time he ever stepped aside from the strait and narrow way. a good many people do not know this, but it is true. mr. webster was also a married man, yet he never murmured or repined. chapter xxiv. befo' the wah--causes which led to it--masterly grasp of the subject shown by the author. a man named lopez in 1851 attempted to annex cuba, thus furnishing for our republican wrapper a genuine havana filler; but he failed, and was executed, while his plans were not. franklin pierce was elected president on the democratic ticket, running against general scott, the whig candidate. slavery began to be discussed again, when stephen a. douglas, in congress, advocated squatter sovereignty, or the right for each territory to decide whether it would be a free or a slave state. the measure became a law in 1854. that was what made trouble in kansas. the two elements, free and slave, were arrayed against each other, and for several years friends from other states had to come over and help kansas bury its dead. the condition of things for some time was exceedingly mortifying to the citizen who went out to milk after dark without his gun. trouble with mexico arose, owing to the fact that the government had used a poor and unreliable map in establishing the line: so general gadsden made a settlement for the disputed ground, and we paid mexico ten millions of dollars. it is needless to say that we have since seen the day when we wished that we had it back. [illustration: exceedingly mortifying to the citizen who went to milk without his gun.] two ports of entry were now opened to us in japan by commodore perry's expedition, and cups and saucers began to be more plentiful in this country, many of the wealthier deciding at that time not to cool tea in the saucer or drink it vociferously from that vessel. this custom and the whig party passed away at the same time. the republican or anti-slavery party nominated for president john c. frémont, who received the vote of eleven states, but james buchanan was elected, and proved to the satisfaction of the world that there is nothing to prevent any unemployed man's applying for the presidency of the united states; also that if his life has been free from ideas and opinions he may be elected sometimes where one who has been caught in the very act of thinking, and had it proved on him, might be defeated. chief justice taney now stated that slaves could be taken into any state of the union by their owners without forfeiting the rights of ownership. this was called the dred scott decision, and did much to irritate abolitionists like john brown, whose soul as this book goes to press is said to be marching on. brown was a kansas man with a mission and massive whiskers. he would be called now a crank; but his action in seizing a united states arsenal at harper's ferry and declaring the slaves free was regarded by the south as thoroughly representative of the northern feeling. the country now began to be in a state of restlessness. brown had been captured and hanged as a traitor. northern men were obliged to leave their work every little while to catch a negro, crate him, and return him to his master or give him a lift towards canada; and, as the negro was replenishing the earth at an astonishing rate, general alarm broke out. douglas was the champion of squatter sovereignty, john c. breckinridge of the doctrine that slaves could be checked through as personal baggage into any state of the union, and lincoln of the anti-slavery principle which afterwards constituted the spinal column of the federal government as opposed to the confederacy of the seceded states. [illustration: obliged to leave their work every little while to catch a negro.] lincoln was elected, which reminded him of an anecdote. douglas and several other candidates were defeated, which did not remind them of anything. south carolina seceded in december, 1860, and soon after mississippi, florida, alabama, georgia, louisiana, and texas followed suit. the following february the confederacy was organized at montgomery, alabama, and jefferson davis was elected president. long and patient effort on the part of the historian to ascertain how he liked it has been entirely barren of results. alexander h. stephens was made vice-president. everything belonging to the united states and not thoroughly fastened down was carried away by the confederacy, while president buchanan looked the other way or wrote airy persiflage to tottering dynasties which slyly among themselves characterized him as a neat and cleanly old lady. had buchanan been a married man it is generally believed now that his wife would have prevented the war. then she would have called james out from under the bed and allowed him to come to the table for his meals with the family. but he was not married, and the war came on. major anderson was afraid to remain at fort moultrie in charleston harbor, so crossed over to fort sumter. the south regarded this as hostility, and the fort was watched to see if any one should attempt to divide his lunch with the garrison, which it was declared would be regarded as an act of defiance. the reader will see by this that a deaf and dumb asylum in northern michigan was about the only safe place for a peaceable man at that time. president lincoln found himself placed at the head of a looted government on the sharp edge of a crisis that had not been properly upholstered. the buchanan cabinet had left little except a burglar's tool or two here and there to mark its operations, and, with the aged and infirm general scott at the head of a little army, and no encouragement except from the abolitionists, many of whom had never seen a colored man outside of a minstrel performance, the president stole incog. into washington, like a man who had agreed to lecture there. southern officers resigned daily from the army and navy to go home and join the fortunes of their several states. meantime, the federal government moved about like a baby elephant loaded with shot, while the new confederacy got men, money, arms, and munitions of war from every conceivable point. finding that supplies were to be sent to major anderson, general peter g. t. beauregard summoned major anderson to surrender. general beauregard, after the war, became one of the good, kind gentlemen who annually stated over their signatures that they had examined the louisiana state lottery and that there was no deception about it. the lottery felt grateful for this, and said that the general should never want while it had a roof of its own. major anderson had seventy men, while general beauregard had seven thousand. after a bombardment and a general fight of thirty-four hours, the starved and suffocated garrison yielded to overwhelming numbers. president lincoln was not admired by a class of people in the north and south who heard with horror that he had at one time worked for ten dollars a month. they thought the president's salary too much for him, and feared that he would buy watermelons with it. they also feared that some day he might tell a funny story in the presence of queen victoria. the snobocracy could hardly sleep nights for fear that lincoln at a state dinner might put sugar and cream in his cold consommé. jefferson davis, it was said, knew more of etiquette in a minute than lincoln knew all his life. the capture of sumter united the north and unified the south. it made "war democrats"--_i.e._, democrats who had voted against lincoln--join him in the prosecution of the war. more united states property was cheerfully appropriated by the confederacy, which showed that it was alive and kicking from the very first minute it was born. confederate troops were sent into virginia and threatened the capitol at washington, and would have taken it if the city had not, in summer, been regarded as unhealthful. the sixth massachusetts regiment, hurrying to the capital, was attacked in baltimore and several men were killed. this was the first actual bloodshed in the civil war which caused rivers and lakes and torrents of the best blood of north and south to cover the fair, sweet clover fields and blue-grass meadows made alone for peace. the general opinion of the author, thirty-five years afterwards, is that the war was as unavoidable as the deluge, and as idiotic in its incipiency as adam's justly celebrated defence in the great "apple sass case." men will fight until it is educated out of them, just as they will no doubt retain rudimentary tails and live in trees till they know better. it's all owing to how a man was brought up. of course after we have been drawn into the fight and been fined and sent home, we like to maintain that we were fighting for our home, or liberty, or the flag, or something of the kind. we hate to admit that, as a nation, we fought and paid for it afterwards with our family's bread-money just because we were irritated. that's natural; but most great wars are arranged by people who stay at home and sell groceries to the widow and orphan and old maids at one hundred per cent. advance. arlington heights and alexandria were now seized and occupied by the union troops for the protection of washington, and mosquito-wires were put up in the capitol windows to keep the largest of the rebels from coming in and biting congress. fort monroe was garrisoned by a force under general benjamin f. butler, and an expedition was sent out against big bethel. on the way the federal troops fired into each other, which pleased the confederates very much indeed. the union troops were repulsed with loss, and went back to the fort, where they stated that they were disappointed in the war. west virginia was strongly for the union in sentiment, and was set off from the original state of virginia, and, after some fighting the first year of the war over its territory, came into line with the northern states. the fighting here was not severe. generals mcclellan and rosecrans (union) and lee (confederate) were the principal commanders. the first year of the war was largely spent in sparring for wind, as one very able authority has it. in the next chapter reference will be made to the battle of bull run, and the odium will be placed where it belongs. the author reluctantly closes this chapter in order to go out and get some odium for that purpose. chapter xxv. bull run and other battles. on the 21st of july, 1861, occurred the battle of bull run, under the joint management of general irwin mcdowell and general p. g. t. beauregard. after a sharp conflict, the confederates were repulsed, but rallied again under general t. j. jackson, called thereafter stonewall jackson. while the federals were striving to beat jackson back, troops under generals early and kirby smith from manassas junction were hurled against their flank.[5] mcdowell's men retreated, and as they reached the bridge a shell burst among their crowded and chaotic numbers. a caisson was upset, and a panic ensued, many of the troops continuing at a swift canter till they reached the capitol, where they could call on the sergeant-at-arms to preserve order. as a result of this run on the banks of the potomac, the north suddenly decided that the war might last a week or two longer than at first stated, that the foe could not be killed with cornstalks, and that a mistake had been made in judging that the rebellion wasn't loaded.[6] half a million men were called for and five hundred million dollars voted. general george b. mcclellan took command of the army of the potomac. the battle of ball's bluff resulted disastrously to the union forces, and two thousand men were mostly driven into the potomac, some drowned and others shot. colonel baker, united states senator from oregon, was killed. the war in missouri now opened. captain lyon reserved the united states arsenal at st. louis, and defeated colonel marmaduke at booneville. general sigel was defeated at carthage, july 5, by the confederates: so lyon, with five thousand men, decided to attack more than twice that number of the enemy under price and mcculloch, which he did, august 10, at wilson's creek. he was killed while making a charge, and his men were defeated. general frémont then took command, and drove price to springfield, but he was in a short time replaced by general hunter, because his war policy was offensive to the enemy. hunter was soon afterwards removed, and major-general halleck took his place. halleck gave general satisfaction to the enemy, and even his red messages from washington, where he boarded during the war, were filled with nothing but kindness for the misguided foe. davis early in the war commissioned privateers, and lincoln blockaded the southern ports. the north had but one good vessel at the time, and those who have tried to blockade four or five thousand miles of hostile coast with one vessel know full well what it is to be busy. the entire navy consisted of forty-two ships, and some of these were not seaworthy. some of them were so pervious that their guns had to be tied on to keep them from leaking through the cracks of the vessel. hatteras inlet was captured, and commodore dupont, aided by general thomas w. sherman, captured port royal entrance and tybee island. port royal became the dépôt for the fleet. it was now decided at the south to send messrs. mason and slidell to england, partly for change of scene and rest, and partly to make a friendly call on queen victoria and invite her to come and spend the season at asheville, north carolina. it was also hoped that she would give a few readings from her own works at the south, while her retinue could go to the front and have fun with the yankees, if so disposed. [illustration: hoped she would give a few readings from her own works.] these gentlemen, wearing their nice new broadcloth clothes, and with a court suit and suitable night-wear to use in case they should be pressed to stop a week or two at the castle, got to havana safely, and took passage on the british ship trent; but captain wilkes, of the united states steamer san jacinto, took them off the trent, just as mr. mason had drawn and fortunately filled a hand with which he hoped to pay a part of the war-debt of the south and get a new overcoat in london. later, however, the united states disavowed this act of captain wilkes, and said it was only a bit of pleasantry on his part. the first year of the war had taught both sides a few truths, and especially that the war did not in any essential features resemble a straw-ride to camp-meeting and return. the south had also discovered that the yankee peddlers could not be captured with fly-paper, and that although war was not their regular job they were willing to learn how it was done. in 1862 the national army numbered five hundred thousand men, and the confederate army three hundred and fifty thousand. three objects were decided upon by the federal government for the union army and navy to accomplish,--viz., 1, the opening of the mississippi; 2, the blockade of southern ports; and 3, the capture of richmond, the capital of the southern confederacy. the capture of forts henry and donelson was undertaken by general grant, aided by commodore foote, and on february 6 a bombardment was opened with great success, reducing fort henry in one hour. the garrison got away because the land-forces had no idea the fort would yield so soon, and therefore could not get up there in time to cut off the retreat. fort donelson was next attacked, the garrison having been reinforced by the men from fort henry. the fight lasted four days, and on february 16 the fort, with fifteen thousand men, surrendered. nashville was now easily occupied by buell, and columbus and bowling green were taken. the confederates fell back to corinth, where general beauregard (peter g. t.) and albert sidney johnston massed their forces. general grant now captured the memphis and charleston railroad; but the confederates decided to capture him before buell, who had been ordered to reinforce him, should effect a junction with him. april 6 and 7, therefore, the battle of shiloh occurred. whether the union troops were surprised or not at this battle, we cannot here pause to discuss. suffice it to say that one of the federal officers admitted to the author in 1879, while under the influence of koumys, that, though not strictly surprised, he believed he violated no confidence in saying that they were somewhat astonished. it was sunday morning, and the northern hordes were just considering whether they would take a bite of beans and go to church or remain in camp and get their laundry-work counted for monday, when the confederacy and some other men burst upon them with a fierce, rude yell. in a few moments the federal troops had decided that there had sprung up a strong personal enmity on the part of the south, and that ill feeling had been engendered in some way. [illustration: some other men burst upon them with a fierce, rude yell.] all that beautiful sabbath-day they fought, the federals yielding ground slowly and reluctantly till the bank of the river was reached and grant's artillery commanded the position. here a stand was made until buell came up, and shortly afterwards the confederates fell back; but they had captured the yankee camp entire, and many a boy in blue lost the nice warm woollen pulse-warmers crocheted for him by his soul's idol. it is said that over thirty-five hundred needle-books and three thousand men were captured by the confederates, also thirty flags and immense quantities of stores; but the confederate commander, general a. s. johnston, was killed. the following morning the tide had turned, and general p. g. t. beauregard retreated unmolested to corinth. general halleck now took command, and, as the confederates went away from there, he occupied corinth, though still retaining his rooms at the arlington hotel in washington. the confederates who retreated from columbus fell back to island no. 10 in the mississippi river, where commodore foote bombarded them for three weeks, thus purifying the air and making the enemy feel much better than at any previous time during the campaign. general pope crossed the mississippi, capturing the batteries in the rear of the island, and turning them on the enemy, who surrendered april 7, the day of the battle of shiloh. may 10, the union gun-boats moved down the river. fort pillow was abandoned by the southern forces, and the confederate flotilla was destroyed in front of memphis. kentucky and tennessee were at last the property of the fierce hordes from the great coarse north. general bragg was now at chattanooga, price at iuka, and van dorn at holly springs. all these generals had guns, and were at enmity with the united states of america. they very much desired to break the union line of investment extending from memphis almost to chattanooga. bragg started out for the ohio river, intending to cross it and capture the middle states; but buell heard of it and got there twenty-four hours ahead, wherefore bragg abandoned his plans, as it flashed over him like a clap of thunder from a clear sky that he had no place to put the middle states if he had them. he therefore escaped in the darkness, his wagon-trains sort of drawling over forty miles of road and "hit a-rainin'." september 19, general price, who, with van dorn, had considered it a good time to attack grant, who had sent many troops north to prevent bragg's capture of north america, decided to retreat, and, general rosecrans failing to cut him off, escaped, and was thus enabled to fight on other occasions. the two confederate generals now decided to attack the union forces at corinth, which they did. they fought beautifully, especially the texan and missouri troops, who did some heroic work, but they were defeated and driven forty miles with heavy loss. october 30, general buell was succeeded by general rosecrans. the battle of murfreesboro occurred december 31 and january 2. it was one of the bloodiest battles of the whole conflict, and must have made the men who brought on the war by act of congress feel first-rate. about one-fourth of those engaged were killed. an attack on vicksburg, in which grant and sherman were to co-operate, the former moving along the mississippi central railroad and sherman descending the river from memphis, was disastrous, and the capture of arkansas post, january 11, 1863, closed the campaign of 1862 on the father of waters. general price was driven out of missouri by general curtis, and had to stay in arkansas quite a while, though he preferred a dryer climate. general van dorn now took command of these forces, numbering twenty thousand men, and at pea ridge, march 7 and 8, 1863, he was defeated to a remarkable degree. during his retreat he could hardly restrain his impatience. some four or five thousand indians joined the confederates in this battle, but were so astonished at the cannon, and so shocked by the large decayed balls, as they called the shells, which came hurtling through the air, now and then hurting an indian severely, that they went home before the exercises were more than half through. they were down on the programme for some fantastic and interesting tortures of union prisoners, but when they got home to the reservation and had picked the briers out of themselves they said that war was about as barbarous a thing as they were ever to, and they went to bed early, leaving a call for 9.30 a.m. on the following day. [illustration: went home before the exercises were more than half through.] the red brother's style of warfare has an air about it that is unpopular now. a common stone stab-knife is a feeble thing to use against people who shoot a distance of eight miles with a gun that carries a forty-gallon caldron full of red-hot iron. [footnote 5: while the union forces did not succeed in beating stonewall jackson back, in returning to washington they succeeded in beating everybody else back. (see appendix.)] [footnote 6: the odium to be cast on the person upon whom it should fall for the sickening defeat at bull run was found to be in such wretched condition at the time these lines were written that it was decided to go on without casting it. the writer points with pride to the fact that in writing this history fifteen cents' worth of odium will cover the entire amount used.] chapter xxvi. some more fratricidal strife. the effort to open the mississippi from the north was seconded by an expedition from the south, in which captain david g. farragut, commanding a fleet of forty vessels, co-operated with general benjamin f. butler, with the capture of new orleans as the object. mortar-boats covered with green branches for the purpose of fooling the enemy, as no one could tell at any distance at all whether these were or were not olive-branches, steamed up the river and bombarded forts jackson and st. philip till the stunned catfish rose to the surface of the water to inquire, "why all this?" and turned their pallid stomachs toward the soft southern zenith. sixteen thousand eight hundred shells were thrown into the two forts, but that did not capture new orleans. farragut now decided to run his fleet past the defences, and, desperate as the chances were, he started on april 24. a big cable stretched across the river suggested the idea that there was a hostile feeling among the new orleans people. five rafts and armed steamers met him, and the iron-plated ram manassas extended to him a cordial welcome to a wide wet grave with a southern exposure. farragut cut through the cable about three o'clock in the morning, practically destroyed the confederate fleet, and steamed up to the city, which was at his mercy. the forts, now threatened in the rear by butler's army, surrendered, and farragut went up to baton rouge and took possession of it. general butler's occupation at new orleans has been variously commented upon by both friend and foe, but we are only able to learn from this and the entire record of the war, in fact, that it is better to avoid hostilities unless one is ready to accept the unpleasant features of combat. the author, when a boy, learned this after he had acquired the unpleasant features resulting from combat which the artist has cleverly shown on opposite page. general butler said he found it almost impossible to avoid giving offence to the foe, and finally he gave it up in despair. the french are said to be the politest people on the face of the earth, but no german will admit it; and though the germans are known to have big, warm, hospitable hearts, since the franco-prussian war you couldn't get a frenchman to admit this. in february burnside captured roanoke island, and the coast of north carolina fell into the hands of the union army. port royal became the base of operations against florida, and at the close of the year 1862 every city on the atlantic coast except charleston, wilmington, and savannah was held by the union army. [illustration: unpleasant features resulting from combat.] the merrimac iron-clad, which had made much trouble for the union shipping for some time, steamed into hampton roads on the 8th of march. hampton roads is not the champs-elysées of the south, but a long wet stretch of track east of virginia,--the midway plaisance of the salted sea. the merrimac steered for the cumberland, rammed her, and the cumberland sunk like a stove-lid, with all on board. the captain of the congress, warned by the fate of the cumberland, ran his vessel on shore and tried to conceal her behind the tall grass, but the merrimac followed and shelled her till she surrendered. the merrimac then went back to norfolk, where she boarded, night having come on apace. in the morning she aimed to clear out the balance of the union fleet. that night, however, the monitor, a flat little craft with a revolving tower, invented by captain ericsson, arrived, and in the morning when the merrimac started in on her day's work of devastation, beginning with the minnesota, the insignificant-looking monitor slid up to the iron monster and gave her two one-hundred-and-sixty-six-and-three-quarter-pound solid shot. the merrimac replied with a style of broadside that generally sunk her adversary, but the balls rolled off the low flat deck and fell with a solemn plunk in the moaning sea, or broke in fragments and lay on the forward deck like the shells of antique eggs on the floor of the house of parliament after a home rule argument. five times the merrimac tried to ram the little spitz-pup of the navy, but her huge iron beak rode up over the slippery deck of the enemy, and when the big vessel looked over her sides to see its wreck, she discovered that the monitor was right side up and ready for more. the confederate vessel gave it up at last, and went back to norfolk defeated, her career suddenly closed by the timely genius of the able scandinavian. the peninsular campaign was principally addressed toward the capture of richmond. one hundred thousand men were massed at fort monroe april 4, and marched slowly toward yorktown, where five thousand confederates under general magruder stopped the great army under mcclellan. after a month's siege, and just as mcclellan was about to shoot at the town, the garrison took its valise and went away. on the 5th of may occurred the battle of williamsburg, between the forces under "fighting joe" hooker and general johnston. it lasted nine hours, and ended in the routing of the confederates and their pursuit by hooker to within seven miles of richmond. this caused the adjournment of the confederate congress. but johnston prevented the junction of mcdowell and mcclellan after the capture of hanover court-house, and stonewall jackson, reinforced by ewell, scared the union forces almost to death. they crossed the potomac, having marched thirty-five miles per day. washington was getting too hot now to hold people who could get away. it was hard to say which capital had been scared the worst. the governors of the northern states were asked to send militia to defend the capital, and the front door of the white house was locked every night after ten o'clock. but finally the union generals, instead of calling for more troops, got after general jackson, and he fled from the shenandoah valley, burning the bridges behind him. it is said that as he and his staff were about to cross their last bridge they saw a mounted gun on the opposite side, manned by a union artilleryman. jackson rode up and in clarion tones called out, "who told you to put that gun there, sir? bring it over here, sir, and mount it, and report at head-quarters this evening, sir!" the artilleryman unlimbered the gun, and while he was placing it general jackson and staff crossed over and joined the army. one cannot be too careful, during a war, in the matter of obedience to orders. we should always know as nearly as possible whether our orders come from the proper authority or not. no one can help admiring this dashing officer's tour in the shenandoah valley, where he kept three major-generals and sixty thousand troops awake nights with fifteen thousand men, saved richmond, scared washington into fits, and prevented the union of mcclellan's and mcdowell's forces. had there been more such men, and a little more confidence in the great volume of typographical errors called confederate money, the lovely character who pens these lines might have had a different tale to tell. may 31 and june 1 occurred the battle of fair oaks, where mcclellan's men floundering in the mud of the chickahominy swamps were pounced upon by general johnston, who was wounded the first day. on the following day, as a result of this accident, johnston's men were repulsed in disorder. general robert e. lee, who was now in command of the confederate forces, desired to make his army even more offensive than it had been, and on june 12 general stuart led off with his cavalry, made the entire circuit of the union army, saw how it looked from behind, and returned to richmond, much improved in health, having had several meals of victuals while absent. hooker now marched to where he could see the dome of the court-house at richmond, but just then mcclellan heard that jackson had been seen in the neighborhood of hanover court-house, and so decided to change his base. general mcclellan was a man of great refinement, and would never use the same base over a week at a time. he had hardly got the base changed when lee fell upon his flank at mechanicsville, june 26, and the seven days' battle followed. the union troops fought and fell back, fought and fell back, until malvern hill was reached, where, worn with marching, choked with dust, and broken down by the heat, to which they were unaccustomed, they made their last stand, july 1. here lee got such a reception that he did not insist on going any farther. but the union army was cooped up on the james river. the siege of richmond had been abandoned, and the north felt blue and discouraged. three hundred thousand more men were called for, and it seemed that, as in the south, "the cradle and the grave were to be robbed" for more troops. lee now decided to take washington and butcher congress to make a roman holiday. general pope met the confederates august 26, and while lee and jackson were separated could have whipped the latter had the army of the potomac reinforced him as it should, but, full of malaria and foot-sore with marching, it did not reach him in time, and pope had to fight the entire confederate army on that historic ground covered with so many unpleasant memories and other things, called bull run. for the second time the worn and wilted union army was glad to get back to washington, where the president was, and where beer was only five cents per glass. oh, how sad everything seemed at that time to the north, and how high cotton cloth was! the bride who hastily married her dear one and bade him good-by as the bugle called him to the war, pointed with pride to her cotton clothes as a mark of wealth; and the middle classes were only too glad to have a little cotton mixed with their woollen clothes. [illustration: where beer was only five cents per glass.] lee invaded maryland, and mcclellan, restored to command of the army of the potomac, followed him, and found a copy of his order of march, which revealed the fact that only a portion of the army was before him. so, overtaking the confederates at south mountain, he was ready for a victory, but waited one day; and in the mountains lee got his troops united again, while jackson also returned. the union troops had over eighty thousand in their ranks, and nothing could have been more thoughtful or genteel than to wait for the confederates to get as many together as possible, otherwise the battle might have been brief and unsatisfactory to the tax-payer or newspaper subscriber, who of course wants his money's worth when he pays for a battle. [illustration: wants his money's worth when he pays for a battle.] the battle of antietam was a very fierce one, and undecisive, yet it saved washington from an invasion by the confederates, who would have done a good deal of trading there, no doubt, entirely on credit, thus injuring business very much and loading down washington merchants with book accounts, which, added to what they had charged already to members of congress, would have made times in washington extremely dull. general mcclellan, having impressed the country with the idea that he was a good bridge-builder, but a little too dilatory in the matter of carnage, was succeeded by general burnside. [illustration: still dropping in occasionally from the back districts.] president lincoln had written the proclamation of emancipation to the slaves in july, but waited for a victory before publishing it. bull run as a victory was not up to his standard; so when lee was driven from maryland the document was issued by which all slaves in the united states became free; and, although thirty-one years have passed at this writing, they are still dropping in occasionally from the back districts to inquire about the truth of the report. chapter xxvii. still more fraternal bloodshed, on principle.--outing features disappear, and give place to strained relations between combatants, who begin to mix things. on december 13 the year's business closed with the battle of fredericksburg, under the management of general burnside. twelve thousand union troops were killed before night mercifully shut down upon the slaughter. the confederates were protected by stone walls and situated upon a commanding height, from which they were able to shoot down the yankees with perfect sang-froid and deliberation. in the midst of all these discouragements, the red brother fetched loose in minnesota, iowa, and dakota, and massacred seven hundred men, women, and children. the outbreak was under the management of little crow, and was confined to the sioux nation. thirty-nine of these indians were hanged on the same scaffold at mankato, minnesota, as a result of this wholesale murder. this execution constitutes one of the green spots in the author's memory. in all lives now and then an oasis is liable to fall. this was oasis enough to last the writer for years. in 1863 the federal army numbered about seven hundred thousand men, and the confederates about three hundred and fifty thousand. still it took two more years to close the war. it is held now by good judges that the war was prolonged by the jealousy existing between union commanders who wanted to be president or something else, and that it took so much time for the generals to keep their eyes on caucuses and county papers at home that they fought best when surprised and attacked by the foe. general grant moved again on vicksburg, and on may 1, defeated pemberton at fort gibson. he also prevented a junction between joseph e. johnston and pemberton, and drove the latter into vicksburg, securing the stopper so tightly that after forty-seven days the garrison surrendered, july 4. this fight cost the confederates thirty-seven thousand prisoners, ten thousand killed and wounded, and immense quantities of stores. it was a warm time in vicksburg; a curious man who stuck his hat out for twenty seconds above the ramparts found fifteen bullet-holes in it when he took it down, and when he wore it to church he attracted more attention than the collection. the north now began to sit up and take notice. morning papers began to sell once more, and grant was the name on every tongue. the mississippi was open to the gulf, and the confederacy was practically surrounded. [illustration: attracted more attention than the collection.] rosecrans would have moved on the enemy, but learned that the foe had several head of cavalry more than he did, also a team of artillery. at this time john morgan made a raid into ohio. he surrounded cincinnati, but did not take it, as he was not keeping house at the time and hated to pay storage on it. he got to parkersburg, west virginia, and was captured there with almost his entire force. on september 19 and 20 occurred the battle of chickamauga. longstreet rushed into a breach in the union line and swept it with a great big besom of wrath with which he had wisely provided himself on starting out. rosecrans felt mortified when he came to himself and found that his horse had been so unmanageable that he had carried him ten miles from the carnage. but the left, under thomas, held fast its position, and no doubt saved the little band of sixty thousand men which rosecrans commanded at the time. his army now found itself shut up in intrenchments, with bragg on the hills threatening the union forces with starvation. on november 24-25 a battle near chattanooga took place, with grant at the head of the federal forces. hooker came to join him from the army of the potomac, and sherman hurried to his standard from iuka. thomas made a dash and captured orchard knob, and hooker, on the following day, charged lookout mountain. this was the most brilliant, perhaps, of grant's victories. it is known as the "battle of missionary ridge." hooker had exceeded his prerogative and kept on after capturing the crest of lookout mountain, while sherman was giving the foe several varieties of fits, from the north, when grant discovered that before him the line was being weakened in order to help the confederate flanks. so with thomas he crossed through the first line and over the rifle-pits, forgot that he had intended to halt and reform, and concluded to wait and reform after the war was over, when he should have more time, and that night along the entire line of heights the camp-fires of the union army winked at one another in ghoulish glee. the army under bragg was routed, and bragg resigned his command. burnside, who had been relieved of the command of the army of the potomac, was sent to east tennessee, where the brave but frost-bitten troops of longstreet shut him up at knoxville and compelled him to board at the railroad eating-house there. sherman's worn and weary boys were now ordered at once to the relief of burnside, and longstreet, getting word of it, made a furious assault on the former, who repulsed him with loss, and he went away from there as sherman approached from the west. [illustration: "where am i?"] hooker had succeeded burnside in the command of the army of the potomac, and he judged that, as lee was now left with but sixty thousand men, while the army of the potomac contained one hundred thousand who craved out-of-door exercise, he might do well to go and get lee, returning in the cool of the evening. lee, however, accomplished the division of his army while concealed in the woods and sent jackson to fall on hooker's rear. the close of the fight found hooker on his old camping-ground opposite fredericksburg, murmuring to himself, in a dazed sort of way, "where am i?" lee felt so good over this that he decided to go north and get something to eat. he also decided to get catalogues and price-lists of philadelphia and new york while there. threatening baltimore in order to mislead general meade, who was now in command of the federals, lee struck into pennsylvania and met with the union cavalry a little west of gettysburg on the chambersburg road. it is said that gettysburg was not intended by either army as the site for the battle, lee hoping to avoid a fight, depending as he did on the well-known hospitality of the pennsylvanians, and meade intending to have the fight at pipe creek, where he had some property. july 1-2-3 were the dates of this memorable battle. the first day was rather favorable to lee, quite a number of yankee prisoners being taken while they were lost in the crowded streets of gettysburg. the second day was opened by longstreet, who charged the union left, and ran across sickles, who had by mistake formed in the way of meade's intended line of battle. they outflanked him, but, as they swung around him, warren met them with a diabolical welcome, which stayed them. sickles found himself on cemetery ridge, while the confederates under ewell were on culp's hill. on the third day, at one p.m., lee opened with one hundred and fifty guns on cemetery ridge. the air was a hornet's nest of screaming shells with fiery tails. as it lulled a little, out of the woods came eighteen thousand men in battle-array extending over a mile in length. the yankees knew a good thing when they saw it, and they paused to admire this beautiful gathering of foemen in whose veins there flowed the same blood as in their own, and whose ancestors had stood shoulder to shoulder with their own in a hundred battles for freedom. their sentiment gave place to shouts of battle, and into the silent phalanx a hundred guns poured their red-hot messages of death. the golden grain was drenched with the blood of men no less brave because they were not victorious, and the rich fields of pennsylvania drank with thirsty eagerness the warm blood of many a southern son. yet they moved onward. volley after volley of musketry mowed them down, and the puny reaper in the neglected grain gave place to the grim reaper death, all down that unwavering line of gray and brown. they marched up to the union breastworks, bayoneted the gunners at their work, planted their flags on the parapets, and, while the federals converged from every point to this, exploding powder burned the faces of these contending hosts, who, hand to hand, fought each other to death, while far-away widows and orphans multiplied to mourn through the coming years over this ghastly folly of civil war. whole companies of the confederates rushed as prisoners into the arms of their enemies, and the shattered remnant of the battered foe retreated from the field. while all this was going on in pennsylvania, pemberton was arranging terms of surrender at vicksburg, and from this date onward the confederacy began to wobble in its orbit, and the president of this ill-advised but bitterly punished scheme began to wish that he had been in canada when the war broke out. in april of the same year admiral dupont, an able seaman with massive whiskers, decided to run the fortifications at charleston with iron-clads, but the charleston people thought they could run them themselves. so they drove him back after the sinking of the kennebec and the serious injury of all the other vessels. general gillmore then landed with troops. fort wagner was captured. the 54th regiment of colored troops, the finest organized in the free states, took a prominent part and fought with great coolness and bravery. by december there were fifty thousand colored troops enlisted, and before the war closed over two hundred thousand. it is needless to say that this made the yankee unpopular at the time in the best society of the south. general gillmore attempted to capture sumter, and did reduce it to a pulp, but when he went to gather it he was met by a garrison still concealed in the basement, and peppered with volleys of hot shingle-nails and other bric-à-brac, which forced him to retire with loss. he said afterward that fort sumter was not desirable anyhow. [illustration: price of living running up to eight hundred and nine hundred dollars per day.] this closed the most memorable year of the war, with the price of living at the south running up to eight hundred and nine hundred dollars per day, and currency depreciating so rapidly that one's salary had to be advanced every morning in order to keep pace with the price of mule-steaks. chapter xxviii. last year of the disagreeable war. general grant was now in command of all the union troops, and in 1864-5 the plan of operation was to prevent the junction of the confederates,--general grant seeking to interest the army in virginia under general lee, and general sherman the army of general joseph e. johnston in georgia. sherman started at once, and came upon johnston located on almost impregnable hills all the way to atlanta. the battles of dalton, resaca, dallas, lost mountain, and kenesaw mountain preceded johnston's retreat to the intrenchments of atlanta, july 10, sherman having been on the move since early in may, 1864. jefferson davis, disgusted with johnston, placed hood in command, who made three heroic attacks upon the union troops, but was repulsed. sherman now gathered fifteen days' rations from the neighbors, and, throwing his forces across hood's line of supplies, compelled him to evacuate the city. the historian says that sherman was entirely supplied from nashville _via_ railroad during this trip, but the author knows of his own personal knowledge that there were times when he got his fresh provisions along the road. [illustration: getting fresh provisions along the road.] this expedition cost the union army thirty thousand men and the confederates thirty-five thousand. besides, georgia was the confederacy, so far as arms, grain, etc., were concerned. sherman attributed much of his success to the fact that he could repair and operate the railroad so rapidly. among his men were yankee machinists and engineers, who were as necessary as courageous fighters. "we are held here during many priceless hours," said the general, "because the enemy has spoiled this passenger engine. who knows any thing about repairing an engine?" "i do," said a dusty tramp in blue. "i can repair this one in an hour." "what makes you think so?" "well, i made it." this was one of the strong features of sherman's army. among the hundred thousand who composed it there were so many active brains and skilled hands that the toot of the engine caught the heels of the last echoing shout of the battle. learning that hood proposed to invade tennessee, sherman prepared to march across georgia to the sea, and if necessary to tramp through the atlantic states. hood was sorry afterwards that he invaded tennessee. he shut thomas up in nashville after a battle with schofield, and kept the former in-doors for two weeks, when all of a sudden thomas exclaimed, "air! air! give me air!" and came out, throwing hood into headlong flight, when the union cavalry fell on his rear, followed by the infantry, and the forty thousand confederates became a scattered and discouraged mob spread out over several counties. the burning of atlanta preceded sherman's march, and, though one of the saddest features of the war, was believed to be a military necessity. those who declare war hoping to have a summer's outing thereby may live to regret it for many bitter years. on november 16, sherman started, his army moving in four columns, constituting altogether a column of fire by night, and a pillar of cloud and dust by day. kilpatrick's cavalry scoured the country like a mass meeting of ubiquitous little black tennessee hornets. in five weeks sherman had marched three hundred miles, had destroyed two railroads, had stormed fort mcallister, and had captured savannah. on the 5th and 6th of may, 1864, occurred the battle of the wilderness, near the old battleground of chancellorsville. no one could describe it, for it was fought in the dense woods, and the two days of useless butchery with not the slightest signs of civilized warfare sickened both armies, and, with no victory for either, they retired to their intrenchments. grant, instead of retreating, however, quietly passed the flank of the confederates and started for spottsylvania court-house, where a battle occurred may 8-12. here the two armies fought five days without any advantage to either. it was at this time that grant sent his celebrated despatch stating that he "proposed to fight it out on this line if it took all summer." finally he sought to turn lee's right flank. june 8, the battle of cold harbor followed this movement. the union forces were shot down in the mire and brush by lee's troops, now snugly in out of the wet, behind the cold harbor defences. one historian says that in twenty minutes ten thousand yankee troops were killed; though badeau, whose accuracy in counting dead has always been perfectly marvellous, admits only seven thousand in all. grant now turned his attention towards petersburg, but lee was there before him and intrenched, so the union army had to intrench. this only postponed the evil day, however. things now shaped themselves into a siege of richmond, with petersburg as the first outpost of the besieged capital. on the 30th of july, eight thousand pounds of powder were carefully inserted under a confederate fort and the entire thing hoisted in the air, leaving a huge hole, in which, a few hours afterwards, many a boy in blue met his death, for in the assault which followed the explosion the union soldiers were mowed down by the concentrated fire of the confederates. the federals threw away four thousand lives here. on the 18th of august the weldon railroad was captured, which was a great advantage to grant, and, though several efforts were made to recapture it, they were unsuccessful. [illustration: pausing to get laundry-work done.] general early was delegated to threaten washington and scare the able officers of the army who were stopping there at that time talking politics and abusing grant. he defeated general wallace at monocacy river, and appeared before fort stevens, one of the defences of washington, july 11. had he whooped right along instead of pausing a day somewhere to get laundry-work done before entering washington, he would easily have captured the city. reinforcements, however, got there ahead of him, and he had to go back. he sent a force of cavalry into pennsylvania, where they captured chambersburg and burned it on failure of the town trustees to pay five hundred thousand dollars ransom. general sheridan was placed in charge of the troops here, and defeated early at winchester, riding twenty miles in twenty minutes, as per poem. at fisher's hill he was also victorious. he devastated the valley of the shenandoah to such a degree that a crow passing the entire length of the valley had to carry his dinner with him. it was, however, at the battle of cedar creek that sheridan was twenty miles away, according to historical prose. why he was twenty miles away, various and conflicting reasons are given, but on his good horse rienzi he arrived in time to turn defeat and rout into victory and hilarity. rienzi, after the war, died in eleven states. he was a black horse, with a saddle-gall and a flashing eye. he passed away at his home in chicago at last in poverty while waiting for a pension applied for on the grounds of founder and lampers brought on by eating too heartily after the battle and while warm, but in the line of duty. the red river campaign under general banks was a joint naval and land expedition, resulting in the capture of fort de russy, march 14, after which, april 8, the troops marching towards shreveport in very open order, single file or holding one another's hands and singing "john brown's body," were attacked by general dick taylor, and if washington had not been so far away and through a hostile country, bull run would have had another rival. but the boys rallied, and next day repulsed the confederates, after which they returned to new orleans, where board was more reasonable. general banks obtained quite a relief at this time: he was relieved of his command. august 5, commodore farragut captured mobile, after a neat and attractive naval fight, and on the 24th and 25th of december commodore porter and general butler started out to take fort fisher. after two days' bombardment, butler decided that there were other forts to be had on better terms, and returned. afterwards general terry commanded the second expedition, porter having remained on hand with his vessels to assist. january 15, 1865, the most heroic fighting on both sides resulted, and at last, completely hemmed in, the brave and battered garrison surrendered; but no one who was there need blush to say so, even to-day. at the south at this time coffee was fifty dollars a pound and gloves were one hundred and fifty dollars a pair. flour was forty dollars a barrel; but you could get a barrel of currency for less than that. money was plenty, but what was needed seemed to be confidence. running the blockade was not profitable at that time, since over fifteen hundred head of confederate vessels were captured during the war. the capture of fort fisher closed the last port of the south, and left the confederacy no show with foreign powers or markets. the alabama was an armed steam-ship, and the most unpleasant feature of the war to the federal government, especially as she had more sympathy and aid in england than was asked for or expected by the unionists. however, england has since repaid all this loss in various ways. she has put from five to eight million dollars into cattle on the plains of the northwest, where the skeletons of same may be found bleaching in the summer sun; and i am personally acquainted with six americans now visiting england who can borrow enough in a year to make up all the losses sustained through the alabama and other neutral vessels. [illustration: personally acquainted with six americans.] captain semmes commanded the alabama, and off cherbourg he sent a challenge to the kearsarge, commanded by captain winslow, who accepted it, and so worked his vessel that the alabama had to move round him in a circle, while he filled her up with iron, lead, copper, tin, german silver, glass, nails, putty, paint, varnishes, and dye-stuff. at the seventh rotation the alabama ran up the white flag and sunk with a low mellow plunk. the crew was rescued by captain winslow and the english yacht deerhound, the latter taking semmes and starting for england. this matter, however, was settled in after-years. the care of the sick, the dying, and the dead in the union armies was almost entirely under the eye of the merciful and charitable, loyal and loving members of the sanitary and christian commissions, whose work and its memory kept green in the hearts of the survivors and their children will be monument enough for the coming centuries. in july, 1864, the debt of the country was two billion dollars and twenty cents. two dollars and ninety cents in greenbacks would buy a reluctant gold dollar. still, abraham lincoln was re-elected against george b. mcclellan, the democratic candidate, who carried only three states. this was endorsement enough for the policy of president lincoln. sherman's army of sixty thousand, after a month's rest at savannah, started north to unite with grant in the final blow. "before it was terror, behind it ashes." columbia was captured february 17, and burned, without sherman's authority, the night following. charleston was evacuated the next day. johnston was recalled to take command, and opposed the march of sherman, but was driven back after fierce engagements at bentonville and averysboro. on march 25 lee decided to attack grant, and, while the latter was busy, get out of richmond and join johnston, but when this battle, known as the attack on fort steadman, was over, grant's hold was tighter than ever. sheridan attacked lee's rear with a heavy force, and at five forks, april 1, the surprised garrison was defeated with five thousand captured. the next day the entire union army advanced, and the line of confederate intrenchments was broken. on the following day petersburg and richmond were evacuated, but mr. davis was not there. he had gone away. rather than meet general grant and entertain him when there was no pie in the house, he and the treasury had escaped from the haunts of man, wishing to commune with nature for a while. he was captured at irwinsville, georgia, under peculiar and rather amusing circumstances. he was never punished, with the exception perhaps that he published a book and did not realize anything from it. lee fled to the westward, but was pursued by the triumphant federals, especially by sheridan, whose cavalry hung on his flanks day and night. food failed the fleeing foe, and the young shoots of trees for food and the larger shoots of the artillery between meals were too much for that proud army, once so strong and confident. let us not dwell on the particulars. as sheridan planted his cavalry squarely across lee's path of retreat, the worn but heroic tatters of a proud army prepared to sell themselves for a bloody ransom and go down fighting, but grant had demanded their surrender, and, seeing back of the galling, skirmishing cavalry solid walls of confident infantry, the terms of surrender were accepted by general lee, and april 9 the confederate army stacked its arms near appomattox court-house. the confederate war debt was never paid, for some reason or other, but the federal debt when it was feeling the best amounted to two billion eight hundred and forty-four million dollars. one million men lost their lives. was it worth while? in the midst of the general rejoicing, president lincoln was assassinated by john wilkes booth at ford's theatre, april 14. the assassin was captured in a dying condition in a burning barn, through a crack in the boarding of which he had been shot by a soldier named boston corbett. he died with no sympathetic applause to soothe the dull, cold ear of death. west virginia was admitted to the union in 1863, and nevada in 1864. the following chapters will be devoted to more peaceful details, while we cheerfully close the sorrowful pages in which we have confessed that, with all our greatness as a nation, we could not stay the tide of war. chapter xxix. too much liberty in places and not enough elsewhere.--thoughts on the late war--who is the bigger ass, the man who will not forgive and forget, or the mawkish and moist-eyed sniveller who wants to do that all the time? when patrick henry put his old cast-iron spectacles on the top of his head and whooped for liberty, he did not know that some day we should have more of it than we knew what to do with. he little dreamed that the time would come when we should have more liberty than we could pay for. when mr. henry sawed the air and shouted for liberty or death, i do not believe that he knew the time would come when liberty would stand on bedloe's island and yearn for rest and change of scene. it seems to me that we have too much liberty in this country in some ways. we have more liberty than we have money. we guarantee that every man in america shall fill himself up full of liberty at our expense, and the less of an american he is the more liberty he can have. should he desire to enjoy himself, all he needs is a slight foreign accent and a willingness to mix up with politics as soon as he can get his baggage off the steamer. the more i study american institutions the more i regret that i was not born a foreigner, so that i could have something to say about the management of our great land. if i could not be a foreigner, i believe i should prefer to be a policeman or an indian not taxed. [illustration: patrick henry's great speech.] i am often led to ask, in the language of the poet, "is civilization a failure, and is the caucasian played out?" [illustration: the more i regret that i was not born a foreigner.] almost every one can have a good deal of fun in america except the american. he seems to be so busy paying his taxes that he has very little time to vote, or to mingle in society's giddy whirl, or to mix up with the nobility. that is the reason why the alien who rides across the united states in the "limited mail" and writes a book about us before breakfast wonders why we are always in a hurry. that also is the reason why we have to throw our meals into ourselves with such despatch, and hardly have time to maintain a warm personal friendship with our families. we do not care much for wealth, but we must have freedom, and freedom costs money. we have advertised to furnish a bunch of freedom to every man, woman, and child who comes to our shores, and we are going to deliver the goods whether we have any left for ourselves or not. what would the great world beyond the seas say to us if some day the blue-eyed oriental, with his heart full of love for our female seminaries and our old women's homes, should land upon our coasts and crave freedom in car-load lots but find that we were using all the liberty ourselves? but what do we want of liberty, anyhow? what could we do with it if we had it? it takes a man of leisure to enjoy liberty, and we have no leisure whatever. it is a good thing to keep in the house for the use of guests, but we don't need it for ourselves. therefore we have a statue of liberty enlightening the world, because it shows that we keep liberty on tap winter and summer. we want the whole broad world to remember that when it gets tired of oppression it can come here to america and oppress us. we are used to it, and we rather like it. if we don't like it, we can get on the steamer and go abroad, where we may visit the effete monarchies and have a high old time. [illustration: may be led to try it on himself.] the sight of the goddess of liberty standing there in new york harbor night and day, bathing her feet in the rippling sea, is a good thing. it is first-rate. it may also be productive of good in a direction that many have not thought of. as she stands there day after day, bathing her feet in the broad atlantic, perhaps some moss-grown alien landing on our shore and moving toward the far west may fix the bright picture in his so-called mind, and, remembering how, on his arrival in new york, he saw liberty bathing her feet with impunity, he may be led in after-years to try it on himself. more citizens and less voters will some day be adopted as the motto of the republic. one reference to the late war, and i will close. i want to refer especially to the chronic reconciler who when war was declared was not involved in it, but who now improves every opportunity, especially near election-time, to get out a tired olive-branch and make a tableau of himself. he is worse than the man who cannot forgive or forget. the growth of reconciliation between the north and the south is the slow growth of years, and the work of generations. when any man, north or south, in a public place takes occasion to talk in a mellow and mawkish way of the great love he now has for his old enemy, watch him. he is getting ready to ask a favor. there is a beautiful, poetic idea in the reunion of two contending and shattered elements of a great nation. there is something beautifully pathetic in the picture of the north and the south clasped in each other's arms and shedding a torrent of hot tears down each other's backs as it is done in a play, but do you believe that the aged mothers on either side have learned to love the foe with much violence yet? do you believe that the crippled veteran, north or south, now passionately loves the adversary who robbed him of his glorious youth, made him a feeble ruin, and mowed down his comrades with swift death? do you believe that either warrior is so fickle that he has entirely deserted the cause for which he fought? even the victor cannot ask that. "let the gentle finger of time undo, so far as may be, the devastation wrought by the war, and let succeeding generations seek through natural methods to reunite the business and the traffic that were interrupted by the war. let the south guarantee to the northern investor security to himself and his investment, and he will not ask for the love which we read of in speeches but do not expect and do not find in the south. "two warring parents on the verge of divorce have been saved the disgrace of separation and agreed to maintain their household for the sake of their children. their love has been questioned by the world, and their relations strained. is it not bad taste for them to pose in public and make a cheap romeo and juliet tableau of themselves? "let time and merciful silence obliterate the scars of war, and succeeding generations, fostered by the smiles of national prosperity, soften the bitterness of the past and mellow the memory of a mighty struggle in which each contending host called upon almighty god to sustain the cause which it honestly believed to be just." let us be contented during this generation with the assurance that geographically the union has been preserved, and that each contending warrior has once more taken up the peaceful struggle for bettering and beautifying the home so bravely fought for. chapter xxx. reconstruction without pain--administrations of johnson and grant. it was feared that the return of a million federal soldiers to their homes after the four years of war would make serious trouble in the north, but they were very shortly adjusted to their new lives and attending to the duties which peace imposed upon them. the war of the rebellion was disastrous to nearly every branch of trade, but those who remained at home to write the war-songs of the north did well. some of these efforts were worthy, and, buoyed up by a general feeling of robust patriotism, they floated on to success; but few have stood the test of years and monotonous peace. the author of "mother, i am hollow to the ground" is just depositing his profits from its sale in the picture given on next page. the second one, wearing the cape-overcoat tragedy air, wrote "who will be my laundress now?" andrew johnson succeeded to mr. lincoln's seat, having acted before as his vice. a great review of the army, lasting twelve hours, was arranged to take place in washington, consisting of the armies of grant and sherman. it was reviewed by the president and cabinet; it extended over thirty miles twenty men deep, and constituted about one-fifth of the northern army at the time peace was declared. [illustration: the stay-at-homes who wrote war-songs.] president johnson recognized the state governments existing in virginia, tennessee, arkansas, and louisiana, but instituted provisional governments for the other states of the defeated confederacy, as it seemed impossible otherwise to bring order out of the chaos which war and financial distress had brought about. he authorized the assembly also of loyal conventions to elect state and other officers, and pardoned by proclamation everybody, with the exception of a certain class of the late insurgents whom he pardoned personally. on christmas day, 1868, a universal amnesty was declared. the thirteenth amendment, abolishing slavery, became a part of the constitution, december 18, 1865, and the former masters found themselves still morally responsible for these colored people, without the right to control them or even the money with which to employ them. the annual interest on the national debt at this time amounted to one hundred and fifty million dollars. yet the treasury paid this, together with the expenses of government, and reduced the debt seventy-one million dollars before the volunteer army had been fully discharged in 1866. comment on such recuperative power as that is unnecessary; for the generation that fights a four-years war costing over two billions of dollars generally leaves the debt for another generation or another century to pay. congress met finally, ignored the president's rollicking welcome to the seceded states, and over his veto proceeded to pass various laws regarding their admission, such as the civil rights and freedman's bureau bills. tennessee returned promptly to the union under the constitutional amendments, but the others did not till the nightmare of reconstruction had been added to the horrors of war. in 1868, after much time worse than wasted in carpet-bag government and a mob reign in the south which imperilled her welfare for many years after it was over, by frightening investors and settlers long after peace had been restored, representatives began to come into congress under the laws. during this same year the hostilities between congress and the president culminated in an effort to impeach the latter. he escaped by one vote. it is very likely that the assassination of lincoln was the most unfortunate thing that happened to the southern states. while he was not a warrior, he was a statesman, and no gentler hand or more willing brain could have entered with enthusiasm into the adjustment of chaotic conditions, than his. the fourteenth amendment, a bright little _bon mot_, became a law june 28, 1868, and was written in the minutes of congress, so that people could go there and refresh their memories regarding it. it guaranteed civil rights to all, regardless of race, color, odor, wildness or wooliness whatsoever, and allows all noses to be counted in congressional representations, no matter what angle they may be at or what the color may be. some american citizens murmur at taxation without representation, but the negro murmurs at representation without remuneration. the fenian excitement of 1866 died out without much loss of life. in october, 1867, alaska was purchased from russia for seven million two hundred thousand dollars. the ice-crop since then would more than pay for the place, and it has also a water-power and cranberry marsh on it. the rule of the imperialists in france prompted the appointment of maximilian, archduke of austria, as emperor of mexico, supported by the french army. the americans, still sore and in debt at the heels of their own war, pitied the helpless mexicans, and, acting on the principles enunciated in the monroe doctrine, demanded the recall of maximilian, who, deserted finally by his foreign abettors, was defeated and as a prisoner shot by the mexicans, june 19, 1867. the atlantic cable was laid from valentia bay in ireland to heart's content, newfoundland, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four miles, and the line from new york to the latter place built in 1856, a distance of one thousand miles, making in all, as keen mathematicians will see, two thousand eight hundred and sixty-four miles. a very agreeable commercial treaty with china was arranged in 1868. grant and colfax, republicans, succeeded andrew johnson in the next election, horatio seymour, of new york, and frank p. blair, of missouri, being the democratic nominees. virginia and mississippi had not been fully reconstructed, and so were not yet permitted to vote. they have squared the matter up since, however, by voting with great enthusiasm. in 1869 the pacific railroad was completed, whereby the trip from the atlantic to the pacific--three thousand and three hundred miles--might be made in a week. it also attracted the asiatic trade, and tea, silk, spices, and leprosy found a new market in the land of the free and the home of the brave. still flushed with its success in humorous legislation, congress, on the 30th of march, 1870, passed the fifteenth amendment, giving to the colored men the right to vote. it then became a part of the constitution, and people who have seen it there speak very highly of it. prosperity now attracted no attention whatever. gold, worth nearly three dollars at the close of the war, fell to a dollar and ten cents, and the debt during the first two years of this administration was reduced two hundred million dollars. genuine peace reigned in the entire republic, and o'er the scarred and shell-torn fields of the south there waved, in place of hostile banners, once more the cotton and the corn. the red foliage of the gum-tree with the white in the snowy white cotton-fields and the blue-grass of kentucky (blue-grass is not, strictly speaking, blue enough to figure in the national colors, but the author has taken out a poetic license which does not expire for over a year yet, and he therefore under its permission is allowed a certain amount of idiocy) showed that the fields had never forgotten their loyalty to the national colors. peace under greatly changed conditions resumed her vocations, and, in the language of the poet,- "there were domes of white blossoms where swelled the white tent; there were ploughs in the track where the war-wagons went; there were songs where they lifted up rachel's lament." october 8, 1871, occurred the great fire in chicago, raging for forty-eight hours and devastating three thousand acres of the city. twenty-five thousand buildings were burned, and two hundred million dollars' worth of property. one hundred thousand people lost their houses, and over seven and one-half millions of dollars were raised for those who needed it, all parts of the world uniting to improve the joyful opportunity to do good, without a doubt of its hearty appreciation. boston also had a seventy-million dollar fire in the heart of the wholesale trade, covering sixty acres; and in the prairie and woods fires of wisconsin, minnesota, and michigan, many people lost not only their homes but their lives. fifteen hundred people perished in wisconsin alone. in 1871 the damage done by the alabama, a british-built ship, and several other cruisers sent out partly to facilitate the cotton trade and partly to do a little fighting when a federal vessel came that way, was assessed at fifteen million five hundred thousand dollars against great britain by the arbitrators who met at geneva, switzerland, and the northwestern boundary line between the united states and british america was settled by arbitration, the emperor of germany acting as arbitrator and deciding in favor of america. this showed that people who have just wound up a big war have often learned some valuable sense; not two billion dollars' worth, perhaps, but some. san domingo was reported for sale, and a committee looked at it, priced it, etc., but congress decided not to buy it. the liberal republican party, or that element of the original party which was opposed to the administration, nominated horace greeley, of new york, while the old party renominated general grant for the term to succeed himself. the latter was elected, and mr. greeley did not long survive his defeat. the modoc indians broke loose in the early part of grant's second term, and, leaping from their lava-beds early in the morning, shacknasty jim and other unlaundried children of the forest raised merry future punishment, and the government, always kind, always loving and sweet toward the red brother, sent a peace commission with popcorn balls and a gentle-voiced parson to tell shacknasty james and old stand-up-and-sit-down that the white father at washington loved them and wanted them all to come and spend the summer at his house, and also that by sin death came into the world, and that we were all primordial germs at first, and that we should look up, not down, look out, not in, look forward, not backward, and lend a hand. [illustration: peace commission pow-wowing with the modocs.] it was at this moment that early-to-bed-and early-to-rise-black hawk and shacknasty james, thinking that this thing had gone far enough, killed general canby and wounded both mr. meacham and rev. dr. thomas, who had never had an unkind thought toward the modocs in their lives. the troops then allowed their ill temper to get the best of them, and asked the modocs if they meant anything personal by their action, and, learning that they did, the soldiers did what with the proper authority they would have done at first, bombarded the children of the forest and mussed up their lava-beds so that they were glad to surrender. in 1873 a panic occurred after the failure of jay cooke & co., of philadelphia, and a money stringency followed, the democrats attributing it a good deal to the party in power, just as cheap republicans twenty years later charged the democratic administration with this same thing. inconsistency of this kind keeps good men, like the writer, out of politics, and turns their attention toward the contemplation of a better land. [illustration: talking about the centennial.] in 1875 centennial anniversaries began to ripen and continued to fall off the different branches of government, according to the history of events so graphically set forth in the preceding pages. they were duly celebrated by a happy and self-made people. the centennial exposition at philadelphia in 1876 was a marked success in every way, nearly ten millions of people having visited it, who claimed that it was well worth the price of admission. aside from the fact that these ten millions of people had talked about it to millions of folks at home,--or thought they had,--the exposition was a boon to every one, and thousands of americans went home with a knowledge of their country that they had never had before, and pointers on blowing out gas which saved many lives in after-years. [illustration: move on, maroon brother, move on!] chapter xxxi. closing chronicles. in 1876 the peaceful sioux took an outing, having refused to go to their reservation in accordance with the treaty made with the great father at washington, d. c., and regular troops were sent against them. general custer, with the 7th regiment, led the advance, and general terry aimed for the rear of the children of the forest up the big horn. here, on the 25th of june, without assistance, and with characteristic courage, general custer attacked the enemy, sending colonel reno to fall on the rear of the village. scarcely enough of custer's own command with him at the time lived long enough to tell the story of the battle. general custer, his two brothers, and his nephew were among the dead. reno held his ground until reinforced, but custer's troops were exterminated. it is said that the sioux rose from the ground like bunch-grass and swarmed up the little hill like a pest of grasshoppers, mowing down the soldiers with the very newest and best weapons of warfare, and leaving nothing at last but the robbed and mutilated bodies lying naked in the desolate land of the dakotah. the fenimore cooper indian is no doubt a brave and highly intellectual person, educated abroad, refined and cultivated by foreign travel, graceful in the grub dance or scalp walk-around, yet tender-hearted as a girl, walking by night fifty-seven miles in a single evening to warn his white friends of danger. the indian introduced into literature was a bronze apollo who bathed almost constantly and only killed white people who were unpleasant and coarse. he dressed in new and fresh buckskins, with trimming of same, and his sable hair hung glossy and beautiful down the coppery billows of muscles on his back. the real indian has the dead and unkempt hair of a busted buggy-cushion filled with hen feathers. he lies, he steals, he assassinates, he mutilates, he tortures. he needs persian powder long before he needs the theology which abler men cannot agree upon. we can, in fact, only retain him as we do the buffalo, so long as he complies with the statutes. but the red brother is on his way to join the cave-bear, the three-toed horse, and the ichthyosaurus in the great fossil realm of the historic past. move on, maroon brother, move on! [illustration: on his way to join the cave-bear, the three-toed horse, and the ichthyosaurus.] rutherford b. hayes and william a. wheeler were nominated in the summer of 1876, and so close was the fight against samuel j. tilden and thomas a. hendricks that friends of the latter to this day refer to the selection of hayes and wheeler by a joint electoral commission to whom the contested election was referred, as a fraud and larceny on the part of the republican party. it is not the part of an historian, who is absolutely destitute of political principles, to pass judgment. facts have crept into this history, it is true, but no one could regret it more than the author; yet there has been no bias or political prejudice shown, other than that reflected from the historical sources whence information was necessarily obtained. hayes was chosen, and gave the country an unruffled, unbiased administration, devoid of frills, and absolutely free from the appearance of hostility to any one. he was one of the most conciliatory presidents ever elected by republican votes or counted in by a joint electoral commission. he withdrew all troops from the south, and in several southern states things wore a democratic air at once. in 1873 congress demonetized silver, and quite a number of business-men were demonetized at the same time; so in 1878 silver was made a legal tender for all debts. as a result, in 1879 gold for the first time in seventeen years sold at par. troubles arose in 1878 over the right to fish in the northeast waters, and the treaty at washington resulted in an award to great britain of five million five hundred thousand dollars, with the understanding that wasteful fishing should cease, and that as soon as either party got enough for a mess he should go home, no matter how well the fish seemed to be biting. the right to regulate chinese immigration was given by treaty at pekin, and ever since the chinaman has entered our enclosures in some mysterious way, made enough in a few years to live like a potentate in china, and returned, leaving behind a pleasant memory and a chiffonnier here and there throughout the country filled with scorched shirt-bosoms, acid-eaten collars, and white vests with burglar-proof, ingrowing pockets in them. the next nominations for president and vice-president were james a. garfield, of ohio, and chester a. arthur, of new york, on the republican ticket, and winfield s. hancock, of pennsylvania, and william h. english, of indiana, on the democratic ticket. james b. weaver was connected with this campaign also. who will tell us what he had to do with it? can no one tell us what james b. weaver had to do with the campaign of 1881? very well; i will tell you what he had to do with the campaign of 1881. he was the presidential candidate on the greenback ticket, but it was kept so quiet that i am not surprised to know that you did not hear about it. after the inauguration of garfield the investigation and annulling of star-route contracts fraudulently obtained were carried out, whereby two million dollars' worth of these corrupt agreements were rendered null and void. on the morning of july 2, president garfield was shot by a poor, miserable, unbalanced, and abnormal growth whose name will not be discovered even in the appendix of this work. he was tried, convicted, and sent squealing into eternity. the president lingered patiently for two months and a half, when he died. [illustration: a person jumping from it is not always killed.] after the accession of president arthur, there occurred floods on the lower mississippi, whereby one hundred thousand people lost their homes. the administration was not in any way to blame for this. in 1883 the brooklyn bridge across east river was completed and ready for jumping purposes. it was regarded as a great engineering success at the time, but it is now admitted that it is not high enough. a person jumping from it is not always killed. the same year the civil service bill became a law. it provides that competitive examinations shall be made of certain applicants for office, whereby mail-carriers must prove that they know how to teach school, and guards in united states penitentiaries are required to describe how to navigate a ship. possibly recent improvements have been made by which the curriculum is more fitted to the crime, but in the early operations of the law the janitor of a jail had to know what length shadow would be cast by a pole 18 feet 6-1/4 inches high on the third day of july at 11 o'clock 30 min. and 20 sec. standing on a knoll 35 feet 8-1/8 inches high, provided 8 men in 9 days can erect such a pole working 8 hours per day. in 1883 letter postage was reduced from three cents to two cents per half-ounce, and in 1885 to two cents per ounce. in 1884 alaska was organized as a territory, and after digging the snow out of sitka, so that the governor should not take cold in his system, it was made the seat of government. chinese immigration in 1882 was forbidden for ten years, and in 1884 a treaty with mexico was made, a copy of which is on file in the state department, but not allowed to be loaned to the author for use in this work. grover cleveland and thomas a. hendricks were nominated and elected at the end of president arthur's term, running against james g. blaine and john a. logan, the republican candidates, also benjamin f. butler and a. m. west, of mississippi, on the people's ticket, and john p. st. john and william daniel on the prohibition ticket. st. john went home and kept bees, so that he could have honey to eat on his kansas locusts, and daniel swore he would never enter the performing cage of immoral political wild beasts again while reason remained on her throne. in 1886 a presidential succession law was passed, whereby on the death of the president and the vice-president the order of succession shall be the secretary of state, the secretary of the treasury, the secretary of war, the attorney-general, the postmaster-general, and the secretaries of the navy and of the interior. this gives the secretary of agriculture an extremely remote and rarefied chance at the presidency. still, he should be just as faithful to his trust as he would be if he were nearer the throne. may 4, 1886, occurred a terrible outbreak of chicago anarchists, whereby seven policemen sent to preserve order were killed by the bursting of an anarchist's bomb. the anarchists were tried and executed, with the exception of ling, who ate a dynamite capsule and passed into rest having had his features, and especially his nose, blown in a swift and earnest manner. death resulted, and whiskers and beer-blossoms are still found embedded in the stone walls of his cell. those who attended the funeral say that ling from a scenic point of view was not a success. governor altgeld, of illinois, an amateur american, in the summer of 1893 pardoned two of the anarchists who had escaped death by imprisonment. august 31, 1886, in charleston, occurred several terrible earthquake shocks, which seriously damaged the city and shocked and impaired the nerves and health of hundreds of people. the noted heroism and pluck of the people of charleston were never shown to greater advantage than on this occasion. mr. cleveland was again nominated, but was defeated by general benjamin harrison. hon. james g. blaine, of maine, was made secretary of state, and wm. windom, a veteran financier, secretary of the treasury. secretary windom's tragic death just as he had finished a most brilliant address to the great capitalists of new york after their annual dinner and discussion at delmonico's is, and will ever remain, while life lasts, a most dramatic picture in the author's memory. personally, the administration of president harrison will be long remembered for the number of deaths among the families of the executive and those of his cabinet and friends. nebraska, the thirty-seventh state, was admitted march 1, 1867. the name signifies "water valley." colorado, the centennial state, was the thirty-eighth. she was admitted july 1, 1876. six other states have been since admitted when the political sign was right. still, they have not always stuck by the party admitting them to the union. this is the kind of ingratitude which sometimes leads to the reformation of politicians supposed to have been dead in sin. president harrison's administration was a thoroughly upright and honest one, so far as it was possible for it to be after his party had drifted into the musty catacombs of security in office and the ship of state had become covered with large and expensive barnacles. as we go to press, his successor, grover cleveland, in the first year of his second administration, is paying a high price for fleeting fame, with the serious question of what to do with the relative coinage of gold and silver, and the democrats in congress, for the first time in the history of the world, are referring each other with hot breath and flashing eye to the platform they adopted at the national convention. heretofore among the politicians a platform, like that on the railway cars, "is made for the purpose of helping the party to get aboard, but not to ride on." the columbian exposition and world's fair at chicago in the summer of 1893 eclipsed all former exhibitions, costing more and showing greater artistic taste, especially in its buildings, than anything preceding it. some gentle warfare resulted from a struggle over the question of opening the "white city" on sunday, and a great deal of bitterness was shown by those who opposed the opening and who had for years favored the sunday closing of niagara. a doubtful victory was obtained by the sunday openers, for so many of the exhibitors closed their departments that visitors did not attend on sunday in paying quantities. against a thousand odds and over a thousand obstacles, especially the apprehension of asiatic cholera and the actual sudden appearance of a gigantic money panic, chicago, heroic and victorious, carried out her mighty plans and gave to the world an exhibition that won golden opinions from her friends and stilled in dumb wonder the jealousy of her enemies. in the mean time, the author begs leave to thank his readers for the rapt attention shown in perusing these earnest pages, and to apologize for the tears of sympathy thoughtlessly wrung from eyes unused to weep, by the graphic word-painting and fine education shown by the author. it was not the intention of the writer to touch the fountain of tears and create wash-outs everywhere, but sometimes tears do one good. in closing, would it be out of place to say that the stringency of the money market is most noticeable and most painful, and for that reason would it be too much trouble for the owner of this book to refuse to loan it, thereby encouraging its sale and contributing to the comfort of a deserving young man? the end. * * * * * appendix. the idea of an appendix to this work was suggested by a relative, who promised to prepare it, but who has been detained now for over a year in one of the public buildings of colorado on the trumped-up charge of horse-stealing. the very fact that he was not at once hanged shows that the charge was not fully sustained, and that the horse was very likely of little value. the author. [transcriber's note: obvious printer's errors have been corrected. hyphenation and accentuation have been standardised, all other inconsistencies are as in the original. the author's spelling has been maintained.] the history of the nineteenth century in caricature [illustration: what it is and what is it?] the history of the nineteenth century in caricature by arthur bartlett maurice and frederic taber cooper _profusely illustrated_ london grant richards 1904 copyright, 1903, 1904 by dodd, mead and company burr printing house new york contents chapter page part i. the napoleonic era i. the beginning of political caricature 1 ii. hogarth and his times 12 iii. james gillray 19 iv. bonaparte as first consul 28 v. the emperor at his apogee 35 vi. napoleon's waning power 44 part ii. from waterloo through the crimean war vii. after the downfall 57 viii. the "poire" 65 ix. the baiting of louis-phillipe 73 x. mayeux and robert macaire 90 xi. from cruikshank to leech 97 xii. the beginning of punch 101 xiii. retrospective 111 xiv. '48 and the coup d'état 119 xv. the struggle in the crimea 128 part iii. the civil and franco-prussian wars xvi. the mexican war and slavery 143 xvii. neglected opportunities 159 xviii. the south secedes 166 xix. the four years' struggle 175 xx. nations and men in caricature 188 xxi. the outbreak of the franco-prussian war 197 xxii. the débâcle 206 part iv. the end of the century xxiii. the evolution of american caricature 231 xxiv. the third french republic 236 xxv. general european affairs 245 xxvi. thomas nast 255 xxvii. the american political campaigns of 1880 and 1884 269 xxviii. the influence of journalism 278 xxix. years of turbulence 289 xxx. american parties and platforms 309 xxxi. the spanish-american war 330 xxxii. the boer war and the dreyfus case 342 xxxiii. the men of to-day 355 list of illustrations page what it is and what is it? frontispiece french invasion of england 3 nelson at the battle of the nile (gillray) 5 bonaparte after landing (gillray) 6 john bull taking a luncheon (gillray) 8 french consular triumvirate (gillray) 11 capture of the danish ships (gillray) 14 the broad-bottom administration (gillray) 16 pacific overtures (gillray) 19 the great coronation procession (gillray) 21 napoleon and pitt (gillray) 23 armed heroes (gillray) 25 the handwriting on the wall (gillray) 27 the double-faced napoleon (german cartoon) 29 the two kings of terror (rowlandson) 31 the king of brobdingnag and gulliver (gillray) 33 napoleon's burden (german cartoon) 36 the french gingerbread baker (gillray) 38 the devil and napoleon (french cartoon) 39 the consultation (french cartoon) 41 the corsican top in full flight 45 napoleon in the valley of the shadow of death (gillray) 47 the spider's web (volk) 48 the partition of the map 49 napoleon's plight (french cartoon) 50 the signature of abdication (cruikshank) 52 the allies' oven (french cartoon) 54 the new robinson crusoe (german cartoon) 55 napoleon caged (french cartoon) 56 restitution 58 adjusting the balance 60 john bull's new batch of ships (charles) 62 russia as mediator (charles) 63 the cossack bite (charles) 63 john bull and the alexandrians (charles) 64 john bull's troubles (charles) 64 the order of the extinguishers (french cartoon) 67 proudhon 68 digging the grave 69 le poire (philipon) 70 the pious monarch 74 the great nut-cracker 75 enfoncé lafayette (daumier) 77 the ship of state in peril 79 the pit of taxation (grandville) 81 the question of divorce (daumier) 83 the resuscitation (grandville) 84 louis philippe as bluebeard (grandville) 85 barbarism and cholera invading 89 the raid 89 mayeux (traviès) 91 robert macaire (daumier) 93 extinguished! 94 louis philippe as cain 95 laughing john--crying john 96 the wellington boot 99 the land of liberty 103 england's admonition (leech) 104 the napoleon of peace 105 the sea-serpent of 1848 107 europe in 1830 109 honoré daumier (benjamin) 112 the evolution of john bull 115 joseph prudhomme (daumier) 116 the only authorised lamps (vernier) 120 italian cartoon of '48 121 napoleon le petit (vernier) 122 the new siamese twins 123 louis napoleon and madame france 124 the proclamation (gill) 125 split crow in the crimea 126 bursting of the russian bubble 130 general février turned traitor (leech) 131 rochefort and his lantern 133 brothers in arms 134 an american cartoon on the crimean war 136 theatrical programme 138 the british lion's vengeance (tenniel) 139 the french porcupine (leech) 141 bank-oh's ghost, 1837 144 balaam and balaam's ass 144 new map of the united states 145 the steeplechase for 1844 147 uncle sam's taylorifics 150 the mexican commander 151 defense of the california bank 153 the presidential foot race 153 presidential campaign of '56 154 no higher law 155 the fugitive slave law 157 the great disunion serpent 158 rough and ready locomotive against the field 160 sauce for goose and gander 162 peace (nast) 164 virginia pausing 166 civil war envelopes 167 long abe 168 the promissory note 169 the great tight rope feat 170 at the throttle 171 the expert bartender 172 the southern confederacy a fact 173 the brighter prospect 174 "why don't you take it?" 175 the old bull dog on the right track 176 little mac in his great act 178 the grave of the union 180 the abolition catastrophe 181 the blockade 182 miscegenation 183 the confederacy in petticoats 184 uncle sam's menagerie 185 protecting free ballot 186 the nation at lincoln's bier (tenniel) 187 figures from a triumph 189 the diagnosis (cham) 190 the egerean nymph (daumier) 191 paul and virginia (gill) 192 the first conscript of france (gill) 193 the situation (gill) 195 louis blanc (gill) 197 rival arbiters (tenniel) 198 the man who laughs (gill) 199 the man who thinks (gill) 200 "to be or not to be" (gill) 201 achilles in retreat (gill) 202 the president of rhodes (daumier) 203 a tempest in a glass of water (gill) 204 a duel to the death (tenniel) 205 september 4th, 1870 206 her baptism of fire (tenniel) 207 andré gill 208 the marquis de galliffet (willette) 209 the history of a reign (daumier) 210 "this has killed that" (daumier) 211 the mousetrap and its victims (daumier) 211 prussia annexes alsace (cham) 213 britannia's sympathy (cham) 214 adieu (cham) 215 souvenirs and regrets (aranda) 216 the napoleon mountebanks (hadol) 217 prussia introducing the new assembly (daumier) 219 "let us eat the prussian" (gill) 220 design for a new handbell (daumier) 222 germany's farewell 223 bismarck the first 224 trochu--1870 225 marshal bazaine (faustin) 226 rochefort 227 the german emperor enters paris (régamey) 228 caran d'ache 232 gulliver crispi 233 changing the map (gill) 234 poor france! (daumier) 237 the warning (daumier) 238 the new year (daumier) 239 the root of all evil 240 the napoleonic drama 241 the french political situation (régamey) 243 new crowns for old 245 tightening the grip 246 aeolus 247 "l'état, c'est moi" 248 the hidden hand 249 the irish frankenstein 250 the daring duckling 251 settling the alabama claims 252 gordon waiting at khartoum 253 the gratz brown tag to greeley's coat (nast) 256 thomas nast 257 labour cap and dinner pail (nast) 259 the rag baby (nast) 260 the inflation donkey (nast) 261 the brains of tammany (nast) 262 a popular verdict 263 the tattooed columbia (keppler) 264 splitting the party 265 the headless candidates 266 on the down grade 267 forbidding the banns (keppler) 270 the wake (keppler) 272 a common sorrow 273 why they dislike him 274 the first tattooed man (gillam) 275 a german idea of irish home rule 279 the new national sexton 280 horatius cleveland 281 bernard gillam 282 joseph keppler 283 the john bull octopus 285 the hand of anarchy 286 the triple alliance 287 a present-day lesson 290 gordon in khartoum 291 the spurious parnell letters 291 dropping the pilot (tenniel) 292 l'enfant terrible 293 william bluebeard 294 chinese native cartoon 295 japan in corea 296 business at the deathbed 297 the start for the china cup 297 end of the chinese-japanese war 298 the chinese exclusion act 299 the great republican circus (opper) 300 to the rescue 301 a pilgrim's progress 302 general boulanger 303 the hague peace conference 303 a fixture 304 group of modern french caricaturists 305 the anglo-french war barometer 307 rip van winkle awakes 310 they're off 311 where am i at? (gillam) 312 the political columbus (gillam) 314 cleveland's map of the united states (gillam) 315 return of the southern flags (gillam) 317 the champion masher (gillam) 319 the harrison platform (keppler) 320 the chilian affair 322 a political tam o'shanter (gillam) 324 don quixote bryan and the windmill (victor gillam) 325 outing of the anarchists 326 to the death 327 the great weyler ape 328 we are the people 329 be careful! it's loaded (victor gillam) 331 the safety valve 333 the latest war bulletin (hamilton) 334 spanish cartoons of the spanish-american war 335 the spanish brute (hamilton) 337 spanish cartoons of the spanish-american war 339 the rhodes colossus (sambourne) 342 the situation in south africa (gillam) 343 bloody cartography 344 lady macbeth 345 the flying dutchman 346 oom paul's favorite pastime 347 up against the breastworks 348 the napoleon of south africa 349 fire! 350 the last phase of the dreyfus case 350 toward freedom 351 the french general's staff 352 between scylla and charybdis 353 devil's island 354 c. g. bush 356 willie and his papa (opper) 357 homer davenport 359 davenport's conception of the trusts 361 history of the nineteenth century in caricature part i _the napoleonic era_ chapter i the beginning of political caricature while the impulse to satirize public men in picture is probably as old as satiric verse, if not older, the political cartoon, as an effective agent in molding public opinion, is essentially a product of modern conditions and methods. as with the campaign song, its success depends upon its timeliness, upon the ability to seize upon a critical moment, a burning question of the hour, and anticipate the outcome while public excitement is still at a white heat. but unlike satiric verse, it is dependent upon ink and paper. it cannot be transmitted orally. the doggerel verses of the roman legions passed from camp to camp with the mysterious swiftness of an epidemic, and found their way even into the sober history of suetonius. the topical songs and parodies of the middle ages migrated from town to town with the strolling minstrels, as readily as did the cycles of heroic poetry. but with caricature the case was very different. it may be that the man of the stone age, whom mr. opper has lately utilized so cleverly in a series of caricatures, was the first to draw rude and distorted likenesses of some unpopular chieftain, just as the roman soldier of 79 a. d. scratched on the wall of his barracks in pompeii an unflattering portrait of some martinet centurion which the ashes of vesuvius have preserved until to-day. it is certain that the greeks and romans appreciated the power of ridicule latent in satiric pictures; but until the era of the printing press, the caricaturist was as one crying in a wilderness. and it is only with the modern co-operation of printing and photography that caricature has come into its full inheritance. the best and most telling cartoons are those which do not merely reflect current public opinion, but guide it. in looking back over a century of caricature, we are apt to overlook this distinction. a cartoon which cleverly illustrates some important historical event, and throws light upon the contemporary attitude of the public, is equally interesting to-day, whether it anticipated the event or was published a month afterward. but in order to influence public opinion, caricature must contain a certain element of prophecy. it must suggest a danger or point an interrogation. as an example, we may compare two famous cartoons by the english artist gillray, "a connoisseur examining a cooper" and the "king of brobdingnag and gulliver." in the latter, george iii., in the guise of a giant, is curiously examining through his magnifying glass a lilliputian napoleon. there is no element of prophecy about the cartoon. it simply reflects the contemptuous attitude of the time toward napoleon, and underestimates the danger. the other cartoon, which appeared several years earlier, shows the king anxiously examining the features of cooper's well-known miniature of cromwell, the great overthrower of kings. public sentiment at that time suggested the imminence of another revolution, and the cartoon suggests a momentous question: "will the fate of charles i. be repeated?" in the light of history, the gulliver cartoon is to-day undoubtedly the more interesting, but at the time of its appearance it could not have produced anything approaching the sensation of that of "a connoisseur." [illustration: gillray's conception of the french invasion of england.] the necessity of getting a caricature swiftly before the public has always been felt, and has given rise to some curious devices and makeshifts. in the example which we have noted as having come down from roman times, a patriotic citizen of pompeii could find no better medium for giving his cartoon of an important local event to the world than by scratching it upon the wall of his dwelling-house after the fashion of the modern advertisement. there was a time in the seventeenth century when packs of political playing-cards enjoyed an extended vogue. the fashion of printing cartoons upon ladies' fans and other articles of similarly intimate character was a transitory fad in england a century ago. mr. ackermann, a famous printer of his generation, and publisher of the greater part of rowlandson's cartoons, adopted as an expedient for spreading political news a small balloon with an attached mechanism, which, when liberated, would drop news bulletins at intervals as it passed over field and village. in this country many people of the older generation will still remember the widespread popularity of the patriotic caricature-envelopes that were circulated during the civil war. to-day we are so used to the daily newspaper cartoon that we do not stop to think how seriously handicapped the cartoonists of a century ago found themselves. the more important cartoons of gillray and rowlandson appeared either in monthly periodicals, such as the _westminster magazine_ and the _oxford magazine_, or in separate sheets that sold at the prohibitive price of several shillings. in times of great public excitement, as during the later years of the napoleonic wars, such cartoons were bought up greedily, the city vying with the aristocratic west end in their patriotic demand for them. but such times were exceptional, and the older caricaturists were obliged to let pass many interesting crises because the situations would have become already stale before the day of publication of the monthly magazines came round. with the advent of the illustrated weeklies the situation was improved, but it is only in recent times that the ideal condition has been reached, when the cabled news of yesterday is interpreted in the cartoon of to-day. [illustration: nelson at the battle of the nile.] there is another and less specific reason why caricature had to await the advent of printing and the wider dissemination of knowledge which resulted. the successful political cartoon presupposes a certain average degree of intelligence in a nation, an awakened civic conscience, a sense of responsibility for the nation's welfare. the cleverest cartoonist would waste his time appealing to a nation of feudal vassals; he could not expect to influence a people to whom the ballot box was closed. caricature flourishes best in an atmosphere of democracy; there is an eternal incompatibility between its audacious irreverence and the doctrine of the divine right of kings. [illustration: bonaparte 48 hours after landing.] and yet the best type of caricature should not require a high degree of intelligence. many clever cartoonists over-reach themselves by an excess of cleverness, appealing at best to a limited audience. of this type are the cartoons whose point lies in parodying some famous painting or a masterpiece of literature, which, as a result, necessarily remains caviare to the general. there is a type of portrait caricature so cultured and subtle that it often produces likenesses truer to the man we know in real life than a photograph would be. a good example of this type is the familiar work of william nicholson, whose portrait of the late queen of england is said to have been recognized by her as one of the most characteristic pictures she had ever had taken. what appeals to the public, however, is a coarser type, a gross exaggeration of prominent features, a willful distortion, resulting in ridicule or glorification. oftentimes the caricature degenerates into a mere symbol. we have outgrown the puerility of the pictorial pun which flourished in england at the close of the seventeenth century, when cartoonists of gillray's rank were content to represent lord bute as a pair of boots, lord north as boreas, the north wind, and the elder fox with the head and tail of the animal suggested by his name. yet personification of one kind and another, and notably the personification of the nations in the shape of john bull and uncle sam and the russian bear, forms the very alphabet of political caricature of the present day. some of the most memorable series that have ever appeared were founded upon a chance resemblance of the subject of them to some natural object. notable instances are daumier's famous series of louis philippe represented as a pear, and nast's equally clever, but more local, caricatures of tweed as a money-bag. it would be interesting, if the material were accessible, to trace the development of the different personifications of england, france, and russia, and the rest, from their first appearance in caricature, but unfortunately their earlier development cannot be fully traced. the underlying idea of representing the different nations as individuals, and depicting the great international crises in a series of allegories or parables or animal stories--a sort of pictorial æsop's fables--dates back to the very beginning of caricature. in one of the earliest cartoons that have been preserved, england, france, and a number of minor principalities which have since disappeared from the map of europe, are represented as playing a game of cards with some disputed island possessions as the stakes. in this case the several nations are indicated merely by heraldic emblems. the conception of john bull was not to be evolved until a couple of centuries later. this cartoon, like the others of that time, originated in france under louis xii. the further development of the art was decisively checked under the despotic reign of louis xiv., and the few caricaturists of that time who had the courage to use their pencil against the king were driven to the expedient of publishing their works in holland. [illustration: john bull taking a luncheon.] an impressive illustration of the advantage which the satirical poet has over the cartoonist lies in the fact that some of the cleverest political satire ever written, as well as the best examples of the application of the animal fable to politics, were produced in france at this very time in the fables of la fontaine. [illustration: the french consular triumvirate.] chapter ii hogarth and his times from holland caricature migrated to great britain in the closing years of the seventeenth century--a natural result of the attention which dutch cartoonists had bestowed upon the revolution of 1688--and there it found a fertile and congenial soil. the english had not had time to forget that they had once put the divine right of kings to the test of the executioner's block, and what little reverence still survived was not likely to afford protection for a race of imported monarchs. moreover, as it happened, the development of english caricature was destined to be guided by the giant genius of two men, hogarth and gillray; and however far apart these two men were in their moral and artistic standards, they had one thing in common, a perennial scorn for the house of hanover. hogarth's contemptuous satire of george ii. was more than echoed in gillray's merciless attacks upon george iii. the well-known cartoons of "farmer george," and "george the button-maker," were but two of the countless ways in which he avenged himself upon the dull-witted king who had once acknowledged that he could not see the point of gillray's caricatures. although hogarth antedates the period covered by the present articles by fully half a century, he is much too commanding a figure in the history of comic art to be summarily dismissed. the year 1720 marks the era of the so-called "bubble mania," the era of unprecedented inflation, of the south sea company in london, and the equally notorious mississippi schemes of john law in france. popular excitement found vent in a veritable deluge of cartoons, many of which originated in amsterdam and were reprinted in london, often with the addition of explanatory satiric verses in english. in one, fortune is represented riding in a car driven by folly, and drawn by personifications of the different companies responsible for the disastrous epidemic of speculation: the mississippi, limping along on a wooden leg; the south sea, with its foot in splints, etc. in another, we have an imaginary map of the southern seas, representing "the very famous island of madhead, situated in share sea, and inhabited by all kinds of people, to which is given the general name of shareholders." john law came in for a major share of the caricaturist's attention. in one picture he is represented as assisting atlas to bear up immense globes of wind; in another, he is a "wind-monopolist," declaring, "the wind is my treasure, cushion, and foundation. master of the wind, i am master of life, and my wind monopoly becomes straightway the object of idolatry." the _windy_ character of the share-business is the dominant note in the cartoons of the period. bubbles, windmills, flying kites, play a prominent part in the detail with which the background of the typical dutch caricature was always crowded. these cartoons, displayed conspicuously in london shop windows, were not only seen by hogarth, but influenced him vitally. his earliest known essay in political caricature is an adaptation of one of these dutch prints, representing the wheel of fortune, bearing the luckless and infatuated speculators high aloft. his latest work still shows the influence of holland in the endless wealth of minute detail, the painstaking elaboration of his backgrounds, in which the most patient examination is ever finding something new. with hogarth, the overcharged method of the dutch school became a medium for irrepressible genius. at the hands of his followers and imitators, it became a source of obscurity and confusion. [illustration: "the capture of the danish ships."] while hogarth is rightly recognized as the father of english caricature, it must be remembered that his best work was done on the social rather than on the political side. even his most famous political series, that of "the elections," is broadly generalized. it is not in any sense campaign literature, but an exposition of contemporary manners. and this was always hogarth's aim. he was by instinct a realist, endowed with a keen sense of humor--a quality in which many a modern realist is deficient. he satirized life as he saw it, the good and the bad together, with a frankness which at times was somewhat brutal, like the frankness of fielding and of smollett the frankness of the age they lived in. it was essentially an outspoken age, robust and rather gross; a red-blooded age, nurtured on english beef and beer; a jovial age that shook its sides over many a broad jest, and saw no shame in open allusion to the obvious and elemental facts of physical life. judged by the standards of his day, there is little offense in hogarth's work; even when measured by our own, he is not deliberately licentious. on the contrary, he set an example of moderation which his successors would have done well to imitate. he realized, as the later caricaturists of his century did not, that the great strength of pictorial satire lies in ridicule rather than in invective; that the subtlest irony often lies in a close adherence to truth, where riotous and unrestrained exaggeration defeats its own end. just as in the case of "joseph andrews," fielding's creative instinct got the upper hand of the parodist, so in much of hogarth's work one feels that the caricaturist is forced to yield place to the realistic artist, the student of human life, carried away by the interest of the story he has to tell. his chief gift to caricature is his unprecedented development of the narrative quality in pictorial art. he pointed a road along which his imitators could follow him only at a distance. [illustration: "bonaparte and his english friends--the broad bottom administration."] with the second half of the eighteenth century there began an era of great license in the political press, an era of bitter vituperation and vile personal abuse. hogarth was one of the chief sufferers. after holding aloof from partisan politics for nearly half a century, he published, in 1762, his well-known cartoon attacking the ex-minister, pitt. all europe is represented in flames, which are spreading to great britain in spite of the efforts of lord bute, aided by his highlanders, to extinguish them. pitt is blowing upon the flames, which are being fed by the duke of newcastle from a barrow full of _monitors_ and _north britons_, two scurrilous papers of the day. the bitterness with which hogarth was attacked in retaliation and the persistence of his persecutors resulted, as was generally believed at the time, in a broken heart and his death in 1764. an amazing increase in the number of caricatures followed the entry of lord bute's ministry into power. they were distinguished chiefly by their poor execution and gross indecency. as early as 1762, the _gentleman's magazine_, itself none too immaculate, complains that "many of the representations that have lately appeared in the shops are not only reproachful to the government, but offensive to common-sense; they discover a tendency to inflame, without a spark of fire to light their own combustion." the state of society in england was at this time notoriously immoral and licentious. it was a period of hard living and hard drinking. the well-known habits of such public figures as sheridan and fox are eminent examples. the spirit of gambling had become a mania, and women had caught the contagion as well as men. nowhere was the profligacy of the times more clearly shown than in the looseness of public social functions, such as the notorious masquerade balls, which a contemporary journal, the _westminster magazine_, seriously decried as "subversive of virtue and every noble and domestic point of honor." the low standards of morals and want of delicacy are revealed in the extravagance of women's dress, the looseness of their speech. it was an age when women of rank, such as lady buckingham and lady archer, were publicly threatened by an eminent judge with exposure on the pillory for having systematically enticed young men and robbed them at their faro tables, and afterward found themselves exposed in the pillory of popular opinion in scurrilous cartoons from shop windows all over london. [illustration: pacific overtures.] chapter iii james gillray at a time when cheap abuse took the place of technical skill, and vulgarity passed for wit, a man of unlimited audacity, who was also a consummate master of his pencil, easily took precedence. such a man was james gillray, unquestionably the leading cartoonist of the reign of george iii. yet of the many who are to-day familiar with the name of gillray and the important part he played in influencing public opinion during the struggle with napoleon, very few have an understanding of the dominant qualities of his work. a large part of it, and probably the most representative part, is characterized by a foulness and an obscenity which the present generation cannot countenance. there is a whole series of cartoons bearing his name which it would not only be absolutely out of the question to reproduce, but the very nature of which can be indicated only in the most guarded manner. imagine the works of rabelais shamelessly illustrated by a master hand! try to conceive of the nature of the pictures which panurge chalked up on the walls of old paris. it was not merely the fault of the times, as in the case of hogarth. public taste was sufficiently depraved already; but gillray deliberately prostituted his genius to the level of a procurer, to debauch it further. from first to last his drawings impress one as emanating from a mind not only unclean, but unbalanced as well--a mind over which there hung, even at the beginning, the furtive shadow of that madness which at last overtook and blighted him. there is but one of the hallmarks of great caricature in the work of gillray, and that is the lasting impression which they make. they refuse to be forgotten; they remain imprinted on the brain, like the obsession of a nightmare. while in one sense they stand as a pitiless indictment of the generation that tolerated them, they are not a reflection of the life that gillray saw, except in the sense that their physical deformity symbolizes the moral foulness of the age. grace and charm and physical beauty, which hogarth could use effectively, are unknown quantities to gillray. there is an element of monstrosity about all his figures, distorted and repellent. foul, bloated faces; twisted, swollen limbs; unshapely figures whose protuberant flesh suggests a tumefied and fungoid growth--such is the brood begotten by gillray's pencil, like the malignant spawn of some forgotten circle of the lower inferno. [illustration: "the great coronation procession of napoleon."] it would be idle to dispute the far-reaching power of gillray's genius, perverted though it was. throughout the napoleonic wars, caricature and the name of gillray are convertible terms; for, even after he was forced to lay down his pencil, his brilliant contemporaries and successors, rowlandson and cruikshank, found themselves unable to throw off the fetters of his influence. no history of napoleon is quite complete which fails to recognize gillray as a potent factor in crystallizing public opinion in england. his long series of cartoons aimed at "little boney" are the culminating work of his life. their power lay, not in intellectual subtlety or brilliant scintillation of wit, but in the bitterness of their invective, the appeal they make to elemental passions. they spoke a language which the roughest of london mobs could understand--the language of the gutter. they were, many of them, masterpieces of pictorial billingsgate. [illustration: "napoleon and pitt dividing the world between them."] there is rancor, there is venom, there is the inevitable inheritance of the warfare of centuries, in these caricatures of gillray, but above all there is fear--fear of napoleon, of his genius, of his star. it has been very easy for englishmen of later days to say that the french never could have crossed the channel, that there was never any reason for disquiet; it was another matter in the days when troops were actually massing by thousands on the hills behind boulogne. you can find this fear voiced everywhere in gillray, in the discordance between the drawings and the text. john bull is the ox, bonaparte the contemptible frog; but it is usually the ox who is bellowing out defiance, daring the other to "come on," flinging down insult at the diminutive foe. "let 'em come, damme!" shouts the bold briton in the pictures of the time. "damme! where are the french bugaboos? single-handed i'll beat forty of 'em, damme!" every means was used to rouse the spirit of the english nation, and to stimulate hatred of the french and their leader. in one picture, boney and his family are in rags, and are gnawing raw bones in a rude corsican hut; in another we find him with a hookah and turban, having adopted the mahometan religion; in a third we see him murdering the sick at joppa. in the caricatures of gillray, napoleon is always a monster, a fiend in human shape, craven and murderous; but when dealing with the question of this fiend's power for evil, gillray made no attempt at consistency. this ogre, who through one series of pictures was represented as kicked about from boot to boot, kicked by the spaniards, the turks, the austrians, the prussians, the russians, in another is depicted as being very dangerous indeed. a curious example of this inconsistency will be found in placing side by side the two cartoons considered by many to be gillray's best: "the king of brobdingnag and gulliver," already referred to, and "tiddy-doll, the great french gingerbread maker, drawing out a new batch of kings." the "pernicious, little, odious reptile" whom george the third is holding so contemptuously in the hollow of his hand, in the first caricature, is in the second concededly of european importance. [illustration: "armed heroes."] [illustration: "the handwriting on the wall."] chapter iv bonaparte as first consul for the first decade of the nineteenth century there was but one important source of caricature, and one all-important subject--england and bonaparte. america at this time counted for little in international politics. the revolutionary period closed definitely with the death of washington, the one figure in our national politics who stood for something definite in the eyes of europe. our incipient naval war with france, which for a moment threatened to assign us a part in the general struggle of the powers, was amicably concluded before the close of the eighteenth century. throughout the jeffersonian period, national and local satire and burlesque flourished, atoning in quantity for what it lacked in wit and artistic skill. mr. parton, in his "caricature and other comic art," finds but one cartoon which he thinks it worth while to cite--jefferson kneeling before a pillar labeled "altar of gallic despotism," upon which are paine's "age of reason," and the works of rousseau, voltaire, and helvetius, with the demon of the french revolution crouching behind it, and the american eagle soaring to the sky bearing away the constitution and the independence of the united states, and he adds: "pictures of that nature, of great size, crowded with objects, emblems, and sentences--an elaborate blending of burlesque, allegory, and enigma--were so much valued by that generation that some of them were engraved upon copper." [illustration: "the double-faced napoleon." _from the collection of john leonard dudley, jr._] france, on the contrary, the central stage of the great drama of nations, might at this time have produced a school of caricaturists worthy of their opportunity--a school that would have offset with its gallic wit the heavier school of british invective, and might have furnished napoleon with a strong weapon against his most persistent enemies, had he not, with questionable wisdom, sternly repressed pictorial satire of a political nature. as the century opens, the drama of the ensuing fourteen years becomes clearly defined; the prologue has been played; napoleon's ambition in the east has been checked, first by the battle of the nile, and then definitely at aboukir. henceforth he is to limit his schemes of conquest to europe, and john bull is the only national figure who seems likely to attempt to check him. the battle of the nile was commemorated by gillray, who depicted nelson's victory in a cartoon entitled "extirpation of the plagues of egypt, destruction of the revolutionary crocodiles, or the british hero cleansing the mouth of the nile." here nelson is shown dispersing the french fleet treated as crocodiles. he has destroyed numbers with his cudgel of british oak; he is beating down others; a whole bevy, with hooks through their noses, are attached by strings to the iron hook which replaced his lost forearm. in the distance a crocodile is bursting and casting fire and ruin on all sides. this is an allusion to the destruction of the _orient_, the flagship of the republican admiral, the heroic brueys, who declined to quit his post when literally cut to pieces. another cartoon by gillray which belongs to this period is "the french consular triumvirate settling the new constitution." it introduces the figures of napoleon and his fellow-consuls, cambacérès and lebrun, who replaced the very authors of the new instrument, sièyes and ducos, quietly deposed by napoleon within the year. the second and third consuls are provided with blank sheets of paper, for mere form--they have only to bite their pens. the corsican is compiling a constitution in accordance with his own views. a band of imps is beneath the table, forging new chains for france and for europe. [illustration: "the two kings of terror." _after a cartoon by rowlandson_.] in england, the addington ministry, which in 1801 replaced that of william pitt, and are represented in caricature as "lilliputian substitutes" lost in the depths of mr. pitt's jack-boots, set out as a peace ministry and entered into the negotiations with napoleon which, in the following march, resulted in the peace of amiens. gillray anticipated this peace with several alarmist cartoons: "preliminaries of peace," representing john bull being led by the nose across the channel over a rotten plank, while britannia's shield and several valuable possessions have been cast aside into the water; and "britannia's death warrant," in which britannia is seen being dragged away to the guillotine by the corsican marauder. the peace at first gave genuine satisfaction in england, but toward the end of 1802 there were growing signs of popular discontent, which gillray voiced in "the nursery, with britannia reposing in peace." britannia is here portrayed as an overgrown baby in her cradle and fed upon french principles by addington, lord hawkesbury, and fox. still more famous was his next cartoon, "the first kiss this ten years; or, the meeting of britannia and citizen francois." britannia, grown enormously stout, her shield and spear idly reposing against the wall, is blushing deeply at his warm embrace and ardent expressions of joy: "madame, permit me to pay my profound esteem to your engaging person, and to seal on your divine lips my everlasting attachment!!!" she replies: "monsieur, you are truly a well-bred gentleman; and though you make me blush, yet you kiss so delicately that i cannot refuse you, though i was sure you would deceive me again." in the background the portraits of king george and bonaparte scowl fiercely at each other upon the wall. this is said to be one of the very few caricatures which napoleon himself heartily enjoyed. from now on, the cartoons take on a more caustic tone. britannia is being robbed of her cherished possessions, even malta being on the point of being wrested from her; while the bugaboo of an invading army looms large upon the horizon. in one picture britannia, unexpectedly attacked by napoleon's fleet, is awakening from a trance of fancied peace, and praying that her "angels and ministers of _dis_grace defend her!" in another, john bull, having waded across the water, is taunting little boney, whose head just shows above the wall of his fortress: if you mean to invade us, why make such a rout? i say, little boney, why don't you come out? yes, d---you, why don't you come out? in his cartoon called "promised horrors of the french invasion; or, forcible reasons for negotiating a regicide peace," gillray painted the imaginary landing of the french in england. the ferocious legions are pouring from st. james's palace, which is in flames, and they are marching past the clubs. the practice of patronizing democracy in the countries they had conquered has been carried out by handing over the tories, the constitution, and the crown to the foxite reformers and the whig party. the chief hostility of the french troops is directed against the aristocratic clubs. an indiscriminate massacre of the members of white's is proceeding in the doorways, on the balconies, and wherever the republican levies have penetrated. the royal princes are stabbed and thrown into the street. a rivulet of blood is running. in the center of the picture is a tree of liberty. to this tree pitt is bound, while fox is lashing him. [illustration: the king of brobdingnag and gulliver. "you may have seen gillray's famous print of him--in the old wig, in the stout, old, hideous windsor uniform--as the king of brobdingnag, peering at a little gulliver, whom he holds up in his hand, whilst in the other he has an opera-glass, through which he surveys the pygmy? our fathers chose to set up george as the type of a great king; and the little gulliver was the great napoleon."--_thackeray's_ "_four georges_".] the increasing venom of the english cartoons, and their frequent coarse personalities, caused no little uneasiness to bonaparte, until they culminated in a famous cartoon by gillray, "the handwriting on the wall," a broad satire on belshazzar's feast, which was published august 24, 1803. the first consul, his wife josephine, and the members of the court are seated at table, consuming the good things of old england. the palace of st. james, transfixed upon napoleon's fork; the tower of london, which one of the convives is swallowing whole; the head of king george on a platter inscribed: "oh, de beef of old england!" a hand above holds out the scales of justice, in which the legitimate crown of france weighs down the red cap with its attached chain--despotism misnamed liberty. chapter v the emperor at his apogee for the next year parliamentary strife at home, fostered by pitt's quarrel with the addington ministry on the one hand and his opposition to fox on the other, kept the cartoonists busy. they found time, however, to celebrate the coronation of napoleon as emperor in december, 1804. gillray anticipated the event with a cartoon entitled "the genius of france nursing her darling," in which the genius, depicted as a lady with blood-stained garments and a reeking spear, tosses an infant napoleon, armed with a scepter, and vainly tries to check his cries with a rattle surmounted by a crown. rowlandson, gillray's clever and more artistic contemporary, commemorated the event itself in a clever cartoon, "the death of madame république," published december 14, 1804. the moribund république lies stretched upon her death-bed, her nightcap adorned with the tricolored cockade. the abbé sièyes, in the rôle of doctor, is exhibiting the emperor, portrayed as a newborn infant in long clothes. john bull, spectacles on nose, is regarding the altered conditions with visible astonishment. "pray, mr. abbé sièyes, what was the cause of the poor lady's death? she seemed at one time in a tolerable thriving way." "she died in childbed, mr. bull, after giving birth to this little emperor!" [illustration: napoleon's burden. from a german cartoon of the period.] this was followed on the 1st of january by a large satirical print by gillray, of "the grand coronation procession," in which the feature that gave special offense was the group of three princesses, the princess borghese, the princess louise, and the princess joseph bonaparte, arrayed in garments of indecent scantiness, and heading the procession as the "three imperial graces." the english caricatures of this period relating to the new emperor and empress are as a rule not only libelous, but grossly coarse. at the same time, the political conditions of the times are cleverly hit off in "the plum pudding in danger; or, state epicures taking on petit souper," published february 26, 1805, which depicts the rival pretensions of napoleon and pitt. they are seated at opposite sides of the table, the only dish between them being the globe, served up on a shallow plate and resembling a plum pudding. napoleon's sword has sliced off the continent--france, holland, spain, italy, prussia--and his fork is dug spitefully into hanover, which was then an appanage of the british crown. pitt's trident is stuck in the ocean, and his carver is modestly dividing the globe down the middle. during the summer of 1805 the third coalition against france was completed, its chief factors being great britain, russia, and austria. a contemporary print entitled "tom thumb at bay" commemorates the new armament. napoleon, dropping crown and scepter in his flight, is evading the austrian eagle, the russian bear, and the westphalian pig, only to run at last pell-mell into the gaping jaws of the british lion. it is somewhat curious that the momentous events of the new war--the annihilation of the french fleet at trafalgar, the equally decisive french victory at austerlitz--were scarcely noticed in caricature, and a few exceptions have little merit. but in the following january, 1806, when napoleon had entered upon an epoch of king-making, with his kings of wurtemburg and bavaria, gillray produced one of his most famous prints. it was published the 23d of january (the day that pitt breathed his last), and was entitled "tiddy-doll, the great french gingerbread baker, drawing out a new batch of kings, his man, 'hopping talley,' mixing up the dough." the great gilt gingerbread baker is shown at work at his new french oven for imperial gingerbread. he is just drawing from the oven's mouth a fresh batch of kings. the fuel is shown in the form of cannon-balls. holland, switzerland, austria, italy, venice and spain are following the fate of the french republic. on top of the chest of drawers, labeled respectively "kings and queens," "crowns and scepters," "suns and moons" is arranged a gay parcel of little dough viceroys intended for the next batch. among them are the figures of fox, sheridan, derby, and others of the whig party in england. [illustration: the french gingerbread baker.] in the comprehensive and ill-assorted coalition ministry which was formed soon after pitt's death, the caricaturists found a congenial topic for their pencils. they ridiculed it unmercifully under the title "all the talents," and the "board bottomed" ministry. a composite picture by rowlandson shows the ministry as a spectacled ape in the wig of a learned justice, with episcopal mitre and catholic crozier. he wears a lawyer's coat and ragged breeches, with a shoe on one foot and a french jack-boot on the other. he is dancing on a funeral pyre of papers, the results of the administration, its endless negotiations with france, its sinecures and patronages, which are blazing away. the creature's foot is discharging a gun, which produces signal mischief in the rear and brings down two heavy folios, the magna charta and the coronation oath, upon its head. [illustration: "the devil and napoleon." _from an anonymous french caricature._] this ministry's futile negotiations for peace with france are frequently burlesqued. gillray published on april 5 "pacific overtures; or, a flight from st. cloud's 'over the water to charley,'" in which the negotiations are described as "a new dramatic _peace_, now rehearsing." in this cartoon king george has left the state box--where the play-book of "i know you all" still remains open--to approach nearer to little boney, who, elevated on the clouds, is directing attention to his proposed treaty. "terms of peace: acknowledge me as emperor; dismantle your fleet, reduce your armies; abandon malta and gibraltar; renounce all continental connection; your colonies i will take at a valuation; engage to pay to the great nation for seven years annually one million pounds; and place in my hands as hostages the princess charlotte of wales, with others of the late administration whom i shall name." king george replies: "very amusing terms, indeed, and might do vastly well with some of the new-made little gingerbread kings; but we are not in the habit of giving up either ships or commerce or colonies merely because little boney is in a pet to have them." this cartoon introduces among others talleyrand, o'conor, fox, lord ellenborough, the duke of bedford, lord moira, lord lauderdale, addington, lord henry petty, lord derby, and mrs. fitzherbert. shortly afterward, on july 21, 1806, rowlandson voices the current feeling of distrust of fox in "experiments at dover; or, master charley's magic lantern." fox is depicted at dover, training the rays of his magic lantern on the cliffs of calais. john bull, watching him, is not satisfied. "yes, yes, it be all very fine, if it be true; but i can't forget that d--d omnium last week.... i will tell thee what, charley, since thee hast become a great man, i think in my heart thee beest always conjuring." the cartoon entitled "westminster conscripts under the training act" appeared september 1, 1806. napoleon, the drill sergeant, is elevated on a pile of cannon-balls; he is giving his authoritative order to "ground arms." the invalided fox has been wheeled to the ground in his armchair; the prince of wales' plume appears on the back of his seat. other figures in the cartoon are lord lauderdale, lord grenville, lord howick, lord holland, lord robert spencer, lord ellenborough, the duke of clarence, lord moira, lord chancellor erskine, colonel hanger, and talleyrand. [illustration: the consultation. _from the collection of john leonard dudley, jr._] gillray has left a cartoon commemorating the arrival of the danish squadron, under the title of "british tars towing the danish fleet into harbor; the broad bottom leviathan trying to swamp billy's old boat; and the little corsican tottering on the clouds of ambition." this cartoon was issued october 1, 1807. lords liverpool and castlereagh are lustily rowing the _billy pitt_; canning, seated in the stern, is towing the captured fleet into sheerness, with the union jack flying over the forts. copenhagen, smoking from the recent bombardment, may be distinguished in the distance. in sheerness harbor the sign of "good old george" is hung out at john bull's tavern; john bull is seated at the door, a pot of porter in his hand, waving his hat and shouting: "rule britannia! britannia rules the waves!" that the expedition did not escape censure is shown by the figure of a three-headed porpoise which is savagely assailing the successful crew. this monster bears the heads of lord howick, shouting "detraction!" lord st. vincent tilled with "envy," and discharging a watery broadside; and lord grenville, who is raising his "opposition clamor" to confuse their course. chapter vi napoleon's waning power no period of the napoleonic wars gave better opportunity for satire than napoleon's disastrous occupation of spain and his invasion of portugal. the titles alone of the cartoons would fill a volume. the sanguine hopes of success cherished by the english government are expressed by gillray in a print published april 10, 1808. "delicious dreams! castles in the air! glorious prospects!" it depicts the ministers sunken in a drunken sleep and visited by glorious visions of britannia and her lion occupying a triumphal car formed from the hull of a british ship, drawn by an irish bull and led by an english tar. she is dragging captive to the tower little boney and the russian bear, both loaded with chains. [illustration: "the corsican top in full flight." _from a colored stamp of the period._] the dangers which threatened napoleon at this period were shown by gillray in one of the most striking of all his cartoons, the "valley of the shadow of death," which was issued september 24, 1808. the valley is the valley of bunyan's allegory. the emperor is proceeding timorously down a treacherous path, bounded on either side by the waters of styx and hemmed in by a circle of flame. from every side horrors are springing up to assail him. the british lion, raging and furious, is springing at his throat. the portuguese wolf has broken his chain. king death, mounted on a mule of "true royal spanish breed," has cleared at a bound the body of the ex-king joseph, which has been thrown into the "ditch of styx." death is poising his spear with fatal aim, warningly holding up at the same time his hour-glass with the sand exhausted; flames follow in his course. from the smoke rise the figures of junot and dupont, the beaten generals. the papal tiara is descending as a "roman meteor," charged with lightnings to blast the corsican. the "turkish new moon" is seen rising in blood. the "spirit of charles xii." rises from the flames to avenge the wrongs of sweden. the "imperial german eagle" is emerging from a cloud; the prussian bird appears as a scarecrow, making desperate efforts to fly and screaming revenge. from the "lethean ditch" the "american rattlesnake" is thrusting forth a poisoned tongue. the "dutch frogs" are spitting out their spite; and the rhenish confederation is personified as a herd of starved "rats," ready to feast on the corsican. the great "russian bear," the only ally napoleon has secured, is shaking his chain and growling--a formidable enemy in the rear. gillray's caricature entitled "john bull taking a luncheon; or, british cooks cramming old grumble-gizzard with bonne chère," shows the strange-appearing john of the caricature of that day sitting at a table, overwhelmed by the zealous attentions of his cooks, foremost among whom is the hero of the nile, who is offering him a "fricassée à la nelson," a large dish of battered french ships of the line. john is swallowing a frigate at a mouthful. through the window we see fox and sheridan, representative of the broad bottom administration, running away in dismay at john bull's voracity. [illustration: napoleon in the valley of the shadow of death. _from james gillray's caricature._] as gillray retires from the field several other clever artists stand ready to take his place, and chief among them rowlandson. the latter had a distinct advantage over gillray in his superior artistic training. he was educated in the french schools, where he gave especial attention to studies from the nude. in the opinion of such capable judges as reynolds, west, and lawrence, his gifts might have won him a high place among english artists, if he had not turned, through sheer perversity, to satire and burlesque. rowlandson's napoleonic cartoons began in july, 1808. these initial efforts are neither especially characteristic nor especially clever, but they certainly were duly appreciated by the public. joseph grego, in his interesting and comprehensive work upon rowlandson, says of them: [illustration: the spider's web. from a german caricature commemorating german success in 1814.] "it is certain that the caricaturist's travesties of the little emperor, his burlesques of his great actions and grandiose declarations, his figurative displays of the mean origin of the imperial family, with the cowardice and depravity of its members, won popular applause ... and when disasters began to cloud the career of napoleon, as army after army melted away, ... the artist bent his skill to interpret the delight of the public. the city competed with the west end in buying every caricature, in loyal contest to prove their national enmity for bonaparte. in too many cases, the incentive was to gratify the hatred of the corsican rather than any remarkable merit that could be discovered in the caricatures. very few of these mock-heroic sallies imprint themselves upon the recollection by sheer force of their own brilliancy, as was the case with gillray, and frequently with john tenniel. rowlandson and cruikshank are risible, but not inspired." [illustration: "the partition of the map." _from the collection of john leonard dudley, jr._] on july 8 rowlandson began his series with "the corsican tiger at bay." napoleon is depicted as a savage tiger, rending four "royal greyhounds," quite at his mercy. but a fresh pack appears in the background and prepares for a fierce charge. the russian bear and austrian eagle are securely bound with heavy fetters, but the eagle is asking: "now, brother bruin, is it time to break our fetters?" [illustration: "the chief of the grand army in a sad plight." _from a french cartoon of the period._] "the beast as described in the revelations" followed within two weeks. the beast, of corsican origin, is represented with seven heads, and the names of austria, naples, holland, denmark, prussia, and russia are inscribed on their respective crowns. napoleon's head, severed from the trunk, vomits forth flames. in the distance, cities are blazing, showing the destruction wrought by the beast. spain is represented as the champion who alone dares to stand against the monster. "the political butcher" bears date september 12 of the same year. in this print the spanish don, in the garb of a butcher, is cutting up bonaparte for the benefit of his neighbors. the body of the late corsican lies before him and is being cut up with professional zeal. the don holds up his enemy's heart and calls upon the other powers to take their share. the double-headed eagle of austria is swooping upon napoleon's head: "i have long wished to strike my talons into that diabolical head-piece"; the british bulldog has been enjoying portions of the joints, and thinks that he would "like to have the picking of that head." the russian bear is luxuriously licking napoleon's boots, and remarks, "this licking is giving me a mortal inclination to pick a bone." the final failure of the spanish campaign is signalized, september 20, in a cartoon labeled "napoleon the little in a rage with his great french eagle." the emperor, with drawn sword and bristling with rage, threatens the french imperial eagle, larger than himself. the bird's head and one leg are tied up--the result of damage inflicted by the spaniards. "confusion and destruction!" thunders napoleon, "what is this i see? did i not command you not to return until you had spread your wing of victory over the whole of spain?" "aye, it's fine talking," rejoins the bird, "but if you had been there, you would not much have liked it. the spanish cormorants pursued me in such a manner that they set me molting in a terrible way. i wonder that i have not lost my feathers. besides, it got so hot i could not bear it any longer." [illustration: "the signature symbol of abdication." _from a caricature in color by george cruikshank._] in august, 1809, rowlandson published "the rising sun." bonaparte is surrounded by the continental powers, and is busy rocking to sleep in a cradle the russian bear, securely muzzled with french promises. but the dawn of a new era is breaking: the sun of spain and portugal is rising with threatening import. the emperor is disturbed by the new light: "this rising sun has set me upon thorns." the prussian eagle is trussed; denmark is snuffed out. but austria has once more taken heart: "tyrant, i defy thee and thy cursed crew!" the victories of the peninsular war, and later of the disastrous russian campaign, called forth an ever-increasing number of cartoons, which showed little mercy or consideration to a fallen foe. a sample of the titles of this period show the general tendency; he is the "corsican bloodhound," the "carcass-butcher"; he is a jail-bird doing the "rogues' march to the island of elba." an analysis of a few of the more striking cartoons will serve to close the survey of the napoleonic period. "death and bonaparte" is a grewsome cartoon by rowlandson, dated january 1, 1814. napoleon is seated on a drum with his head clasped between his hands, staring into the face of a skeleton death, who is watching the baffled general, face to face. death mockingly parodies napoleon's attitude. a broken eagle, the imperial standard, lies at his bony feet. in the background the russian, prussian, austrian, and other allied armies are streaming past in unbroken ranks, routing the dismayed legions of france. "bloody boney, the corsican butcher, left off trade and retiring to scarecrow island" is the title of still another of rowlandson's characteristic cartoons. in it napoleon is represented as riding on a rough-coated donkey and wearing a fool's cap in place of a crown. his only provision is a bag of brown bread. his consort is riding on the same beast, which is being unmercifully flogged with a stick labeled "bâton maréchal." [illustration: "the oven of the allies." _from an anonymous french cartoon._] napoleon's escape from elba was commemorated by rowlandson in "the flight of bonaparte from hell bay." in it the foul fiend is amusing himself by letting his captive loose, to work fresh mischief in the world above. he has mounted the corsican upon a bubble and sends him careering upward back to earth, while hissing dragons pour forth furious blasts to waft the bubble onward. [illustration: "the new robinson crusoe." _from a german caricature._] "hell hounds rallying around the idol of france" is the title of still another of rowlandson's designs, which appeared in april, 1815. the head and bust of the emperor drawn on a colossal scale, a hangman's noose around his throat, is mounted on a vast pyramid of human heads, his decapitated victims. demons are flying through the air to place upon his brow a crown of blazing pitch, while a ring of other excited fiends, whose features represent maréchal ney, lefebre, davoust and others, with horns, hoofs, and tails, are dancing in triumph around the idol they have replaced. closely resembling this cartoon of rowlandson is the german cartoon, which is reproduced in these pages, showing a double-faced napoleon topping a monument built of skulls. rowlandson's "hell hounds rallying around the idol of france" was the last english cartoon directed against napoleon when he was at the head of france. two months later the emperor's power was finally broken at waterloo. [illustration: "napoleon caged by the allies." _from a french cartoon of the period._] part ii _from waterloo through the crimean war_ chapter vii after the downfall [illustration: "restitution: or, to each his share." _from a colored stamp of the period._] with the downfall of napoleon the gillray school of caricature came to an abrupt and very natural close. it was a school born of fear and nurtured upon rancor--a school that indulged freely in obscenity and sacrilege, and did not hesitate to stoop to kick the fallen hero, to heap insult and ignominy upon napoleon in his exile. only during a great world crisis, a death struggle of nations, could popular opinion have tolerated such wanton disregard for decency. and when the crisis was passed it came to an end like some malignant growth, strangled by its own virulence. the truth is that gillray and rowlandson led caricature into an _impasse_; they deliberately perverted its true function, which is, to advance an argument with the cogent force of a clever orator, to sum up a political issue in terms so simple that a child may read, and not merely to echo back the blatant rancor of the mob. in the hands of a master of the art it becomes an incisive weapon, like the blade with which the matador gives his _coup-de-grace_. gillray's conception of its office seems to have been that of the red rag to be flapped tauntingly in the face of john bull; and john bull obediently bellowed in response. it would be idle to deny that for the purpose of spurring on public opinion, the napoleonic cartoons exercised a potent influence. they kept popular excitement at fever heat; they added fuel to the general hatred. but when the crisis was passed, when the public pulse was beating normally once more, when virulent attacks upon a helpless exile had ceased to seem amusing, there really remained no material upon which caricature of the gillray type could exercise its offensive ingenuity. what seemed justifiable license when directed against the arch-enemy of european peace would have been insufferable when applied to british statesmen and to the milder problems of local political issues. another and quite practical reason helps to explain the dearth of political caricature in england for a full generation after the battle of waterloo, and that is the question of expense. a public which freely gave shillings and even pounds to see its hatred of "little boney" interpreted with gillray's vindictive malice hesitated to expend even pennies for a cartoon on the corn laws or the latest ministerial changes. in england, as well as on the continent, caricature as an effective factor in politics remained in abeyance until the advent of an essentially modern type of periodical, the comic weekly, of which _la caricature_, the london _punch_, the _fliegende blätter_, and in this country _puck_ and _judge_, are the most famous examples. the progress of lithography made such a periodical possible in france as early as 1830, when _la caricature_ was founded by the famous philipon; but the oppressive laws of censorship throughout europe prevented any wide development of this class of journalism until after the general political upheaval of 1848. [illustration: adjusting the balance of power after napoleon.] it would be idle, however, to deny that gillray exerted a lasting influence upon all future caricature. his license, his vulgarity, his repulsive perversion of the human face and form, have found no disciples in later generations; but his effective assemblage of many figures, the crowded significance of minor details, the dramatic unity of the whole conception which he inherited from hogarth, have been passed on down the line and still continue to influence the leading cartoonists of to-day in england, germany, and the united states, although to a much less degree in france. even at the time of napoleon's downfall the few cartoons which appeared in paris were far less extreme than their english models, while the german caricaturists, on the contrary, were extremely virulent, notably the berliner, schadow, who openly acknowledged his indebtedness to the englishman by signing himself the parisian gillray; and volz, author of the famous "true portrait of napoleon"--a portrait in which napoleon's face, upon closer inspection, is seen made up of a head of inextricably tangled dead bodies, his head surmounted by a bird of prey, his breast a map of europe overspread by a vast spider web, in which the different national capitals are entangled like so many luckless flies. had there been more liberty of the press, an interesting school of political cartoonists might have arisen at this time in germany. but they met with such scanty encouragement that little of real interest is to be gleaned from this source until after the advent of the berlin _kladderadatsch_ in 1848, and the _fliegende blätter_, but a short time earlier. [illustration: john bull making a new batch of ships to send to the lakes. this cartoon by william charles, a scotchman who was forced to leave great britain, and who came to the united states, and wielded his pencil against his renounced country, is in many ways an imitator of gillray's famous "tiddy do, the great french gingerbread-baker, making a new batch of kings." _from the collection of the new york public library._] [illustration: russia as mediator between the united states and great britain. _from the collection of the new york public library._] [illustration: the cossack bite. an american cartoon of the war of 1812.] [illustration: john bull and the alexandrians.] [illustration: john bull's troubles. a caricature of the war of 1812. _from the collection of the new york public library._] chapter viii the "poire" throughout the napoleonic period england practically had a monopoly in caricature. during the second period, down to the year 1848, france is the center of interest. prior to 1830, french political cartoons were neither numerous nor especially significant. indeed they present a simplicity of imagination rather amusing as compared with the complicated english caricatures. a hate of the jesuits, a mingling of liberalism, touched with bonapartism, and the war of newspapers furnished the theme. the two symbols constantly recurring are the _girouette_, or weather-cock, and the _éteignoir_, or extinguisher. many of the french statesmen who played a prominent part during the french empire and after the restoration changed their political creed with such surprising rapidity that it was difficult to keep track of their changes. they were accordingly symbolized by a number of weathercocks proportioned to the number of their political conversions, talleyrand leading the procession, with not less than seven to his credit. the _éteignoir_ was constantly used in satire directed against the priesthood, the most famous instance appearing in the _minerva_ in 1819. it took for the text a refrain from a song of beranger. in this cartoon the church is personified by the figure of the pope holding in one hand a sabre, and, in the other, a paper with the words bulls, crusades, sicilian vespers, st. bartholomew. beside the figure of the church, torch in hand, is the demon of discord. from the smoke of the torch of the demon various horrors are escaping. we read "the restoration of feudal rights," "feudal privileges," "division of families." monks are trying to snuff out the memory of fénelon, buffon, voltaire, rousseau, montaigne, and other philosophers and thinkers. for ten years the caricaturists played with this theme. a feeble forerunner of _la caricature_, entitled _le nain jaune_, depended largely for its wit upon the variations it could improvise upon the _girouette_ and upon the _éteignoir_. yet it would be a mistake to suppose that french art was quite destitute of humorists at the beginning of the century. m. armand dayot, in a monograph upon french caricature, mentions among others the names of isabey, boilly, and carle vernet as rivaling the english cartoonists in the ingenuity of their designs, and surpassing them in artistic finish and harmony of color. "but," he adds, "they were never able to go below the surface in their satire. it would be a mistake to enroll in the hirsute cohort of caricaturists these witty and charming artists, who were more concerned in depicting the pleasures of mundane life than in castigating its vices and irregularities." the 4th of november, 1830, is a momentous date in the history of french caricature. prior to that time, french cartoons, such as there were, were studiously, even painfully, impersonal. thackeray, in his delightful essay upon "caricatures and lithography," in the "paris sketch book," describes the conditions of this period with the following whimsical allegory: [illustration: the order of the extinguishers. _a typical french cartoon of the restoration._] "as for poor caricature and freedom of the press, they, like the rightful princess in a fairy tale, with the merry fantastic dwarf, her attendant, were entirely in the power of the giant who rules the land. the princess, the press, was so closely watched and guarded (with some little show, nevertheless, of respect for her rank) that she dared not utter a word of her own thoughts; and, as for poor caricature, he was gagged and put out of the way altogether." [illustration: proudhon.] [illustration: digging the grave.] on this famous 4th of november, however, there appeared the initial number of philipon's _la caricature_, which was destined to usher in a new era of comic art, and which proved the most efficacious weapon which the republicans found to use against louis philippe--a weapon as redoubtable as _la lanterne_ of henri rochefort became under the second empire. like several of his most famous collaborators, charles philipon was a meridional. he was born in lyons at the opening of the century. he studied art in the atelier of gros. he married into the family of an eminent publisher of prints, m. aubert, and was himself successively the editor of the three most famous comic papers that france has had, _la caricature_, _charivari_, and the _journal pour rire_. the first of these was a weekly paper. the _charivari_ appeared daily, and at first its cartoons were almost exclusively political. philipon had gathered around him a group of artists, men like daumier, gavarni, henry monnier, and traviès, whose names afterward became famous, and they united in a veritable crusade of merciless ridicule against the king, his family, and his supporters. their satire took the form of bitter personal attacks, and a very curious contest ensued between the government and the editorial staff of the _charivari_. as thackeray sums it up, it was a struggle between "half a dozen poor artists on the one side and his majesty louis philippe, his august family, and the numberless placemen and supporters of the monarchy on the other; it was something like thersites girding at ajax." time after time were philipon and his dauntless aids arrested. more than a dozen times they lost their cause before a jury, yet each defeat was equivalent to a victory, bringing them new sympathy, and each time they returned to the attack with cartoons which, if more covert in their meaning, were even more offensive. perhaps the most famous of all the cartoons which originated in philipon's fertile brain is that of the "pear," which did so much to turn the countenance of louis philippe to ridicule--a ridicule which did more than anything else to cause him to be driven from the french throne. the "pear" was reproduced in various forms in _la caricature_, and afterward in _le charivari_. by inferior artists the "pear" was chalked up on walls all over paris. the most politically important of the "poire" series was produced when philipon was obliged to appear before a jury to answer for the crime of provoking contempt against the king's person by giving such a ludicrous version of his face. in his own defense philipon took up a sheet of paper and drew a large burgundy pear, in the lower parts round and capacious, narrower near the stalk, and crowned with two or three careless leaves. "is there any treason in that?" he asked the jury. then he drew a second pear like the first, except that one or two lines were scrawled in the midst of it, which bore somehow an odd resemblance to the features of a celebrated personage; and, lastly, he produced the exact portrait of louis philippe; the well-known _toupet_, the ample whiskers--nothing was extenuated or set down maliciously. "gentlemen of the jury," said philipon, "can i help it if his majesty's face is like a pear?" thackeray, in giving an account of this amusing trial, makes the curious error of supposing that philipon's _naïve_ defense carried conviction with the jury. on the contrary, philipon was condemned and fined, and immediately took vengeance upon the judge and jury by arranging their portraits upon the front page of _charivari_ in the form of a "pear." in a hundred different ways his artists rang the changes upon the "pear," and each new attack was the forerunner of a new arrest and trial. one day _la caricature_ published a design representing a gigantic pear surmounting the pedestal in the place de la concorde, and bearing the legend, "_le monument expia-poire_." this regicidal pleasantry brought philipon once more into court. "the prosecution sees in this a provocation to murder!" cried the accused. "it would be at most a provocation to make marmalade." finally, after a picture of a monkey stealing a pear proved to be an indictable offense, the subject was abandoned as being altogether too expensive a luxury. [illustration: facsimile of the famous defense presented by philipon when on trial for libeling the king. "is it my fault, gentlemen of the jury, if his majesty's face looks like a pear?"] chapter ix the baiting of louis philippe [illustration: the pious monarch. caricature of charles x.] but although the "pear" was forced to disappear, philipon continued to harass the government, until louis philippe, who had gained his crown largely by his championship of the freedom of the press, was driven in desperation to sanction the famous september laws, which virtually strangled its liberty. yet, in spite of the obstacles thrown in their way, the work of philipon and of the remarkable corps of satirical geniuses which he gathered round him, forms a pictorial record in which the intimate history of france, from charles x.'s famous _coup d'état_ down to the revolution of 1848, may be read like an open book. the adversaries of the government of 1830 were of two kinds. one kind, of which admiral carrel was a type, resorted to passionate argument, to indignant eloquence. the other kind resorted to the methods of the fronde; they made war by pin-pricks, by bursts of laughter, with all the resources of french gayety and wit. in this method the leading spirit was philipon, who understood clearly the power that would result from the closest alliance between _la presse et l'image_. even before _la caricature_ was founded the features of the last of the bourbons became a familiar subject in cartoons. invariably the same features are emphasized; a tall, lank figure, frequently contorted like the "india-rubber man" of the dime museums; a narrow, vacuous countenance, a high, receding forehead, over which sparse locks of hair are straggling; a salient jaw, the lips drawn back in a mirthless grin, revealing huge, ungainly teeth, projecting like the incisors of a horse. in one memorable cartoon he is expending the full crushing power of these teeth upon the famous "charter" of 1830, but is finding it a nut quite too hard to crack. [illustration: charles x. in the rôle of the "great nutcracker." in this caricature charles x. is attempting to break with his teeth a billiard ball on which is written the word "charter." the cartoon is entitled "the great nutcracker of july 25th, or the impotent horse-jaw" (ganache)--a play upon words.] from the very beginning _la caricature_ assumed an attitude of hostile suspicion toward louis philippe, the pretended champion of the _bourgeoisie_, whose veneer of expedient republicanism never went deeper than to send his children to the public schools, and to exhibit himself parading the streets of paris, umbrella in hand. two cartoons which appeared in the early days of his reign, and are labeled respectively "_ne vous y frottez pas_" and "_il va bon train, le ministère!_" admirably illustrate the public lack of confidence. the first of these, an eloquent lithograph by daumier, represents a powerfully built and resolute young journeyman printer standing with hands clinched, ready to defend the liberty of the press. in the background are two groups. in the one charles x., already worsted in an encounter, lies prone upon the earth; in the other louis philippe, waving his ubiquitous umbrella, is with difficulty restrained from assuming the aggressive. the second of these cartoons is more sweeping in its indictment. it represents the sovereign and his ministers in their "chariot of state," one and all lashing the horses into a mad gallop toward a bottomless abyss. general soult, the minister of war, is flourishing and snapping a military flag, in place of a whip. at the back of the chariot a jesuit has succeeded in securing foothold upon the baggage, and is adding his voice to hasten the forward march, all symbolic of the violent momentum of the reactionary movement. [illustration: louis philippe at the funeral of lafayette. _"enfoncé lafayette!... attrapé, mon vieux!"_] [illustration: the ship of state in peril--its sailors know not to what saints to commend themselves.] [illustration: the people thrown into the pit held by the monsters of various taxes.] [illustration: "once more, madame, do you wish divorce, or do you not wish divorce? you are perfectly free to choose?"] it was not likely that the part which louis philippe played in the revolution of 1789, his share in the republican victories of jemappes and of valmy, would be forgotten by those who saw in him only a pseudo-republican, a "citizen king" in name only, and who seized eagerly upon the opportunity of mocking at his youthful espousal of republicanism. the names of these battles recur again and again in the caricature of the period, in the legends, in maps conspicuously hung upon the walls of the background. an anonymous cut represents the public gazing eagerly into a magic lantern, the old "poire" officiating as showman: "you have before you the conqueror of jemappes and of valmy. you see him surrounded by his nobles, his generals, and his family, all ready to die in his defense. see how the jolly rascals fight. they are not the ones to be driven in disgrace from their kingdom. oh, no!" of all the cartoons touching upon louis philippe's insincerity, probably the most famous is that of daumier commemorating the death of lafayette. the persistent popularity of this veteran statesman had steadily become more and more embarrassing to a government whose reactionary doctrines he repudiated, and whose political corruption he despised. "_enfoncé lafayette!... attrapé, mon vieux!_" is the legend inscribed beneath what is unquestionably one of the most extraordinary of all the caricatures of honoré daumier. it represents louis philippe watching the funeral cortège of lafayette, his hands raised to his face in the pretense of grief, but the face behind distorted into a hideous leer of gratification. m. arsène alexandre, in his remarkable work on daumier, describes this splendid drawing in the following terms: "under a grey sky, against the somber and broken background of a cemetery, rises on a little hillock the fat and black figure of an undertaker's man. below him on a winding road is proceeding a long funeral procession. it is the crowd that has thronged to the obsequies of the illustrious patriot. through the leafage of the weeping willows may be seen the white tombstones. the whole scene bears the mark of a profound sadness, in which the principal figure seems to join, if one is to judge by his sorrowful attitude and his clasped hands. but look closer. if this undertaker's man, with the features of louis philippe, is clasping his hands, it is simply to rub them together with joy; and through his fingers, half hiding his countenance, one may detect a sly grin." the obsequious attitude of the members of parliament came in for its share of satirical abuse. "this is not a chamber, it is a kennel," is the title of a spirited lithograph by grandville, representing the french statesmen as a pack of hounds fawning beneath the lash of their imperious keeper, casimir périer. another characteristic cartoon of grandville's represents the legislature as an "infernal laboratory for extracting the quintessence of politics"--a composition which, in its crowded detail, its grim and uncanny suggestiveness, and above all its _bizarre_ distortions of the human face and form, shows more plainly than the work of any other french caricaturist the influence of gillray. a collection of grinning skulls are labeled "analysis of human thought"; state documents of louis philippe are being cut and weighed and triturated, while in the foreground a legislator with distended cheeks is wasting an infinite lot of breath upon a blowpipe in his effort to distill the much-sought-for quintessence from a retort filled with fragments of the words "bonapartism," "anarchy," "equality," "republic," etc. one of the palpable results of the "political quintessence" of louis philippe's government took the form of heavy imposts, and these also afforded a subject for grandville's graphic pencil. "the public thrown to the imposts in the great pit of the budget" first appeared in _la caricature_. it represented the various taxes under which france was suffering in the guise of strange and unearthly animals congregated in a sort of bear pit, somewhat similar to the one which attracts the attention of all visitors to the city of berne. the spectacle is one given by the government in power for the amusement of all those connected in any way with public office: in other words, the salaried officials who draw their livelihood from the taxes imposed upon the people. it is for their entertainment that the tax-paying public is being hurled to the monsters below--monsters more uncouth and fantastic than even mr. h. g. wells's fertile brain conceived in his "war of the worlds," or "first men in the moon." daumier in his turn had to have his fling at the ministerial benches of the government of july--the "prostituted chamber of 1834." at the present day, when the very names of the men whom he attacked are half forgotten, his famous cartoon, "le ventre législatif," is still interesting; yet it is impossible to realize the impression it must have made in the days when every one of those "ventrigoulus," those rotund, somnolent, inanely smiling old men, with the word "_bourgeoisie_" plainly written all over them, were familiar figures in the political world, and daumier's presentment of them, one and all, a masterly indictment of complacent incapacity. as between daumier and grandville, the two leading lights of _la caricature_, there is little question that the former was the greater. balzac, who was at one time one of the editors of _la caricature_, writing under pseudonym of "comte alexandre de b.," and was the source of inspiration of one of its leading features, the curious _etudes de genre_, once said of daumier: "_ce gaillard-là, mes enfants, a du michel-ange sous la peau._" balzac took daumier under his protection from the beginning. his first counsel to him was: "if you wish to become a great artist, _faites des dettes_!" grandville has been defined by later french critics as _un névrosé_, a bitter and pessimistic soul. it was he who produced the cruelest compositions that ever appeared in _la caricature_. he had, however, some admirable pages to his credit, among others his interpretation of sebastian's famous "l'ordre règne à varsovie." fearfully sinister is the field of carnage, with the cossack, with bloody _pique_, mounting guard, smoking his pipe tranquilly, on his face the horrible expression of satisfaction over a work well done. grandville also conceived the idea, worthy of a great cartoonist, of processions and cortèges. these enabled him to have pass before the eye, under costumes, each conveying some subtle irony or allusion, all the political men in favor. every occasion was good. a religious procession, and the men of the day appeared as choir boys, as acolytes, etc. _un vote de budget_, and then it was _une marche de boeuf gras_, with savages, musketeers, clowns forming the escort of "_m. gros, gras et bête_." it is easy to guess who was the personage so designated. nothing is more amusing than these pages, full of a _verve, soutenue de pince sans rire_. [illustration: the resuscitation of the french censorship. _by grandville._] [illustration: louis philippe as bluebeard. "sister press, do you see anything?" "nothing, but the july sun beating on the dusty road." "sister press, do you see anything?" "two cavaliers, urging their horses across the plain, and bearing a banner."] it is one of the many little ironies of louis philippe's reign that, after having owed his election to his supposed advocacy of freedom of the press, he should in less than two years take vigorous measures to stifle it. some of the best known cartoons that appeared in _la caricature_ deal with this very subject. one of these, which bears the signature of grandville and is marked by all the vindictive bitterness of which that artist was the master, represents louis philippe in the rôle of bluebeard, who, dagger in hand, is about to slay his latest wife. the wife, the "constitution," lies prostrate, hound with thongs. the corpses of this political bluebeard's other victims may be seen through the open door of the secret chamber. leaning over the balcony and scanning the horizon is the figure of sister anne, in this case symbolic of the press. the unfortunate "constitution," feeling that her last minute has come, calls out: "sister press, do you see nothing coming?" the press replies: "i see only the sun of july beating down, powdering the dusty road and parching the green fields." again the constitution cries: "sister press, do you see nothing coming?" and this time the press calls back: "i see two cavaliers urging their horses across the plain and carrying a banner." below the castle of bluebeard may be seen the figures of the two cavaliers. the banner which they carry bears the significant word, "republic!" another cartoon bearing upon the same subject represents liberty wearing a phrygian cap, driving the chariot of the sun. the king and his ministers and judges, above whom a crow hovers ominously, flapping its black wings, are seeking to stop the course of liberty by thrusting between the spokes of the wheels sticks and rods inscribed "lawsuits against the press," while talleyrand comes to their aid by throwing beneath the wheels stones symbolizing "standing armies," "imposts," "holy alliance," and so forth. this cartoon is inscribed: "it would be easier to stop the course of the sun," and is the work of traviès, who is best known as the creator of the grotesque hunchback figure, "mayeux." [illustration: barbarism and the cholera invading europe in 1831.] [illustration: raid on the workshop of the liberty of the press.] chapter x mayeux and robert macaire a peculiar feature of french caricature, especially after political subjects were largely forbidden, was the creation of certain famous types who soon became familiar to the french public, and whose reappearances from day to day in new and ever grotesque situations were hailed with growing delight. such were the mayeux of traviès and the macaire and bertrand of daumier, who in course of time became as celebrated, in a certain sense, as the heroes of "the three musketeers." in his "curiosités esthétiques" beaudelaire has told the story of the origin of mayeux. "there was," he says, "in paris a sort of clown named le claire, who had the run of various low resorts and theaters. his specialty was to make _têtes d'expression_, that is, by a series of facial contortions he would express successively the various human passions. this man, a clown by nature, was very melancholy and possessed with a mad desire for friendship. all the time not occupied in practice and in giving his grotesque performances he spent in searching for a friend, and when he had been drinking, tears of solitude flowed freely from his eyes. traviès saw him. it was a time when the great patriotic enthusiasm of july was still at its height. a luminous idea entered his brain. mayeux was created, and for a long time afterward this same turbulent mayeux talked, screamed, harangued, and gesticulated in the memory of the people of paris." [illustration: traviès's "mayeux." "adam destroyed us by the apple; lafayette by the pear."] in a hundred different guises, in the blue blouse of the workman, the apron of the butcher, the magisterial gown of judge or advocate, this hunchback mayeux, this misshapen parody upon humanity, endeared himself to the parisian public. virulent, salacious, corrupt, he was a sort of french mr. hyde--the shadow of secret weaknesses and vices, lurking behind the dr. jekyll of smug _bourgeois_ respectability; and the french public recognized him as a true picture of their baser selves. they laughed indulgently over the broad, rabelaisian jests that unfailingly accompanied each new cartoon--jests which m. dayot has admirably characterized as "seasoned with coarse salt, more german than gallic, and forming a series of legends which might be made into a veritable catechism of pornography." this mayeux series is not, strictly speaking, political in its essence. it touches upon all sides of life, without discrimination and without respect. it even trespasses upon the subject of that forbidden fruit, "le poire." in an oft-cited cartoon, mayeux with extended arms, his head sunken lower than usual between his huddled shoulders, is declaiming: "adam destroyed us with the apple; lafayette has destroyed us with the pear!" and later, when repeated arrests, verdicts, fines, edicts had banished politics from the arena of caricature, mayeux was still a privileged character. like chicot, the jester, who could speak his mind fearlessly to his "henriquet," while the ordinary courtier cringed obsequiously, mayeux shared the proverbial privilege of children and buffoons, to speak the truth. and oftentimes it was not even necessary for his creator, traviès, to manifest any overt political significance; the public were always more than ready to look for it below the surface. in such a picture as that of mayeux, in napoleonic garb striking an attitude before a portrait of the little corporal and exclaiming, "_comme je lui ressemble!_" they inevitably discovered a hint that there were other hypocrites more august than mayeux who fancied themselves worthy of filling napoleon's shoes. [illustration: messieurs macaire and bertrand have found it expedient to make a hurried departure for belgium for the purpose of evading french justice. the eloquent macaire, on reaching the frontier, declaims as follows: "hail to thee, o land of hospitality! hail, fatherland of those who haven't got any! sacred refuge of all unfortunates proscribed by human justice, hail! to all drooping hearts belgium is dear."] even more famous than mayeux are the macaire and bertrand series, the joint invention of philipon, who supplied the ideas and the text, and of daumier, who executed the designs. according to thackeray, whose analysis of these masterpieces of french caricature has become classic, they had their origin in an old play, the "auberge des adrets," in which two thieves escaped from the galleys were introduced, robert macaire, the clever rogue, and bertrand, his friend, the "butt and scapegoat on all occasions of danger." the play had been half-forgotten when it was revived by a popular and clever actor, frederick lemaïtre, who used it as a vehicle for political burlesque. the play was suppressed, but _le charivari_ eagerly seized upon the idea and continued it from day to day in the form of a pictorial puppet show, of which the public never seemed to weary. thackeray's summary of the characters of these two illustrious rascals can scarcely be improved upon: [illustration: extinguished!] "m. robert macaire [he says] is a compound of fielding's 'blueskin' and goldsmith's 'beau tibbs.' he has the dirt and dandyism of the one, with the ferocity of the other: sometimes he is made to swindle, but where he can get a shilling more, m. macaire will murder without scruple; he performs one and the other act (or any in the scale between them) with a similar bland imperturbability, and accompanies his actions with such philosophical remarks as may be expected from a person of his talents, his energies, his amiable life and character. bertrand is the simple recipient of macaire's jokes, and makes vicarious atonement for his crimes, acting, in fact, the part which pantaloon performs in the pantomime, who is entirely under the fatal influence of clown. he is quite as much a rogue as that gentleman, but he has not his genius and courage.... thus robert macaire and his companion bertrand are made to go through the world; both swindlers, but the one more accomplished than the other. both robbing all the world, and robert robbing his friend, and, in the event of danger, leaving him faithfully in the lurch. there is, in the two characters, some grotesque good for the spectator--a kind of 'beggars' opera' moral.... and with these two types of clever and stupid knavery, m. philipon and his companion daumier have created a world of pleasant satire upon all the prevailing abuses of the day." [illustration: louis philippe as cain with the angels of justice in pursuit.] the macaire and bertrand series were less directly political in their scope than that of traviès's hunchback; at least, their political allusions were more carefully veiled. yet the first of the series had portrayed in macaire's picturesque green coat and patched red trousers no less a personage than the old "poire" himself, and the public remembered it. when politics were banished from journalism they persisted in finding in each new escapade of macaire and bertrand an allusion to some fresh scandal, if not connected with the king himself, at least well up in the ranks of governmental hypocrites. and, although the specific scandals upon which they are based, the joint-stock schemes for floating worthless enterprises, the thousand-and-one plausible humbugs of the period, are now forgotten, to those who take the trouble to read between the lines, these masterpieces of daumier's genius form a luminous exposition of the _morale_ of the government and the court circles. [illustration: laughing john--crying john. july, 1830. february, 1848.] chapter xi from cruikshank to leech in contrast with the brilliancy of the french artists, the work in england during these years, at least prior to the establishment of _punch_, is distinctly disappointing. the one man who might have raised caricature to an even higher level than that of gillray and rowlandson was george cruikshank, but he withdrew early in life from political caricature, preferring, like hogarth, to concentrate his talent upon the dramatic aspects of contemporary social life. yet at the outset of his career, just as he was coming of age, cruikshank produced one cartoon that has remained famous because it anticipated by thirty years the attitude of mill and cobden in 1846. it was in 1815, just after the battle of waterloo had secured an era of peace for europe, that he produced his protest against the laws restricting the importation of grain into england. he called it "the blessings of peace; or, the curse of the corn bill." a cargo of foreign grain has just arrived and is being offered for sale by the supercargo: "here is the best for fifty shillings." on the shore a group of british landholders wave the foreigner away: "we won't have it at any price. we are determined to keep up our own to eighty shillings, and if the poor can't buy it at that price, why, they must starve." in the background a storehouse with tight-shut doors bulges with home-grown grain. a starving family stand watching while the foreign grain is thrown overboard, and the father says: "no, no, masters, i'll not starve, but quit my native land, where the poor are crushed by those they labor to support, and retire to one more hospitable, and where the arts of the rich do not interpose to defeat the providence of god." after cruikshank, until the advent of the men who made _punch_ famous,--richard doyle, john leech, john tenniel, and their successors,--there are no cartoonists in england whose work rises above mediocrity. when the death of canning brought wellington and peel into power, a series of colored prints bearing the signature h. heath, and persistently lampooning the new ministry, enjoyed a certain vogue. they scarcely rose above the level of the penny comic valentine, which they much resembled in crudeness of color and poverty of invention. one set, entitled "our theatrical celebrities," depicted the premier as stage manager, the other members of the cabinet as leading man, première danseuse, prompter, etc. another series depicts the same statesmen as so many thoroughbreds, to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, and describes the good points of each in the most approved language of the turf. lot no. 1 is the duke of wellington, described as "the famous charger, arthur"; lot no. 2 is peel, the "good old cobb, bobby," and the rest of the series continue the same vein of inane witticism. somewhat more point is to be found in the portrayal of wellington buried up to his neck in his own boot--one of the universal wellington boots of the period. the cartoonist's thought, quite obviously, was that the illustrious hero of waterloo had won his fame primarily in boots and spurs, and that as a statesman he became a very much shrunken and insignificant figure. in its underlying thought this cartoon suggests comparison with the familiar "grandpa's hat" cartoons of the recent harrison administration. very rarely heath broke away from home politics and touched upon international questions of the day. a print showing the premier engaged in the task of "making a rushlight," which he is just withdrawing cautiously from a large tub labeled "greece," is an allusion to the part played by great britain in helping to add the modest light of greek independence to the general illumination of civilized europe. [illustration: the duke of wellington in caricature. _from the collection of the new york public library._] another man whose work enjoyed a long period of shop-window popularity, and who nevertheless did not always rise above the comic-valentine level, was john doyle, who owes his memory less to his own work than to the fact that he was the father of a real master of the art, richard doyle. parton, in his history of "caricature and other comic art," notes the elder doyle's remarkable prolificness, estimating his collected prints at upward of nine hundred; and he continues: "it was a custom with english print-sellers to keep portfolios of his innocent and amusing pictures to let out by the evening to families about to engage in the arduous work of entertaining their friends at dinner. he excelled greatly in his portraits, many of which, it is said by contemporaries, are the best ever taken of the noted men of that day, and may safely be accepted as historical. brougham, peel, o'connell, hume, russell, palmerston, and others appear in his works as they were in their prime, with little distortion or exaggeration, the humor of the pictures being in the situation portrayed. thus, after a debate in which allusion was made to an ancient egg anecdote, doyle produced a caricature in which the leaders of parties were drawn as hens sitting upon eggs. the whole interest of the picture lies in the speaking likeness of the men." chapter xii the beginning of "punch" what the advent of _la caricature_ did for french comic art was done for england by the birth of _punch_, the "london charivari," on july 17, 1841. it is not surprising that this veteran organ of wit and satire, essentially british though it is in the quality and range of its humor, should have inspired a number of different writers successively to record its annals. mr. m. h. spielmann, whose admirable volume is likely to remain the authoritative history, points out that the very term "cartoon" in its modern sense is in reality a creation of _punch's_. in the reign of charles i., he says, the approved phrase was, "a mad designe"; in the time of george ii. it was known as a "hieroglyphic"; throughout the golden age of gillray and cruikshank "caricature" was the epithet applied to the separate copperplate broadsides displayed in the famous shops of ackermann, mrs. humphrey, and mcclean. but it was not until july, 1843, when the first great exhibition of cartoons for the houses of parliament was held--gigantic designs handling the loftiest subjects in the most elevated artistic spirit--that _punch_ inaugurated his own sarcastic series of "cartoons," and by doing so permanently enriched the language with a new word, or rather with new meaning for an old word. _punch_, however, did far more than merely to change the terminology of caricature, he revolutionized its spirit; he made it possible for gladstone to say of it that "in his early days, when an artist was engaged to produce political satires, he nearly always descended to gross personal caricature, and sometimes to indecency. to-day the humorous press showed a total absence of vulgarity and a fairer treatment, which made this department of warfare always pleasing." as in the case of other famous characters of history, the origin and parentage of _punch_ have been much disputed, and a variety of legends have grown up about the source of its very name, the credit for its genesis being variously assigned to its original editors, henry mayhew, mark lemon, the printer joseph last, the writer douglas jerrold, and a number of obscurer literary lights. one story cited by mr. spielmann, although clearly apocryphal, is nevertheless worthy of repetition. according to this story, somebody at one of the preliminary meetings spoke of the forthcoming paper as being like a good mixture of punch, good for nothing without lemon, when mayhew caught up the idea and cried, "a capital idea! we'll call it _punch_!" in marked contrast to its french prototype, the "london charivari" was from the beginning a moderate organ, and a stanch supporter of the crown. in its original prospectus its political creed was outlined as follows: "_punch_ has no party prejudices; he is conservative in his opposition to fantoccini and political puppets, but a progressive whig in his love of _small change_ and a repeal of the union with public judies." and to this day this policy of "hitting all around," of avoiding any bitter and prolonged partisanship, is the keynote of _punch's_ popularity and prestige. how this attitude has been consistently maintained in its practical working is well brought out by mr. spielmann in his chapter dedicated to the periodic _punch_ dinners, where the editorial councils have always taken place: [illustration: the land of liberty.] "when the meal is done and cigars and pipes are duly lighted, subjects are deliberately proposed in half a dozen quarters, until quite a number may be before the staff. they are fought all round the table, and unless obviously and strikingly good, are probably rejected or attacked with good-humored ridicule or withering scorn.... and when the subject of a cartoon is a political one, the debate grows hot and the fun more furious, and it usually ends by tories and radicals accepting a compromise, for the parties are pretty evenly balanced at the table; while mr. burnand assails both sides with perfect indifference. at last, when the intellectual tug-of-war, lasting usually from half-past eight for just an hour and three-quarters by the clock, is brought to a conclusion, the cartoon in all its details is discussed and determined; and then comes the fight over the title and the 'cackle,' amid all the good-natured chaff and banter of a pack of boisterous, high-spirited schoolboys." [illustration: "what? you young yankee-noodle, strike your own father!"] [illustration: louis philippe as "the napoleon of peace." _from the collection of the new york public library._] down to the close of the period covered in the present chapter, the cartoon played a relatively small part in the weekly contents of _punch_, averaging barely one a week, and being omitted altogether from many numbers. during these years the dominating spirit was unquestionably john leech, who produced no less than two hundred and twenty-three cartoons out of a total of three hundred and fourteen, or more than twice as many as all the other contributors put together. he first appeared with a pageful of "foreign affairs" in the fourth issue of _punch_--a picture of some huddled groups of foreign refugees--a design remembered chiefly because it for the first time introduced to the world the artist's sign-manual, a leech wriggling in a water bottle. of doyle's political plates during these early years, none is more interesting to the american reader than the few rare occasions upon which he seeks to express the british impression of the united states. one of these, "the land of liberty," appeared in 1847. a lean and lanky, but beardless, uncle sam tilts lazily back in his rocking-chair, a six-shooter in his hand, a huge cigar between his teeth. one foot rests carelessly upon a bust of washington, which he has kicked over. the other is flung over the back of another chair in sprawling insolence. in the ascending clouds of smoke appear the stars and stripes, surrounded by a panorama of outrages, duels, barroom broils, lynch law, etc., and above them all, the contending armies of the mexican war, over whom a gigantic devil hovers, his hands extended in a malignant benediction. a closely analogous cartoon of this same year by richard doyle sharply satirized louis philippe as the "napoleon of peace," and depicted in detail the unsatisfactory condition of european affairs as seen from the british vantage ground. as a consequence of this cartoon _punch_ was for some time excluded from paris. [illustration: the great sea serpent of 1848. _from the collection of the new york public library._] from 1848 onward the cartoons in _punch_ look upon the world politics from a constantly widening angle. indeed, the same remark holds good for the comic organs not only of england, but of france, germany, italy, and the other leading nations as well. throughout the second half of the nineteenth century the international relations of the leading powers may be followed almost without a break in the cartoons of _punch_ and _judy_, of the _fliegende blätter_ and the _kladderadatsch_, of _don pirlone_, of the _journal pour rire_, of _life_ and _puck_ and _judge_, and the countless host of their followers and imitators. [illustration: a bird's eye view of europe in 1830. _from the collection of the new york public library._] chapter xiii retrospective [illustration: daumier. daumier fut le peintre ordinaire des pairs, des députés et des robert-macaire. son rude crayon fait l'histoire de nos jours. --ô l'étonnante boule! ô la bonne figure! --je le crois pardieu bien, car daumier est toujours excellent en caricature.] the close of the first half of the nineteenth century marks a convenient moment for a backward glance. these fifty years, which began with the consulship of the first napoleon and closed on the eve of the third napoleon's _coup d'état_, witnessed the rise and fall of more than one napoleonic spirit in the realm of comic art. it was essentially a period of individualism, of the one-man power in caricature. existing conditions forbade a logical and unbroken development of the political cartoon; it evolved only by fits and starts. it was often less an expression of the popular mood than a vehicle for personal enthusiasm or personal rancor; at the hands of just a few masters, it verged upon the despotic. at intervals, first in one country and then in another, a gillray, a rowlandson, a daumier, would blaze forth, brilliant, erratic, meteor-like, leaving behind them a trail of scintillating suggestion, destined to fire some new fuse, to start caricature along some new curve of eccentricity. the importance of these fifty years, the lasting influence of these forerunners of the modern cartoonists, must not be underrated. without the inspiration of their brilliant successes, and, it may also be added, the useful lessons of their errors and failures, the cartoon of to-day would be radically different, and probably greatly inferior to what it is. above all, they taught, by two tremendous object lessons, the potent force that lies in pictorial satire--by the share which english cartoonists had in the overthrow of napoleon i., and which french cartoonists had in the downfall of louis philippe. but it was only with the advent of the modern comic weekly of the high type represented by _punch_ that it became possible to develop schools of caricature with definite aims and established traditions--schools that have tended steadily to eliminate and reject the old-time elements of vulgarity and exaggeration, to gain the increased influence that comes from sobriety of method and higher artistic excellence, and to hold erratic individuality in check. few people who are not directly concerned in its making ever realize how essentially the modern caricature is a composite production. take, for example, the big, double-page cartoon which has become such a familiar weekly feature in _puck_ or _judge_, with its complicated group of figures, its suggestive background, its multitude of clever minor points; the germ idea has been picked out from perhaps a dozen others, as the result of careful deliberation, and from this starting point the whole design has been built up, detail by detail, representing the joint cleverness of the entire editorial staff. but the collaboration reaches further back than this. a political cartoon resembles in a way a composite photograph, which embodies not merely the superimposed features of the men who sat before the camera, but something also of the countless generations before them, who have made their features what they are by transmitting from father to son something of their own personality. in the same way, the political cartoon of to-day is the product of a gradual evolution, mirroring back the familiar features of many a cartoon of the past. it is not merely an embodiment of the ideas of the satirists who suggested it and the artist who drew it, but also of many a traditional and stereotyped symbol, bequeathed from generation to generation by artists dead and gone. the very essence of pictorial satire, its alpha and omega, so to speak, is symbolism, the use of certain established types, conventional personifications of peace and war, death and famine and disease, father time with his scythe, the old year and the new; the russian bear, the british lion, and the american eagle; uncle sam and columbia, britannia and john bull. these figures, as we have them to-day, cannot point to any one creator. they are not an inspiration of the moment, a stroke of genius, like daumier's "macaire" or traviès's "mayeux." they are the product of a century of evolution, a gradual survival of the fittest, resulting from the unconscious natural selection of popular approval. no better specific instance can be taken than that of the familiar figure of john bull as he appears from week to week in the contemporary pages of _punch_, for his descent may be traced in an unbroken line--there are no missing links. no single british caricaturist, from gillray to du maurier, can claim the credit for having invented him; yet each in his turn has contributed something, a touch here, a line there, toward making him what he is to-day. as mr. spielmann has pointed out, the earliest prototype of _punch's_ john bull is to be sought in gillray's conception of "farmer george," that figured in a long series of malevolent caricatures depicting george iii., as a gaping country lout, a heavy, dull-witted yokel. there is no more curious paradox in the history of caricature than that this figure of "farmer george," conceived in pure malice as a means of inspiring resentment against a king popularly believed to care more for his farmyard than for the interests of his subjects, should by gradual transition have come to be accepted as the symbolic figure of the nation. yet the successive steps are easy enough to understand. when gillray's point of attack had shifted from the throne of england to the throne of france, his type of "farmer george" needed but slight modification to become a huge, ungainly ogre, the incarnation of british wrath against "little boney"--shaking a formidable fist at the coast of calais, wading knee-deep across the channel, or greedily opening a cavernous jaw to take in a soul-satisfying meal of french frigates. but beneath the exaggerated ferocity of gillray's extreme type, the idea of a farmer as the national figure is never quite lost sight of. in gillray's later cartoons the conception of john bull had already taken on a more consistent and definite form. at the hands of rowlandson and woodward he lost much of his uncouthness and began to assume a mellower and more benignant aspect; a cartoon by the latter, entitled "genial rays," pictures him reclining luxuriously upon a bed of roses, basking in "the sun of patriotism," the image of agricultural contentment. a certain coarseness and vulgarity, however, clung to him until well down into the forties, when the refining touch of leech and tenniel gradually idealized him into the portly, choleric, well-to-do rural gentleman who is to-day such a familiar figure the world over. this type of john bull as the representative briton once called forth some thoroughly characteristic comments from john ruskin. "is it not surely," he asks, "some overruling power in the nature of things, quite other than the desire of his readers, which compels mr. punch, when the squire, the colonel, and the admiral are to be at once expressed, together with all that they legislate or fight for, in the symbolic figure of the nation, to present the incarnate mr. bull always as a farmer--never as a manufacturer or shopkeeper?" such a view on the part of mr. ruskin is consistent with his life-long insistence upon literal truth in art. but he was obviously mistaken when he questioned that john bull is the deliberate choice of the british public. the average englishman, whether soldier or sailor, statesman, merchant, or manufacturer, approves and enjoys the pleasant fiction that the representative type is a good, old-fashioned country gentleman, conservative and rather insular, a supporter of landed interests, a patron of country sports; in short, one who lives his life close to his native soil, who seems to personify the rolling down, the close-clipped hedge, the trim gardenplot, the neat thatched roof, things which typify england the world over. [illustration: the evolution of john bull.] [illustration: henri monnier in the rôle of joseph prudhomme. "never shall my daughter become the wife of a scribbler." _by daumier_] not only are most of the accepted symbolic figures--john bull, uncle sam, and the rest--what they are because they meet with popular approval, but no cartoonist to-day could venture upon any radical departure from the established type--a bearded john bull, a smooth-shaven uncle sam--without calling down public disfavor upon his head. if one stops to think of it, our own accepted national type, the tall, lank, awkward figure, the thin, angular yankee face with a shrewd and kindly twinkle in the eye, is even less representative of the average american than john bull is of the average briton. it is interesting to recall that before the civil war our national type frequently took the form of a southerner--regularly in the pages of _punch_. to-day, in england and in america, there is but one type of uncle sam, and we would not tolerate a change. it may be that in the gaunt, loose-knit frame, the strong and rugged features we recognize a kinship to that sterling and essentially american type of man which found its best exponent in lincoln, and that this is the reason why uncle sam has become the most universally accepted and the best beloved of all our conventional types. chapter xiv '48 and the coup d'état it was only natural that caricature, like every other form of free expression of opinion, should feel the consequences of the general political upheaval of 1848; and these consequences differed widely in the different countries of europe, according to the degree of civic liberty which that revolutionary movement had effected. in germany, for example, it resulted in the establishment of a whole group of comic weeklies, with a license for touching upon political topics quite unprecedented in that land of imperialism and censorship. in france, on the contrary, political caricature came to an abrupt close just at a time when it had begun to give promise of exceptional interest. louis napoleon, who owed his elevation to the presidency of the republic chiefly to the popular belief in his absolute harmlessness, developed a most unexpected and disconcerting strength of character. his capacity for cunning and unscrupulousness was yet to be learned; but a feeling of distrust was already in the air, and the caricaturists were quick to reflect it. louis napoleon, however, was keenly alive to the deadly harm wrought to his predecessor by philipon's pictorial sharp-shooters, and he did not propose to let history repeat itself by holding him up to public ridicule, after the fashion of the poor old "poire," the citizen king. accordingly the _coup d'état_ was hardly an accomplished fact when press laws were passed of such a stringent nature that the public press, and pictorial satire along with it, was reduced to a state of vassalage, dependent upon the imperial caprice, a condition that lasted upward of fifteen years. consequently, the few cartoons satirizing napoleon iii., that emanate from french sources, either belong to the closing years of his reign or else antedate the law of 1851, which denied trial by jury to all cases of infringement of the press laws. the latter cartoons, however, are of special interest, for they serve to throw important light upon the popular state of mind just prior to the famous _coup d'état_. [illustration: "the only lamps authorized to light the path of the government." _by vernier in "charivari."_] [illustration: an italian cartoon of '48.] the majority of these cartoons appeared in the pages of _charivari_, and some of the best are due to the caustic pencil of charles vernier. a good specimen of this artist's work is a lithograph entitled "the only lamps authorized for the present to light up the path of the government," showing louis napoleon marching along sedately, his hands clasped behind his back and his way illuminated by three lantern-bearers. the lanterns are, respectively, _la patrie du soir_, _le moniteur du soir_ and _la gazette de france_, newspapers then in favor with the government. just in front of louis napoleon, however, may be seen a dark and ominous manhole. another of vernier's cartoons is called "the shooting match in the champs élysées." the target is the head of the constitution surmounting a pole. napoleon is directing the efforts of the contestants. "the man who knocks the target over completely," he is saying, "i will make my prime minister." the contrast between the great napoleon and the man whom victor hugo liked so to call "napoleon the little" suggested another pictorial effort of vernier. a veteran of the grand army is watching the coach of the state passing by, napoleon holding the reins. "what! that my emperor!" exclaims the veteran, shading his eyes. "those rascally englishmen, how they have changed my vision!" the methods by which louis napoleon obtained his election first as president for ten years, and secondly as emperor of the french, were satirized in _charivari_ by daumier in a cartoon called "les aveugles" (the blind). in the center of this cartoon is a huge ballot jar marked "universal suffrage." around this the sightless voters are laboriously groping. [illustration: napoleon le petit. _by vernier._] many were the designs by which daumier in _charivari_ satirized louis napoleon's flirtation with the french republic. in one of them the prince, bearing a remote resemblance in manner and in dress to robert macaire, is offering the lady his arm. "_belle dame_," he is saying, "will you accept my escort?" to which she replies coldly: "monsieur, your passion is entirely too sudden. i can place no great faith in it." [illustration: the new siamese twins.] [illustration: louis napoleon and madame france.] pictorial expressions of opinion regarding the "great crime" of 1851, which once more replaced a republic with an empire, must be sought for outside of france. but there was one subject at this time upon which even the strictest of edicts could not enforce silence, and that was the subject of napoleon's marriage to eugénie. the emperor's spanish bride was never popular, not even during the first years of the second empire, before she began to meddle with affairs of state; and in many incisive ways the parisians heaped ridicule upon her. a curious little pamphlet, with text and illustrations, about the new empress was sold in paris at the time of the marriage. this pamphlet was entirely complimentary and harmless. the biting humor of it was on the title-page, which the vendors went about crying in the streets: "the portrait and virtues of the empress, all for two sous!" but for a frank expression of what the world thought of the new master of the destinies of france, it is necessary to turn to the contemporary pages of _punch_. the "london charivari" was at this time just entering upon its most glorious epoch of political caricature. john leech, one of the two great english cartoonists of the past half century, had arrived at the maturity of his talent; the second, john tenniel, was destined soon to join the staff of _punch_ in place of richard doyle, who resigned in protest against the editorial policy of attacking the roman catholic church. both of these artists possessed a technical skill and a degree of artistic inspiration that raised them far above the level of the mere caricaturist. and as it happened, the world was entering upon a long succession of stormy scenes, destined to furnish them with matter worthy of their pencils. after forty years of peace, europe was about to incur an epidemic of war. the clash between turkey and russia in 1853 was destined to assume international proportions in the crimean war; england's troubles were to be augmented by the revolt of her indian mercenaries; the russian war was to be closely followed by another between france and austria; by the enfranchisement of italy from the alps to the adriatic; the bitter struggle between prussia and austria; and the breaking up of the confederation of the rhine, with the franco-prussian war looming up in the near future. it was on the threshold of such troublous times, and as if prophetic of the end of european tranquillity, that leech signalized the accession of napoleon iii. as emperor with the significant cartoon, "france is tranquil!!!" poor france cannot well be otherwise than tranquil, for mr. leech depicts her bound hand and foot, a chain-shot fastened to her feet and a sentry standing guard over her with a bayonet. the artist soon followed this up with another cartoon, evidently suggested by the initial plate of hogarth's famous series of "the rake's progress." the prince president, in the character of the rake, has just come into his inheritance, and has cast aside his former mistress, liberté, to whom he is offering money, her mother (france) standing by, an indignant witness to the scene. his military tailor is measuring him for a new imperial uniform, while behind him a priest (in allusion to the financial aid which the papal party was receiving from napoleon) is helping himself from a plate of money standing beside the president. on the floor is a confused litter of swords, knapsacks, bayonets, crowns, crosses of the legion of honor, the code napoléon, and other miscellaneous reminders of louis' well-known craze on the subject of his uncle and his uncle's ideas. mr. tenniel's early cartoons of louis napoleon are scarcely more kindly. the emperor's approaching marriage is hit off in one entitled "the eagle in love," in which eugénie, represented with the most unflattering likeness, is employed in paring the imperial eagle's talons. in 1853 tenniel depicts an "international poultry show," where we see among the entries a variety of eagles--the prussian eagle, the american eagle, the two-headed russian and austrian eagles--and among them a wretched mongrel, more closely akin to a bedraggled barn-door fowl than to the "french eagle" which it claims to be. queen victoria, who is visiting the show, under escort of mr. punch, remarks: "we have nothing of that sort, mr. punch; but should there be a _lion_ show, we can send a specimen!!" [illustration: louis napoleon's proclamation.] [illustration: split crow in the crimea. _from punch._] chapter xv the struggle in the crimea [illustration: bursting of the russian bubble.] [illustration: "general février" turned traitor.] the grim struggle of the crimean war for a time checked mr. punch's attacks upon napoleon iii., and turned his attention in another direction. although the war cloud in the east was assuming portentous dimensions, there were many in england, the peace society, the members of the peace-at-any-price party, with messrs. bright and cobden at their head, and most conspicuous of all the prime minister, lord aberdeen, who deliberately blinded themselves to the possibility of war. it was for the enlightenment of these gentlemen that mr. leech designed his cartoon "no danger," representing a donkey, eloquent in his stolid stupidity, tranquilly braying in front of a loaded cannon. in still another cartoon lord aberdeen himself is placidly smoking "the pipe of peace" over a brimming barrel of gunpowder. john bull, however, has already become wide-awake to the danger, for he is nailing the russian eagle to his barn door, remarking to his french neighbor that _he_ won't worry the turkies any more. at this time england had begun to watch with growing jealousy the cordial _entente_ between russia and austria, for the emperor nicholas was strongly suspected of having offered to austria a slice of his prospective prize, turkey. this rumor forms the basis of an effective cartoon by leech, "the old 'un and the young 'un," in which the russian and austrian emperors are seated at table, genially dividing a bottle of port between them. "now then, austria," says nicholas, "just help me finish the port(e)." meanwhile, hostilities between turkey and russia had begun, and the latter had already received a serious setback at oltenitza, an event commemorated by tenniel in his cartoon of "a bear with a sore head." in spite of his blind optimism, lord aberdeen was by this time finding it decidedly difficult to handle the reins of foreign affairs. one of the best satires of the year is by tenniel, entitled "the unpopular act of the courier of st. petersburg," depicting aberdeen performing the dangerous feat of driving a team of vicious horses. the mettlesome leaders, russia and turkey, have already taken the bit between their teeth, while austria, catching the contagion of their viciousness, is plunging dangerously. this cartoon was soon followed by another still more notable, entitled "what it has come to," one of those splendid animal pictures in which john tenniel especially excelled. it shows us the russian bear, scampering off in the distance, while in the foreground lord aberdeen is clinging desperately to the british lion, which has started in mad pursuit, with his mane erect and his tail stiffened like a ramrod; the lion plunges along, dragging behind him the terrified premier, who is gasping out that he can no longer hold him and is forced to "let him go." at the same time mr. leech also represented pictorially lord aberdeen awakening to the necessity of war in his "bombardment of odessa." the cartoon is in two parts, representing respectively the english premier and the russian emperor reading their morning paper. "bombardment of odessa," says aberdeen. "dear me, this will be very disagreeable to my imperial friend." "bombardment of odessa," says nicholas; "confound it! this will be very annoying to dear old aberdeen!" in the following november the british victory of inkerman, won against almost hopeless odds, was witnessed by two members of the russian imperial family. leech promptly commemorated this fact in his picture of "the russian bear's licked cubs, nicholas and michael." the cartoon entitled the "bursting of the russian bubble" appeared in _punch_, october 14, 1854, just after the battle of the alma had taken place and part of the russian fleet had been destroyed by the english and french ships at sebastopol. this cartoon is by the hand of leech. the russian emperor, nicholas i., had boasted of the "irresistible power" which was to enable him to overthrow the allied forces gathered in the crimea, and here the artist shows very graphically the shattering of this "irresistible power" and of the "unlimited means." of all the cartoons which leech produced there is none which enjoys a more enduring fame than the one entitled "general février turned traitor." certainly no other in the whole series of crimean war cartoons appearing in _punch_ compares with it in power. yet splendid and effective as it is, there is in it a cruelty worthy of grandville or gillray, and when it appeared it caused a shudder to run through all england. the russian emperor had boasted in a speech on the subject of the crimean war that, whatever forces france and england might be able to send to the front, russia possessed two generals on whom she could always rely, general janvier and general février. in other words, nicholas i. cynically alluded to the hardship of the russian winter, on which he counted to reduce greatly by death the armies of the allies in the crimea. but toward the end of the winter, the emperor himself died of pulmonary apoplexy, after an attack of influenza. in a flash, leech seized upon the idea. _general février had turned traitor._ under this title, the cartoon was published by _punch_ in its issue of march 10, 1855. general février (death in the uniform of a russian general) is placing his deadly hand on the breast of nicholas, and the icy cold of the russian winter--the ally in whom the emperor had placed his trust--has recoiled upon himself. the tragic dignity and grim significance of this cartoon made a deep impression upon ruskin, who regarded it as representing in the art of caricature what hood's "song of the shirt" represents in poetry. "the reception of the last-named woodcut," he says, "was in several respects a curious test of modern feeling ... there are some points to be regretted in the execution of the design, but the thought was a grand one; the memory of the word spoken and of its answer could hardly in any more impressive way have been recorded for the people; and i believe that to all persons accustomed to the earnest forms of art it contained a profound and touching lesson. the notable thing was, however, that it offended persons _not_ in earnest, and was loudly cried out against by the polite journalism of society. this fate is, i believe, the almost inevitable one of thoroughly genuine work in these days, whether poetry or painting; but what added to the singularity in this case was that coarse heartlessness was even more offended than polite heartlessness." [illustration: henri rochefort and his lantern.] [illustration: brothers in arms. the french and english troops in crimea.] as was but natural, the anglo-french alliance against russia is alluded to in more than one of mr. punch's crimean war cartoons. one of the earliest is a drawing by tenniel of england and france typified by two fine specimens of guards of both nations standing back to back in friendly rivalry of height, and mr. spielmann records in his "history of punch" that the cut proved so popular that under its title of "the united service:" it was reproduced broadcast on many articles of current use and even served as a decoration for the backs of playing cards. still another cartoon, entitled "the split crow in the crimea," represents england and france as two huntsmen, hard on the track of a wounded and fleeing two-headed bird! "he's hit hard!--follow him up!" exclaimed the huntsmen. in a french reproduction of this cartoon, which is to be found in armand dayot's "le second empire," "crow" is amusingly translated as _couronne_ (crown), and the publishers of _punch_ are given as "mm. breadburg, agnew, et cie." another cartoon of the same period is called "brothers in arms." it shows a british soldier carrying on his back a wounded french soldier, and a french soldier carrying on his back a wounded englishman. the two wounded men are clasping hands. there is no better evidence of the utter dearth of french caricature at this period than the fact that m. dayot, whose indefatigable research has brought together a highly interesting collection of pictorial documents of all classes upon this period of french history, could find nothing in the way of a cartoon in his own country and was forced to borrow from _punch_ the few that he reproduces. on the other side the russian cartoonists were by no means backward in recording the events of the war and holding up the efforts of the allies to pictorial derision. the russian point of view has come down to us in a series of excellent prints published in st. petersburg during the months of the conflict. in this warfare the russians may be said to have borrowed from their enemies, for this series is essentially french in method and execution. all through this series england and france are shown buffeted about from pillar to post by the conquering bear. a description of one of these cartoons will give a fair general idea of the entire series. sir charles napier, at a dinner given in his honor in london just before the departure of the allied fleet for kronstadt, has made the foolish boast that he would soon invite his hosts to dine with him in st. petersburg. of course the fleet never reached st. petersburg, and the russian artist satirically summed up the situation by depicting sir charles at the top of the mast, endeavoring by the aid of a large spy-glass to catch a sight of the czar's capital. [illustration: turkey, john bull & monsieur frog-eater in a bad fix. an american cartoon on the crimean war. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] among the crude american lithographs of this period the crimean war was not forgotten. a rather rare cartoon, entitled "turkey, john bull and m. frog-eater in a bad fix," is especially interesting as an evidence that american sympathy during the war was in a measure on the russian side. the russian general menshikoff is standing on the heights of sebastopol looking down smilingly and serenely on the discomfited allies, saying: "how do you do, gentlemen? very happy to see you. you must be tired. won't you walk in and take something?" john bull, seriously wounded, is lying prostrate, bawling out: "come, come, turk, no dodging. hulloa there! is that the way you stick to your friends? the coat of my stomach is ruined, my wind nearly gone. i won't be able to blow for a month. pull me out of this at any price! the devil take one party and his dam the other. i am getting sick of this business." by his side is the figure of a frenchman just hit by a cannon-ball from one of the russian guns, and crying out: "o! by damn! i not like such treat. i come tousand mile and spend ver much money to take someting from wid you, and you treat me as i vas van villin! scoundrel! robbare!!" in closing the subject of the crimean war, it is worth while to call attention to one curious phase of the war as contained in the programme of a theatrical entertainment given by the french soldiers in the trenches of sebastopol, december 23, 1855. the programme is headed "the little comic review of the crimea." it contains the announcement of the tchernaia theater, which four days later is to present three dramatic pieces. the drawing is by lucien salmont. [illustration: programme of a theatrical performance given by the french soldiers in the trenches before sebastopol.] [illustration: the british lion's vengeance on the bengal tiger.] one final echo of the struggle in the crimea is found in another of tenniel's graphic animal pictures, "the british lion smells a rat," which depicts an angry lion sniffing suspiciously at the crack of a door, behind which is being held the conference which followed the fall of sebastopol. but by far the most famous instance of tenniel's work is his series of cawnpore cartoons, the series bearing upon the indian mutiny of 1857; and one of the finest, if not the very finest, of them all is that entitled "the british lion's vengeance on the bengal tiger." it represents in the life work of tenniel what "general février turned traitor" stands for in the life work of john leech. the subject was suggested to tenniel by shirley brooks. it summed up all the horror and thirst for revenge which animated england when the news came of the treacherous atrocities of the sepoy rebels. the cawnpore massacre of women and children ordered by the infamous nana sahib had taken place in june, and when this cartoon appeared in _punch_, august 22, 1857, england had just sent thirty thousand troops to india. in the picture the british lion is springing at the throat of the bengal tiger, which is standing over the prostrate bodies of a woman and a child. the tiger, fearful of being robbed of its prey, is snarling at the avenging lion. another of the famous cawnpore cartoons of tenniel is descriptive of british vengeance on the sepoy mutineers. the english troops were simply wild for revenge when the stories came to them of the atrocities which had been perpetrated on english women and children, and their vengeance knew no bounds. the sepoys were blown from the mouths of the english cannon. it was the custom of the english soldiers to pile up a heap of sepoys, dead or wounded, pour oil over them, and then set fire to the pile. the tenniel cartoon, entitled "justice," published september 12, 1857, shows the figure of justice with sword and shield cutting down the mutineers, while behind her are the british troops working destruction with their bayonets. [illustration: the french porcupine. he may be an inoffensive animal, but he don't look like it.] no sooner had the english-french alliance against russia come to an end than _punch_ once more began to give expression to his disapproval of napoleon. a hostile spirit toward frenchmen was ingrained in the very nature of john leech, and he vented it freely in such cartoons as his celebrated "cock-a-doodle-doo!" in which the french cock, clad in the uniform of a colonel, is crowing lustily over the results of a war of which great britain had borne the brunt. or again, in "some foreign produce that mr. bull can very well spare," a cut which includes french conspirators, vile frenchwomen, organ-grinders (mr. leech was abnormally sensitive to street noises), and other objectionable foreign refuse. it is interesting in this connection to note that leech's hostility to louis napoleon was the direct cause of thackeray's resignation from the staff of _punch_ in the winter of 1854. in the letter written in the following march, thackeray explains that he had had some serious differences regarding the editorial policy of _punch_, and more specifically about the abuse of louis napoleon which, he says, "i think and thought was writing unjustly at that time, and dangerously for the welfare and peace of the country:" and he then adds the specific instance which prompted him to sever his connections: "coming from edinburgh, i bought a _punch_ containing a picture of a beggar on horseback, in which the emperor was represented galloping to hell with a sword reeking with blood. as soon as ever i could, after my return, i went to bouverie street and gave in my resignation." thackeray's act had no influence upon the policy of _punch_. leech's cartoons grew steadily more incisive in character. one of the most extraordinary is that known as "the french porcupine." it represents napoleon iii. as a porcupine, bristling with french bayonets in place of quills. one of napoleon's favorite sayings was "_l'empire c'est la paix._" but this saying was very often contradicted by events, and the first ten years of his occupation of the french throne showed france embroiled in the crimean war and the war with austria. in preparation for the latter conflict a large increase was being made in the french military armament; and leech seized upon the emperor's dictum only to express his skepticism. the cartoon appeared in march, 1859. as a matter of fact, the idea in this cartoon had previously been used in another called "the puppet show," published in june, 1854, depicting the czar nicholas in a manner closely similar; yet mr. spielmann, who notes this fact, adds that mr. leech had probably never seen, or else had forgotten, the earlier caricature. this "french porcupine" is cited as an instance of leech's extraordinary speed in executing a cartoon directly upon the wooden block. the regular _punch_ dinner had that week been held a day late. "every moment was precious, and leech proposed the idea for the cartoon, drew it in two hours, and caught his midday train on the following day, speeding away into the country with john tenniel for their usual saturday hunt." it was during this same year, 1859, at the close of the war which humbled austria and forced her to surrender venetia to sardinia, that leech voiced the suspicion that louis was casting longing eyes upon italian territory in a cartoon entitled "a scene from the new pantomime." napoleon iii, here figures as a clown, a revolver in his hand, a goose labeled italy protruding from his capacious pocket. he is earnestly assuring britannia, represented as a stout, elderly woman, eyeing him suspiciously, that his intentions are strictly honorable. part iii _the civil and franco-prussian wars_ chapter xvi the mexican war and slavery in this country the political cartoon, which practically began with william charles's parodies upon gillray, developed in a fitful and spasmodic fashion until about the middle of the century. their basis was the gillray group of many figures, and they had also much of the gillray coarseness and indecency, with a minimum of artistic skill. they were mostly lithographs of the crudest sort, designed to pass from hand to hand, or to be tacked up on the wall. it was not until the first administration of andrew jackson that a school of distinctly american political caricature can be said to have existed. it was in 1848 that the firm of currier & ives, with an office in nassau street, in new york city, began the publication of a series of campaign caricatures of sufficient merit to have been a serious factor in influencing public opinion. crude as they are, these lithographs are exceedingly interesting to study in detail. they tell their story very plainly, even apart from the legends inclosed in the huge balloon-like loops issuing from the lips of each member of the group--loops that suggest a grotesque resemblance to a soap-bubble party on a large scale. there is an amusing stiffness about the figures. they stand in such painfully precise attitudes that at a little distance they might readily be mistaken for some antiquated fashion plates. the faces, however, are in most cases excellent likenesses; they are neither distorted nor exaggerated. the artists, while sadly behind the times in retaining the use of the loop which continental cartoonists discarded much earlier, were in other respects quite up-to-date, especially in adopting the method of the elder doyle, whose great contribution to caricature was that of drawing absolutely faithful likenesses of the statesmen he wished to ridicule, relying for the humor of the cartoon upon the situation in which he placed them. it was only natural that the events of the mexican war should have inspired a number of cartoons. one of these is entitled "uncle sam's taylorifics," and shows a complacent yankee coolly snipping a mexican in two with a huge pair of shears. one blade bears the inscription "volunteers," and the other "general taylor." the yankee's left arm is labeled "eastern states," the tail of his coat "oregon," his belt "union," his left leg "western states," and his right leg, which he is using vigorously on the mexican, "southern states," and the boot "texas." below the discomfited mexican yawns the rio grande. behind the yankee's back john bull--a john bull of the type introduced by william charles during the war of 1812--is looking on enviously. [illustration: new edition of macbeth--bank-oh's ghost! 1837. one of the caricatures inspired by the united states bank case. _from the collection of the new york public library._] [illustration: balaam and balaam's ass. one of the caricatures inspired by the united states bank case. _from the collection of the new york public library._] [illustration: a new map of the united states with the additional territories on an improved plan. 1828. _from the collection of the new york public library._] [illustration: the great american steeplechase for 1844. among the various candidates for the presidency shown in this cartoon are general scott, henry clay, john c. calhoun, daniel webster, james buchanan and martin van buren. _from the collection of the new york public library._] american national feeling on the subject of the european powers deriving benefit from the discovery of gold in california is illustrated by a cartoon which shows the united states ready to defend her possessions by force of arms. the various powers have crossed the sea and are very near to our coast. queen victoria, mounted on a bull, is in the lead. she is saying: "oh, dear albert, don't you cry for me. i'm off for california with my shovel on my knee." behind her is the figure of russia, saying: "as something is bruin, i'll put in my paw, while the nations around me are making a jaw." louis napoleon, who at the time had just been elected president of the french, is drawn in the form of a bird. he is flying over the heads of victoria and russia, and singing: "as you have gold for all creation, den please give some to la grand nation. i have just become de president, and back i shall not like to went." in the distance may be seen spain, and beyond the united states fleet. along the shore stretch the tents of an american army. ominously coiled up on the rocks is the american rattlesnake with the head of president taylor. back of the camp is a battery of american guns directed by the american eagle, which wears the head of general scott, saying: "retreat, you poor d----s! nor a squabble engender, for our gold unto you we will never surrender. right about face! double quick to the rear! and back to your keepers all hands of you steer." [illustration: uncle sam's taylorifics.] [illustration: the mexican commander enjoying the prospect opposite matamoras. can i believe my spectacles? dare these "northern barbarians" thus insult the "magnanimous mexican natian"? they have taken texas--they grasp at oregon--now they lay their "rapacious hand" on mexico! "god & liberty!"--where is my friend, john bull? american cartoons of the war with mexico. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] the presidential election of 1852 was cartooned under the title "great foot race for the presidential purse ($100,000 and pickings) over the union course, 1852." the whigs, encouraged by their success with general taylor, put forth another military officer, general scott, as their candidate, but in this cartoon daniel webster is shown to be well in the lead and receiving the plaudits of most of the spectators. behind him is scott, and a little way back is franklin pierce, who proved the ultimate winner. "i can beat you both, and walk in at that, although you had a hundred yards the start of me," is webster's conviction. "confound webster!" cries scott. "what does he want to get right in my way for? if he don't give out, or pierce don't faint, i shall be beaten." "no, no, old fuss and feathers," retorts pierce, "you don't catch this child fainting now. i am going to make good time! whether i win or not, legs, do your duty." [illustration: defence of the california bank. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: great footrace for the presidential purse $100,000 and pickings over the union course 1852. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the presidential campaign of '56. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: "no higher law." _from the collection of the new york historical society._] caricature dealing with the presidential campaign of 1856 is represented by the cartoon called "the presidential campaign of '56." buchanan, who proved the successful candidate, is mounted on a hideous monster resembling a snake, and marked "slavery." the monster is being wheeled along on a low, flat car drawn by pierce, douglas, and cass. a star bearing the word "kansas" is about to disappear down the monster's throat. in the distance fremont, on horseback, is calling out: "hold on! take that animal back! we don't want it this side of the fence." buchanan is saying, "pull down that fence and make way for the peculiar institution." the fence in question is the mason and dixon's line. the faces of cass, douglas, and pierce, who are drawing along the monster, are obliterated--they are absolutely formless. the evils of slavery from a northern point of view are shown in a cartoon called "no higher law." king slavery is seated on his throne holding aloft a lash and a chain. under his left elbow is the fugitive slave bill, resting on three human skulls. daniel webster stands beside the throne, holding in his hand the scroll on which is printed, "i propose to support that bill to the fullest extent--to the fullest extent." a runaway slave is fighting off the bloodhounds that are worrying him, and in the distance, on a hill, the figure of liberty is toppling from her pedestal. [illustration: practical illustration of the fugitive slave law. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the great disunion serpent. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] the cartoon "practical illustration of the fugitive slave law" sums up very completely abolitionist sentiment on the subject. the slaveholder, with a noose in one hand and a chain in the other, a cigar in his mouth and his top-hat decorated with the single star, which was the sign of the southern confederacy, is astride of the back of daniel webster, who is crawling on all-fours. in webster's left hand is the constitution. "don't back out, webster," says the slaveholder. "if you do, we're ruined." the slave-woman who is being pursued has taken refuge with william lloyd garrison, of the boston _liberator_, who is saying: "don't be alarmed, susanna, you're safe enough." one of garrison's arms is encircling the negress's waist, at the end of the other is a pistol. in the back of the picture is the temple of liberty, over which two flags are flying. on one flag we read: "all men are born free and equal;" on the other, "a day, an hour, of virtuous liberty is worth an age of servitude." chapter xvii neglected opportunities down to the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the history of american political caricature is a history of lost opportunities. revolution and war have always been the great harvest times of the cartoonist. gillray and rowlandson owe their fame to the napoleonic wars; philipon and daumier, to the overthrow of louis philippe; leech and tenniel reached their zenith in the days of the crimean war and the sepoy mutiny. it is not the election cartoon, or the tariff cartoon, or the cartoon of local politics, it is the war cartoon that is most widely hailed and longest remembered. yet of all the wars in which the united states has been engaged, not one has given birth to a great satiric genius, and none but the latest, our recent war with spain, has received comprehensive treatment in the form of caricature. it is not strange that the revolutionary war and that of 1812 failed to inspire any worthier efforts than william charles's crude imitations of gillray. the mechanical processes of printing and engraving, the methods of distribution, the standards of public taste, were all still too primitive. the mexican war was commemorated in a number of the popular lithographs of the day; but it was not a prolonged struggle, nor one calculated to stir the public mind profoundly. with the civil war the case was radically different. here was a struggle which threatened not only national honor, but national existence--a struggle which prolonged itself grimly, month after month, and was borne home to a great majority of american families with the force of personal tragedy, arraying friend against friend, and father against son, and offering no brighter hope for the future than the vista of a steadily lengthening death-roll. there was never a time in the history of the nation when the public mind, from one end of the country to the other, was in such a state of tension; never, since the days of napoleon, had there been such an opportunity for a real master of satiric art. it seems amazing, as one looks back over the pictorial records of these four years, that the magnitude of the events did not galvanize into activity some unknown genius of the pencil, and found then and there a new school of american caricature commensurate with the fever-heat of public sentiment. the existing school of caricature seems to have been absurdly inadequate. the prevailing types were a sort of fashion-plate lithograph--groups of public men in mildly humorous situations, their features fixed in the solemn repose of the daguerreotypes upon which they were probably modeled; or else the conventional election steeplechase, in which the contestants, with long, balloon-like loops trailing from their mouths, suggest an absurd semblance to the cowboys of a wild west show, all engaged in a vain attempt to lasso and pull in their own idle words. many of the cartoons actually issued at the outbreak of the civil war impress one with a sense of indecorum, of ill-timed levity. what was wanted was not the ineptitude of feeble humor, but the rancor and venom of a gillray, the stinging irony of a daumier, the grim dignity of a tenniel. and it was not forthcoming. the one living american who might have produced work of a high order was thomas nast; but although nast's pencil was dedicated to the cause of the union from the beginning to the end, in the series of powerful emblematic pictures that appeared in _harper's weekly_, his work as a caricaturist did not begin until the close of the war. [illustration: rough and ready locomotive against the field. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] it is interesting to conjecture what the great masters of caricature would have made of such an opportunity. the issues of the war were so clear-cut, their ethical significance so momentous, that an american gillray, a unionist gillray, would have found material for a series of cartoons of eloquent and grewsome power. it is easy to imagine what form they would have taken: an uncle sam, writhing in agony, his limbs shackled with the chains of slavery, his lips gagged with the fugitive slave law, slowly being sawn asunder, while abolition and secession guide the opposite ends of the saw, or else the american eagle being worried and torn limb from limb by southern bloodhounds and stung by copperheads, while the british lion and the rest of the european menagerie look on, wistfully licking their chops and with difficulty restraining themselves from participating in the feast. such a cartoonist would have found a mine of suggestion in "uncle tom's cabin"; he would have crowded his plates with legrees and topsies, uncle toms and sambos and quimbos, fearful and wonderful to look upon, brutal, distorted, and unforgettable. [illustration: what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] it is equally easy to imagine what a daumier might have done with the material afforded by the civil war. some types of faces seem to defy the best efforts of the caricaturist--smooth, regular-featured faces, like that of lord rosebery, over which the pencil of satire seems to slip without leaving any effective mark. other faces, strong, rugged, salient, seem to invite the caricaturist's efforts; and these were the types that predominated among the leaders of the struggle for the union. daumier's genius lay in his ability to caricature the human face, to seize upon a minimum of lines and points, to catch some absurd semblance to an inanimate object, some symbolic suggestion. and when once found, he would harp upon it, ringing all possible changes, keeping it insistently, mercilessly before the public. one can fancy with what avidity he would have seized upon the stolid, indomitable figure of grant, intrenched behind his big, black, ubiquitous cigar. that cigar would have become the center of interest, the portentous symbol of grant's dogged, taciturn persistence. gradually that cigar would have grown and grown, its thickening smoke spreading in a dense war cloud over the whole series of cartoons, until finally it became the black, shining muzzle of a cannon, belching forth the powder and fire and ammunition that was to decide the issue of the war. what tenniel would have done is evidenced by what he actually did in _punch_. the great tragedies of those four years, gettysburg and bull run and the battle of the wilderness, would have been pictured with the tragic dignity that stamps his famous cartoon in which he commemorated the assassination of lincoln. [illustration: nast's famous cartoon "peace."] chapter xviii the south secedes [illustration: virginia pausing.] in view of what might have been done, it is somewhat exasperating to look over the actual cartoons of the war as they have come down to us. even when a clever idea was evolved none seemed to have the cleverness or the enterprise to develop it. as all the modern cartoonists realize, nothing is more effective than a well-planned series. it is like the constant dropping that wears away the stone. the most potent pictorial satire has always been the gradual elaboration of some clever idea--the periodic reappearance of the same characters in slightly modified environment, like the successive chapters of a serial story. the public learn to look forward to them, and hail each reappearance with a renewed burst of enthusiasm. the cartoonists of the civil war do not seem to have grasped this idea. a single example will serve as an illustration. a clever cartoon, entitled "virginia pausing," appeared just at the time that virginia, the last of the states to secede, joined the confederacy. the several southern states, represented as young rats, are gayly scampering off, in the order in which they seceded, south carolina heading the procession. virginia straggling in the rear finds herself under the paw of "uncle abe," represented as a watchful and alert old mouser, and has paused, despite herself, to consider her next step. the union, personified as the mother rat of the brood, lies stark and stiff on her back, with the stars and stripes waving over her corpse, and underneath, the legend, "the union must and shall be preserved." now this idea of the southern states as a brood of "secession rats" was capable of infinite elaboration. it might have been carried on throughout the entire four years of the struggle, the procession preserving the same significant order, with south carolina in the lead, virginia bringing up the rear, and lincoln, as a wise and resourceful mouser, ever in pursuit. it could have shown the rats at bay, cornered, entrapped--in short, the whole history of the war in a form of genial allegory. but if the initial cartoon, "virginia pausing," ever had a sequel, it perished in the general wreckage of the confederacy. [illustration: some envelopes of the time of the war.] [illustration: long abe.] the welcome which awaited caricature, even of the crudest sort, at the outbreak of the war is illustrated by the curious vogue enjoyed by envelopes adorned with all sorts of patriotic and symbolic devices--an isolated tombstone inscribed "jeff davis alone," a confederate mule, blanketed with the stars and bars--a slave-owner vainly brandishing his whip and shouting to a runaway slave, "come back here, you black rascal." the latter, safe within the shadow of fortress monroe, defiantly places his thumb to his nose, and in allusion to general butler's famous decision, retorts: "can't come back, nohow, massa. dis chile's contraban'." it is not surprising to find that lincoln throughout the struggle was a favorite subject for the caricaturist. his tall, ungainly, loose-knit figure, his homely features, full of noble resolve, seemed to offer a standing challenge to the cartoonist, who usually treated him with indulgent kindness. the exceptions are all the more conspicuous. a case in point is the cartoon commemorating lincoln's first call for volunteers for three months--a period then supposed to be ample for crushing out the rebellion. the artist has represented lincoln as the image of imbecilic dismay, while a union soldier with a sternly questioning gaze relentlessly presents to him a promissory note indorsed, "i promise to subdue the south in 90 days. abe lincoln." a much more typical and kindly cartoon of lincoln is the one representing him as emulating the feat of blondin and crossing the rapids of niagara on a tight-rope, bearing the negro problem on his shoulders, and sustaining his equipoise with the aid of a balancing pole labeled "constitution." [illustration: the promissory note.] the really clever cartoons of this period are so few in number, and stand out so prominently from a mass of second-rate material, that there is real danger of attaching undue importance to them. such a plate as "the southern confederacy a fact! acknowledged by a mighty prince and faithful ally," which was issued by a philadelphia publisher in 1861, although crudely drawn, is one of the very few that show the influence of the early english school. it represents the devil and his assembled cabinet in solemn conclave, receiving the envoys of the southern confederacy. the latter includes, among others, jeff davis, general beauregard, and a personification of "mr. mob law, chief justice." they are bearers of credentials setting forth the fundamental principles of the government, as "treason, rebellion, murder, robbery, incendiarism, theft, etc." satan, interested in spite of himself, is murmuring to his companions, "i am afraid in rascality they will beat us." [illustration: the great tight rope feat.] [illustration: at the throttle.] an effective allegorical cartoon, which appeared at a time when the cause of the union seemed almost hopeless, pictures justice on the rock of the constitution dressed in the stars and stripes and waving an american flag toward a happier scene, where the sun of universal freedom is brightly shining. behind her are hideous scenes of disorder and national disaster. a loathsome serpent, of which the head is called "peace compromise," the body, "mason and dixon's line," and the tail "copperhead," is crawling up the rock seeking to destroy her. in one of its coils it is crushing out the lives of a number of black women and children. in one corner of the cartoon the figure of a winged satan is hovering gleefully over a mob which is hanging a negro to a lamp-post--an allusion to the draft riots in new york. some of the mob are bearing banners with the words "black men have no rights." in the shadowy background of the picture a slaveholder is lashing his slave, tied to a post, with a whip called "lawful stimulant." an unctuous capitalist is talking with a group of secessionists, seated on a rock called "state rights." in contrast with the dark picture on which justice has turned her back is the bright vista of the future, "the union as it will be," into which she is looking. there we see a broad river and a prosperous city. a negress, free and happy, is sewing by her cabin door, her child reading a book upon her knee. [illustration: the expert bartender.] [illustration: the southern confederacy a fact!!! acknowledged by a mighty prince and faithful ally. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the brighter prospect. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] chapter xix the four-years' struggle [illustration: "why don't you take it?"] many of the best cartoons of the period revolve around the rivalry between general mcclellan and general grant, and the incidents of the mcclellan-lincoln campaign of 1864. "the old bull-dog on the right track" is one of the best products of the war cartoonists. it represents grant as a thoroughbred bulldog, seated in dogged tenacity of purpose on the "weldon railroad," and preparing to fight it out on that line, if it takes all summer. at the end of the line is a kennel, labeled "richmond," and occupied by a pack of lean, cowardly hounds, lee, davis, and beauregard among the number, who are yelping: "you aint got the kennel yet, old fellow!" a bellicose little dwarf, mcclellan, is advising the bulldog's master: "uncle abraham, don't you think you had better call the old dog off now? i'm afraid he'll hurt these other dogs, if he catches hold of them!" to which president lincoln serenely rejoins: "why, little mac, that's the same pack of curs that chased you aboard of the gunboat two years ago. they are pretty nearly used up now, and i think it's best to go in and finish them." [illustration: the old bull dog on the right track. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] the conservative policy which marked the military career of general mcclellan and his candidacy for the presidency in 1864 is ridiculed in a cartoon entitled "little mac, in his great two-horse act, in the presidential canvass of 1864." here mcclellan is pictured as a circus rider about to come to grief, owing to the unwillingness of his two steeds to pull together in harmony. a fiery and stalwart horse represents "war"; while peace is depicted as a worthless and broken-down hack. little mac is saying, "curse them balky horses--i can't manage the act nohow. one threw me in virginia, and the other is bound the wrong way." in the background is the figure of lincoln attired as a clown. "you tried to ride them two horses on the peninsula for two years, mac," he calls out, "but it wouldn't work." another striking cartoon of this presidential campaign depicts the republican leaders burying the war democracy. the cartoon is called "the grave of the union," and was drawn by zeke. the hearse is being driven by secretary stanton, who commenced, "my jackasses had a load, but they pulled it through bravely." in harness and attached to the bodies of jackasses are the heads of cochrane, butler, meagher, and dickinson. at the head of the grave, a sort of master of ceremonies, is the familiar figure of horace greeley, saying, "i guess we'll bury it so deep that it will never get up again." by his side is lincoln, who is inquiring, "chase, will it stay down?" to which chase replies, "my god, it must stay down, or we shall go up." the funeral service is being conducted by henry ward beecher, who is carrying a little negro in his arms. "not thy will, o lord, but mine be done." beecher is reading from the book before him. the coffins about to be lowered into the grave are marked respectively "free speech and free press," "habeas corpus," and "union." [illustration: little mac, in his great two horse act, in the presidential canvass of 1864. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] one of the most striking caricatures suggested by the contest between lincoln and mcclellan for the presidency of 1864 is entitled "the abolition catastrophe; or, the november smash-up." it is really nothing more than the old hackneyed idea of the "presidential steeplechase" presented in a new guise. the artist, however, proved himself to be a false prophet. it shows a race to the white house between two trains, in which the one on which lincoln is serving as engineer has just come to destruction on the rocks of "emancipation," "confiscation," and "$400,000,000,000 public debt." the train in the charge of general mcclellan, its locomotive flying the flag "constitution," is running along smoothly and rapidly and is just turning the curve leading up to the door of the white house. mcclellan, watching from his cab the discomfiture of his foe, calls derisively, "wouldn't you like to swap horses now, lincoln?" in the coaches behind are the elated passengers of the democratic train. in striking contrast is the plight in which the republican party is shown. lincoln, thrown up in the air by the shock of the collision, calls back to his rival, "don't mention it, mac, this reminds me of a"--an allusion to the president's fondness for illustrating every argument with a story. from the debris of the wreck of the locomotive peer out the faces of the firemen--two very black negroes. one is calling, "war's de rest ob dis ole darky? dis wot yer call 'mancipation?" and the other, "lor' a'mighty! massa lincum, is dis wot yer call elewating de nigger?" the passengers behind are in an equally unhappy strait. secretary stanton, pinned under the wheels of the first coach, is crying, "oh, dear! if i could telegraph this to dix i'd make it out a victory." among the passengers may be recognized the countenances of beecher, butler, and seward, while blown up in the air is horace greeley, calling out to lincoln that the disaster only verifies the prediction which had been printed in the _tribune_. popular discontent at the unreliability of news of the war found utterance in a skit representing lincoln as a bartender occupied in concocting a mixed drink, called "new york press," which he is dexterously pouring back and forth between two tumblers, labeled respectively "victory" and "defeat." the ingredients are taken from bottles of "bunkum," "bosh," "brag," and "soft sawder." [illustration: the grave of the union. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the abolition catastrophe. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the blockade on the "connecticut plan". _from the collection of the new york historical society._] in the same series as the "abolition catastrophe" is a cartoon entitled "miscegenation; or, the millennium of abolition," intended to depict the possible alarming consequences of proclaiming the whole colored race free and equal. it humorously depicts a scene in which there is absolute social equality between the whites and the blacks. at one end of the picture mr. lincoln is receiving with great warmth and cordiality miss dinah arabella aramintha squash, a negress of unprepossessing appearance, who has as her escort henry ward beecher. at a table nearby horace greeley is treating another gorgeously attired negress to ice cream. two repulsive looking negroes are making violent love to two white women. a passing carriage in charge of a white coachman and two white footmen contains a negro family. in the background, englishmen, frenchmen, and others are expressing their astonishment at the condition in which they find american society. [illustration: miscegenation. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: the confederacy in petticoats. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] the attempt at escape, the apprehension and the incarceration of the president of the confederacy are illustrated in a long series of cartoons. two of the best are "the confederacy in petticoats" and "uncle sam's menagerie." the first deals with the capture of jefferson davis at irwinsville by general wilson's cavalry. davis, attired in feminine dress, is climbing over a fence in order to escape his pursuers. he has dropped his handbag, but he still holds his unsheathed knife. "i thought your government was too magnanimous to hunt down women and children," he calls out to the union soldiers, one of whom has caught him by the skirts and is trying to drag him back. mrs. davis, by her husband's side, is entreating, "don't irritate the president. he might hurt somebody." [illustration: uncle sam's menagerie. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] the cartoon "uncle sam's menagerie" shows davis in captivity at fortress monroe. the confederate president is depicted as a hyena in a cage, playing with a human skull. an uncle sans of the smooth-faced type in which he at first appeared is the showman. round davis's neck is a noose connecting with a huge gallows and the rope is about to be drawn taut, while from an organ below the cage a musician is grinding out the strain, "yankee doodle." in the shape of birds perched on little gallows of their own above the president's cage, each with a noose around his neck, are the figures of the other leaders of the confederacy. a crow is pecking at a grinning skull under which is written "booth." to this skull uncle sam is playfully pointing with his showman's cane. [illustration: protecting free ballot. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] alleged republican intimidation at the poles in the election of 1864 is assailed in a cartoon representing a union soldier about to cast his vote for mcclellan. a thick-lipped negro stands guard over the ballot box, rifle in hand. he presents the point of the bayonet at the soldier's decorated breast. "hallo, dar!" he calls out threateningly, "you can't put in dat, you copper-head traitor, nor any odder, 'cept for massa lincoln." to which the soldier sadly replies, "i am an american citizen and did not think i had fought and bled for this. alas, my country!" a corrupt election clerk is regarding the scene with disquiet. "i'm afraid we shall have trouble if that soldier is not allowed to vote," he says. to which a companion cynically replies, "gammon him, just turn round; you must pretend you see nothing of the kind going on, and keep on counting your votes." [illustration: the nation mourning at lincoln's bier. _by tenniel in "punch."_] chapter xx nations and men in caricature in looking over the historical and political caricature of the nineteenth century, one very naturally finds several different methods of treatment and subdivision suggesting themselves. first, there is the obvious method of chronological order, which is being followed in the present volume, and which commended itself as being at once the simplest and the most comprehensive. it is the one method by which the history of the century may be regarded as the annals of a family of nations--a grotesque family of ill-assorted quadrupeds and still more curious bipeds, stepping forth two by two from the pages of comic art as from the threshold of some modern noah's ark--britannia and the british lion, columbia and uncle sam, india and the bengal tiger, french liberty and the imperial eagle. it is the one method which focuses the attention upon the inter-relation, the significant groupings of these symbolic figures, and disregards their individual and isolated actions. what the russian bear, the british lion, are doing in the seclusion of their respective fastnesses is of vastly less interest than the spectacle of the entire royal menagerie of europe uniting in an effort to hold napoleon at bay. in other words, this method enables us to pass lightly over questions of purely national interest and home policy--the corn laws of england, the tariff issues in the united states--and to keep the eye centered upon the really big dramas of history, played upon an international stage. it subordinates caricature itself to the sequence of great events and great personages. it is the emperor napoleon, his reign and his wars, and not the english caricaturist gillray; it is louis philippe, the bourgeois king, and not philipon and daumier, who form the center of interest. in other words, from the present point of view, the caricature itself is not so much the object looked at as it is a powerful and clairvoyant lens through which we may behold past history in the curiously distorted form in which it was mirrored back by contemporary public opinion. [illustration: figures from a triumph.] [illustration: the diagnosis. "a bad régime during ten years. all your trouble comes from that. you will soon become convalescent with a good constitution and fewer leeches."] other methods, however, might be used effectively, each offering some special advantage of its own. for instance, the whole history of the nineteenth century might be divided, so to speak, geographically. the separate history of each nation might have been followed down in turn--the changing fortunes of england, typified by john bull; of russia in the guise of the bear; of the united states under the forms of the swarthy, smooth-faced jonathan of early days, and the pleasanter uncle sam of recent years; and of france, typified at different times as an eagle, as a gallic cock, as an angry goddess, and as a plump, pleasant-faced woman in a tricolored petticoat. again, if it were desirable to emphasize the development of comic art rather than its influence in history, one might group the separate divisions of the subject around certain schools of caricature, dealing first with gillray, rowlandson, and their fellows among the allied continental nations; passing thence to the caricaturists of 1830, and thence carrying the sequence through leech, cham, tenniel, nast, down to the caricaturists who in the closing years of the century developed the scope of caricature to a hitherto unparalleled extent. still again, the history of the century in caricature might be traced along from some peculiarity, greatly exaggerated, of some great man to another personal peculiarity of some other great man: leaping from the tri-cornered hat of the emperor napoleon to the great nose of the iron duke, then on to the toupet and pear-shaped countenance of louis philippe, the emaciation of abraham lincoln, the grandpa's hat of the harrison administration, the forehead curl of disraeli, the collar of gladstone, the turned-up moustaches of the emperor william, and the prominent teeth of mr. roosevelt. this feature of the caricature seems important enough to justify a brief digression. it forms one of the foundation stones of the art, second only in importance to the conventionalized symbols of the different nations. from the latter the cartoonist builds up the century's history as recorded in its great events. from the former he traces that history as recorded in the personality of its great men. [illustration: the egerean nymph.] [illustration: paul and virginia.] the cartoons in which these different peculiarities of personal appearance are emphasized cover the whole range of caricature, and the whole gamut of public opinion which inspired it. here we may find every degree of malice, from the fierce goggle eyes and diabolical expression which gillray introduced into his portraits of the hated bonaparte down to the harmless exaggeration of the collar points by which furniss good-naturedly satirized the appearance of mr. gladstone. again, in this respect caricature varies much, because all the great men of the century did not offer to the caricaturists the same opportunities in the matter of unusual features or personal eccentricities. [illustration: the first conscript of france.] the authentic portraits and contemporary descriptions of the first napoleon show us that he was a man whose appearance was marred by no particular eccentricity of feature, and that the cartoons of which he is the principal subject are largely allegorical, or inspired by the artist's intensity of hatred. one german caricaturist, by a subtle distortion and a lengthening of the cheeks and chin, introduced a resemblance to a rapacious wolf while preserving something of the real likeness. but in the goggle-eyed monsters of gillray there is nothing save the hat and the uniform which suggests the real napoleon. it was a sort of incarnation of beelzebub which gillray wished to draw and did draw, a monstrosity designed to rouse the superstitious hatred of the ignorant and lower classes of england, and to excite the nation to a warlike frenzy. the caricature aimed at bonaparte's great rival, the conqueror of waterloo, was produced in more peaceful times, was the work of his own countryman, was based mainly on party differences, and, naturally enough, it was in the main good-natured and kindly. wellington in caricature may be summed up by saying that it was all simply an exaggeration of the size of his nose. the _poire_ drawn into resemblance of the countenance of louis philippe was originally innocent enough, and had it been entirely ignored by the monarch and his ministers, would probably have had no political effect, and in the course of a few years been entirely forgotten. but being taken seriously and characterized as seditious, it acquired an exaggerated significance which may almost be said to have led to the revolution of 1848 and the establishment of the second republic. from the rich material offered by our war of secession the caricaturists drew little more than the long, gaunt figure and the scraggy beard of lincoln, and the cigar of general grant. the possibilities of this cigar, as they probably would have been brought out by an artist like daumier, have been suggested in an earlier chapter. it was the goatee of louis napoleon that was exaggerated to give a point to most of the cartoons in which he was a figure, although during the days of his power there were countless caricatures which drew suggestions from the misadventures of his early life, his alleged experiences as a waiter in new york and a policeman in london, his escape from prison in the clothes of the workman badinguet (a name which his political enemies applied to him very freely), and the fiasco at strasburg. no men of their time were more freely caricatured than disraeli in england and thiers in france, for no men offered more to the caricaturist, disraeli being at once a jew and the most exquisite of affected dandies, and thiers being, with the exception of louis blanc, the smallest man of note in france. in one cartoon in _punch_, disraeli was figured as presiding over "fagin's political school." in another he was represented as a hideous oriental peri fluttering about the gates of paradise. thiers's large head and diminutive stature are subjects of countless cartoons, in which he is shown emerging from a wineglass or concealed in a waistcoat pocket, although _punch_ once humorously depicted him as gulliver bound down by the lilliputians. [illustration: the situation. _by gill._] if one were to attempt to draw a broad general distinction between french and english caricature throughout the century, it would be along the line of english superiority in the matter of satirizing great events, french superiority in satirizing great men. the english cartoonists triumphed in the art of crowded canvases and effective groupings; the french in seizing upon the salient feature of face or form, and by a grotesque distortion, a malicious quirk, fixing upon their luckless subject a brand of ridicule that refused to be forgotten. although the fashion of embodying fairly recognizable portraits of prominent statesmen in caricatures became general in england early in the century, for a long time the effect was marred by their lack of facial expression. from situations of all sorts, ranging from high comedy to deadly peril and poignant suffering, the familiar features of british statesmen look forth placid, unconcerned, with the fixed, impersonal stare of puppets in a punch-and-judy show. no french artist ever threw away his opportunities in such a foolish, spendthrift manner. even where the smooth, regular features of some especially characterless face gave little or nothing for a satiric pencil to seize upon, a daumier or a gill would manufacture a ludicrous effect through the familiar device of a giant's head on a dwarf's body, or the absurdly distorted reflection of a cylindrical mirror. but by the time hostilities broke out between france and prussia facial caricature had become an important factor in the british school of satire, as exemplified in the weekly pages of _punch_. chapter xxi the outbreak of the franco-prussian war [illustration: louis blanc.] [illustration: rival arbiters. napoleon and bismarck at the time of the austro-prussian war. _by tenniel in punch._] this was very natural, because the history of these years was largely a history of individuals. during the years between the close of the civil war and the outbreak of war between france and prussia the three dominant figures in european political caricature were the french emperor, prince bismarck, and benjamin disraeli. since 1848, louis napoleon had been the most widely caricatured man in europe; and the outcome of the war of 1866 had raised bismarck, as the pilot of the prussian ship of state, to an importance second only to napoleon himself. the caricature of which disraeli was the subject was necessarily much narrower in its scope, and confined to a great extent to england. it was not until the century's eighth decade that he received full recognition at the hands of the continental caricaturists, and his prominence in the cartoons preceding the franco-prussian war was due to the prestige of _punch_, and to the opportunity which his own peculiar personality and striking appearance offered to the caricaturists. it was not long after the fall of richmond and the end of the war that the agitation over the claims of the united states against england on account of the damage done by the warship _alabama_, a question which was not settled until a number of years later, began. the two powers for a time could not agree on any scheme of arbitration, and the condition of affairs in the autumn of 1865 was summed up by tenniel in _punch_, in a cartoon entitled "the disputed account," in which the united states and england are represented as two haggling women and madame britannia is haughtily saying: "claim for damages against me? nonsense, columbia! don't be mean over money matters." but england, as well as america, had other matters besides the _alabama_ claims to disturb her and to keep busy the pencils of her cartoonists. besides purely political issues at home, there were the jamaica troubles and fenianism: and the french emperor was very urgent that stronger extradition treaties should be established between the two countries. this last issue was cleverly hit off by _punch_ in a cartoon which pictures britannia showing napoleon the third a portrait of himself as he appeared in 1848 and saying: "that, sire, is the portrait of a gentleman whom i should have had to give up to the french government had i always translated 'extradition' as your majesty's lawyers now wish." the agitation over the jamaica troubles died out, the threatened fenian invasion of canada came to nothing, louis napoleon withdrew the french troops from mexico, and the eyes of europe were directed toward the war cloud hovering over prussia and austria. early in june, 1866, there was a cessation of diplomatic relations between the two countries, followed immediately by a declaration of war on the part of prussia, whose armies straightway entered saxony and hanover. the attitude of england and france toward the belligerents was the subject of _punch's_ cartoon that week. it was called "honesty and policy," and shows britannia and napoleon discussing the situation, while in the background the prussian king and the austrian emperor are shaking their fists in each other's faces. britannia confides regretfully to napoleon: "well, i've done my best. if they must smash each other, they must." and the french emperor says in a gleeful aside: "and someone may pick up the pieces!" the same figure of speech is further developed in a later cartoon which appeared in august, during the negotiations for peace. napoleon iii., in the guise of a ragpicker, is being warned off the königstrasse by bismarck: "pardon, mon ami, but we really can't allow you to pick up anything here;" and "nap. the chiffonnier" rejoins: "pray, don't mention it, m'sieu! it's not of the slightest consequence." [illustration: the man who laughs. _by andré gill._] [illustration: the man who thinks. _by andré gill._] [illustration: "to be or not to be." _by gill._] [illustration: achilles in retreat. _by gill._] after the battle of sadowa, austria accepted readily the offer of the french emperor to bring about a suspension of hostilities, the emperor of austria agreeing to cede venetia, which was handed over to france, as a preliminary to its cession to italy. tenniel pictured this event in a cartoon showing napoleon acting as the temporary keeper of the lion of st. mark's. bismarck was now becoming a conspicuous figure in european politics, and his rivalry to napoleon is shown in a _punch_ cartoon entitled "rival arbiters," which appeared about this time. [illustration: the president of rhodes. _by daumier._] the growing spirit of discontent in france during the year or two immediately preceding the franco-prussian war was made the subject of some excellent _punch_ cartoons. one of these, called "easing the curb," appeared in july, 1869. the imperial rule was gradually becoming unpopular, and the opposition gaining in strength and boldness. the emperor found it prudent to announce that it was his intention to grant to the french chamber a considerable extension of power. in "easing the curb," _punch_ depicts france as a horse drawing the imperial carriage. within are the empress and the prince imperial, evidently greatly alarmed. napoleon is standing at the horse's head, calling out: "have no fear, my dears. i shall just drop ze curb a leetel." in another cartoon a few months later, napoleon the third is shown wearing the crown of king john, and surrounded by a group of persistent barons, signing a magna charta for france. [illustration: a tempest in a glass of water. _by gill._] in the pages of _punch_ from july, 1870, until the spring of 1871, one may follow very closely the history of the franco-prussian war and of the commune. the first of the cartoons on this subject, published just before the declaration of war, is entitled "a duel to the death." in it the king of prussia and the french emperor are shown as duellists, sword in hand, while britannia is endeavoring to act as mediator. "pray stand back, madam," says napoleon. "you mean well, but this is an old family quarrel and we must fight it out." _punch_ seemed to have an early premonition of what the result of the war would be, for, before any decisive battle had been fought, it published a striking cartoon entitled "a vision on the way," representing the shade of the great napoleon confronting the emperor and his son on the warpath, and bidding them "beware!" the departure of the prince imperial to the front is made the subject of a very pretty and pathetic cartoon called "two mothers." it shows the empress bidding farewell to her son, while france, as another weeping mother, is saying: "ah, madam, a sure happiness for _you_, sooner or later; but there were dear sons of _mine_ whom i shall never see again." [illustration: a duel to the death. _by tenniel in "punch."_] chapter xxii the débâcle [illustration: france, september 4, 1870. "aux armes, citoyens, formez vos bataillons."] after the unimportant engagement at saarbrück disaster began falling thick and fast on the french arms, and soon we find _punch_ taking up again the idea of the two monarchs as rival duelists. by this time the duel has been decided. louis napoleon, sorely wounded and with broken sword, is leaning against a tree. "you have fought gallantly, sir," says the king. "may i not hear you say you have had enough?" to which the emperor replies: "i have been deceived about my strength. i have no choice." with sedan, the downfall of the empire, and the establishment of the republic, france ceased to be typified under the form of louis napoleon. henceforth she became an angry, blazing-eyed woman, calling upon her sons to rise and repel the advance of the invader. the cartoon in _punch_ commemorating september 4, 1870, when the emperor was formally deposed and a provisional government of national defense established under the presidency of general trochu, with gambetta, favre, and jules ferry among its leading members, shows her standing erect by the side of a cannon, the imperial insignia trampled beneath her feet, waving aloft the flag of the republic, and shouting from the "marseillaise": "aux armes, citoyens, formez vos bataillons!" [illustration: her baptism of fire. _by tenniel in "punch."_] [illustration: andré gill.] the announcement that the german royal headquarters was to be removed to versailles, and that the palace of louis xiv. was to shelter the prussian king surrounded by his conquering armies, drew from tenniel the cartoon in which he showed the german monarch seated at his table in the palace studying the map of paris, while in the background are the ghosts of louis xiv. and the great napoleon. the ghost of the grand monarque is asking sadly: "is this the end of 'all the glories'?" the sufferings of paris during the siege are summed up in a cartoon entitled "germany's ally," in which the figure of famine is laying its cold, gaunt hand on the head of the unhappy woman typifying the stricken city. the beginning of the bombardment was commemorated in a cartoon entitled "her baptism of fire," showing the grim and bloody results of the falling of the first shells. the whole tone of _punch_ after the downfall of the emperor shows a growing sympathy on the part of the english people toward france, and the feeling in england that germany, guided by the iron hand of bismarck, was exacting a cruel and unjust penalty entirely out of proportion. this belief that the terms demanded by the germans were harsh and excessive is shown in the _punch_ cartoon "excessive bail," where justice, after listening to bismarck's argument, says that she cannot "sanction a demand for exorbitant securities." [illustration: le marquis aux talons rouges. _by willette._ the marquis de galliffet will be remembered as the french minister of war during the second dreyfus trial. it was willette's famous cartoon of queen victoria which stirred up so much ill feeling during the boer war.] [illustration: the history of a reign. _by daumier in "charivari."_] [illustration: "this has killed that." _by daumier in "charivari."_] french caricature during "the terrible year" which saw gravelotte, sedan, and the downfall of the empire was necessarily somber and utterly lacking in french gayety. it was not until the tragic days of the siege and the commune that the former strict censorship of the french press was relaxed, and the floodgates were suddenly opened for a veritable inundation of cartoons. m. armand dayot, in his admirable pictorial history of this epoch, which has already been frequently cited in the present volume, says in this connection: "it has been said with infinite justice that when art is absent from caricature nothing remains but vulgarity." in proof of this, one needs only to glance through the albums containing the countless cartoons that appeared during the siege, and more especially during the commune. aside from those signed by daumier, cham, andré gill, and a few other less famous artists, they are unclean compositions, without design or wit, odious in color, the gross stupidity of their legends rivaling their lamentable poverty of execution. but under the leadership of daumier, the small group of artists who infused their genius into the weekly pages of _charivari_, made these tragic months one of the famous periods in the annals of french caricature. of the earlier generation, the irrepressible group whose mordant irony had hastened the down fall of louis philippe, daumier alone survived to chronicle by his pencil the disasters which befell france, with a talent as great as he had possessed thirty-odd years before, when engaged in his light-hearted and malicious campaign against the august person of louis philippe. then there were the illustrious "cham" (comte de noë), and andré gill (a caricaturist of striking wit), hadol, de bertall, de pilopel, faustin, draner, and a number of others not so well known. but, above all, it was daumier who, after twenty years of the empire, during which his pencil had been politically idle, returned in his old age to the fray with all the vigor of the best days of _la caricature_. [illustration: the mouse-trap and its victims. _by daumier in "charivari."_] [illustration: prussia annexes alsace. _by cham in "charivari."_] [illustration: "oh, no! prussia has not completely slain her. it is not yet time to go to her aid." _by cham in "charivari."_] [illustration: "adieu!" "no, 'au revoir.' visits must be returned." _by cham._] yet to those whose sympathies were with france during the struggle of 1870-71, there is a distinct pathos in the change that is seen in the later work of daumier--not a personal pathos, but a pathos due to the changed condition of the country which it reflects. the old dauntless audacity, the trenchant sarcasm, the mocking, light-hearted laughter, is gone. in its place is the haunting bitterness of an old man, under the burden of an impotent wrath--a man who, for all that he dips his pencil in pure vitriol, cannot do justice to the nightmare visions that beset him. there is no better commentary upon the pervading feeling of helpless anger and outraged national pride of this epoch than in these haunting designs of daumier's. they are the work of a man tremulous with feverish indignation, weird and ghastly conceptions, such as might have emanated from the caldron of macbeth's witches. the backgrounds are filled in with solid black, like a funeral pall; and from out the darkness the features of bismarck, of von moltke, of william i., leer malevolently, distorted into hideous, ghoulish figures--vampires feasting upon the ruin they have wrought. french liberty, in the guise of a wan, emaciated, despairing figure, the personification of a wronged and outraged womanhood, haunts daumier's pages. at one time she is standing, bound and gagged, between the gaping muzzles of two cannon marked, respectively, "paris, 1851," and "sedan, 1870," and underneath the laconic legend, "histoire d'un règne." [illustration: souvenirs and regrets. _by aranda._] another cartoon shows france as a female prometheus bound to the rock, her vitals being torn by the germanic vulture. a number of these cartoons, all of which appeared in _la charivari_, treat bitterly of the disastrous results of the twenty years during which louis napoleon was the emperor of the french. the sketch called "this has killed that" has allusion to the popular ballot which elected the prince-president to the throne. a gaunt, angry female figure is pointing with one hand to the ballot-box, in which repose the "ours" which made louis napoleon an emperor, and with the other to the corpses on the battlefield where the sun of his empire finally sets. "this," she cries, "has killed that." the same idea suggested a somewhat similar cartoon, in which a french peasant, gazing at the shell-battered ruins of his humble home, exclaims in the peasant's ungrammatical _patois_: "and it was for this that i voted 'yes.'" still more grim and ominous is the cartoon showing a huge mouse-trap with three holes. the mouse-trap represents the plebiscite. two of the holes, marked respectively, "1851" and "1870," have been sprung, and each has caught the throat of a victim. the third, however, still yawns open warningly, with the date not completely filled in. [illustration: the show of the napoleonic mountebanks. _from a caricature by hadol._] [illustration: prussia introducing the new national assembly to france. _by daumier in "charivari."_] [illustration: "let us eat the prussian." _by andré gill._] still another cartoon, thoroughly characteristic of daumier's later manner, is "the dream of bismarck," one which touches upon the idea which has been used allegorically in connection with every great conqueror whose wake is marked by the strewn corpses of fallen thousands. in it bismarck, frightfully haggard and ghastly of countenance, is sleeping in his chair, while at his side is the grim figure of death bearing a huge sickle and pointing out over the bloody battlefield. of the younger group of cartoonists none is more closely connected with the events of the _année terrible_ than "cham," the comte de noë. the name noë, it will be remembered, is french for noah, just as cham is the french equivalent of ham, second son of the patriarch of scripture. the comte de noë was also second son of his father, hence the appropriateness of his pseudonym. as a caricaturist, cham was animated by no such seriousness of purpose as formed the inspiration of daumier; and this was why he never became a really great caricaturist. it was the humorous side of life, even of the tragedies of life, that appealed to him, and he reflected it back with an incisive drollery which was irresistible. he was one of the most rapid and industrious of workers, and found in the events of _l'année terrible_ the inspiration of a vast number of cartoons. the looting propensities of the prussians were satirized in a sketch showing two prussian officers looking greedily at a clock on the mantelpiece in a french château. "let us take the clock." "but peace has already been signed." "no matter. don't you see the clock is slow?" the german acquisition of the rhenish provinces is summed up in a picture which shows a german officer attaching to his leg a chain, at the end of which is a huge ball marked alsace. the siege having turned every parisian into a nominal soldier, this condition of affairs is hit off by cham in a cartoon underneath which is written: "everybody being soldiers, the officers will have the right to put through the paces anyone whom they meet in the streets." the sketch shows a cook in the usual culinary costume, and bearing on his head a flat basket filled with kettles and pans, marking time at the command of an officer. the attitude of england during the war seemed to the caricaturist perfidious, after the practical aid which france had rendered albion in the crimea. cham hits this off by representing the two nations as women, britannia looking ironically at prostrate france and saying: "oh, no! prussia has not yet entirely killed her! so it is not yet time to go to her aid." [illustration: new design for a hand bell proposed by "charivari" for the purpose of reminding the assembly that prussian troops still hold french territory.] [illustration: germany: "farewell, madame, and if--" france: "ha! we shall meet again!"] the statesmen and warriors of that period were very happily caricatured in a series of cartoons, most of which appeared in _l'éclipse_. gill excelled in his caricature of individual men rather than in the caricature of events or groups. his real name was louis alexandre gosset. he was born at landouzy-li-ville, october 19, 1840, and died in paris, december 29, 1885. thiers, gambetta, louis blanc, all the men of the time, were hit off by his pencil. his method in most cases consisted of the grotesque exaggeration of the subject's head at the expense of the body. he was especially happy in his caricature of thiers, whose diminutive size, as well as his great importance, made him a favorite subject for the cartoonist. thiers as hamlet soliloquizing, "to be or not to be"; thiers as "the man who laughs"; the head of thiers peering over the rim of a glass, "a tempest in a glass of water"; thiers as the first conscript of france; thiers as achilles in retreat--all these and countless others are from the pencil of gill. [illustration: bismarck the first.] [illustration: trochu--1870.] a striking satirical sketch by hadol, entitled "la parade," sums up all the buffooneries of the second empire. in it the duc de morny as the barking showman is violently inviting the populace to enter and inspect the wonders of the théâtre badinguet. badinguet, as said before, was the name of the workman in whose clothes louis napoleon was said to have escaped from his imprisonment at ham; and throughout the second empire it was the name by which the parisians maliciously alluded to the emperor. behind de morny in the cartoon are the emperor and empress, seated at the cashier's desk at the entrance of the theater to take in the money of the dupes whom de morny can persuade to enter. to the right and left, in grotesque attire, are the actors of the show, representing the various statesmen and soldiers whose names were connected with the reign. [illustration: bazaine. _by faustin._] [illustration: rochefort.] popular hatred of marshal bazaine after the surrender of metz, based on the prevalent belief that he had sold the city and the army under his command to the germans, finds pictorial expression in the grim cartoon by faustin, reproduced here. the artist has cunningly drawn into the features of the marshal an expression of unutterable craft and treachery. round his neck there has been flung what at the first glance seems like a decoration of honor, an impression strengthened by the cross and inscription on his breast. but as you look more closely you perceive that this decoration is suspended from the noose of the hangman's rope, and that the words "au maréchal bazaine--la france reconnaissante" have another and a deeper significance. the defender of the city of paris, general trochu, was genially caricatured by andré gill in _l'éclipse_ as a _blanchisseuse_ industriously ironing out the dirty linen of france. however great his popularity was at the time, trochu has by no means escaped subsequent criticism. to him the resistance of paris seemed nothing but "an heroic folly," and he had no hesitation about proclaiming his opinion. another exceedingly happy caricature by andré gill was that representing henri rochefort, the implacable enemy of louis napoleon, as a member of the government of the national defense. here rochefort's head is shown peering out of the mouth of a cannon projecting through a hole in the city's fortifications. [illustration: entrée solennelle de l'empereur d'allemagne à paris. (caricature de félix régamey.)] part iv _the end of the century_ chapter xxiii the evolution of american caricature during the period covered by the present chapter the foundation of the two leading american comic weeklies, _puck_ and _judge_, the former in 1877 and the latter in 1881, led to a distinct advance in political caricature in this country. it also made it possible for the first time to draw an intelligent comparison between the tendencies of caricature in england and in america. no one can look over the early files of _puck_ and _judge_ and compare them with _punch_ for the corresponding years without being struck with the contrast, not merely in methods of drawing and printing, but in the whole underlying spirit. for the past half century _punch_ has adhered faithfully to its original attitude of neutrality upon questions of party politics. its aim has been to represent the weight of public opinion in a sober and conservative spirit; to discountenance and rebuke the excesses of whichever party is in power; to commemorate the great national calamities, as well as the occasions of national rejoicings. if it somewhat overstepped its established bounds in its repeated attacks upon lord beaconsfield because his foreign policy was regarded with distrust, it made amends with an eloquent tribute at the time of that statesman's death. and if on one occasion it cartooned him in the guise of the melancholy dane, with broad impartiality it travestied his great rival, gladstone, a month or two later, in precisely the same character. taken as a whole, the english cartoons are not so distinctly popular in tone as those in this country. the underlying thought is apt to be more cultured, more bookish, so to speak; to take the form of parodies upon shakspere and dante, dickens and scott. and yet, taking them all in all, it would be difficult to point out any parallel series of cartoons which, after the lapse of years, require so little explanation to make them intelligible, or which cover in so comprehensive a manner the current history of the world. [illustration: caran d'ache.] [illustration: gulliver crispi. _from "il papagallo" (rome)._] on the other hand, the typical american cartoon of a generation ago concerned itself but little with questions of international interest, while in its treatment of domestic affairs it was largely lacking in the dignity and restraint which characterized the british school. being founded upon party politics, its purpose was primarily not to reflect public opinion, but to mold it; to make political capital; to win votes by fair means, if possible, but to win them. from their very inception _puck_ and _judge_, as the mouthpieces of their respective parties, have exerted a formidable power, whose far-reaching influence it would be impossible to gauge, especially during the febrile periods of the presidential campaigns. at these times the animosity shown in some of the cartoons seems rather surprising, when looked at from the sober vantage ground of later years. political molehills were exaggerated into mountains, and even those elements of vulgar vituperation and cheap personal abuse--features of political campaigns which we are happily outgrowing--were eagerly seized upon for the purpose of pictorial satire. the peculiar bitterness which marked the memorable campaign between mr. cleveland and mr. blaine in 1884 was strongly mirrored in the political caricature of the time. it marked the highwater line of the element of purely personal abuse in comic art. in the end the extreme measures to which each of the rival parties resorted during that year had very beneficial effects, for after the election the nation, in calmer mood, grew ashamed at the thought of its violence and bitterness, and subsequent campaigns have consequently been much more free from these objectionable features. mr. harrison, mr. bryan, mr. mckinley, and mr. roosevelt have all been assailed from many different points. but we are no longer in the mood to tolerate attempts to rake up alleged personal scandals and to use them in the pamphlet and the cartoon. enough of this was done by both parties in 1884 to last us for at least a generation. there are cartoons which appeared in _puck_ and _judge_ which even at this day we should not think of reprinting, and which the publications containing them and the artists who drew them would probably like to forget. [illustration: fig. 291. caricature de gill. (_éclipse_, 19 octobre 1873.)] nevertheless, to the close student of political history there is in the american cartoon of this period, with all its flamboyant colorings, its reckless exaggeration, its puerile animosity, material which the more sober and dignified british cartoon does not offer. it does not sum up so adequately the sober second thought of the nation, but it does keep us in touch with the changing mood of popular opinion, its varying pulse-beat from hour to hour. to glance over the old files throughout any one of the presidential campaigns is the next best thing to living them over again, listening once more to the daily heated arguments, the inflammable stump speeches, the rancorous vituperation which meant so much at the time, and which seemed so idle the day after the election. chapter xxiv the third french republic [illustration: "poor france! the branches are broken, but the trunk still holds." _by daumier in "charivari."_] it is not strange that during these years american cartoonists concerned themselves but little with matters outside of their own country. for more than a decade after the close of the franco-prussian war there were very few episodes which assumed international importance, and still fewer in which the united states had any personal interest. france was amply occupied in recovering from the effects of her exhaustive struggle; united germany was undergoing the process of crystallizing into definite form. europe, as a whole, had no more energy than was needed to attend to domestic affairs and to keeping a jealous eye upon english ambition in egypt and russian aggression in the balkan states. for some little time after the french commune echoes of that internecine struggle were still to be found in the work of caricaturists, both in france and germany. before taking final leave of that veteran french artist, honoré daumier, it seems necessary to allude briefly to a few of the cartoons of that splendidly tragic series of his old age dealing with the france which, having undergone the horrors of the germanic invasion and of the commune, is shattered but not broken, and begins to look forward with wistful eyes to a time when she shall have recovered her strength and her prosperity. one of the most striking of these cartoons represents france as a deep-rooted tree which has been bent and rent by the passing whirlwind. "poor france! the branches are broken, but the trunk holds always." simple as the design is, the artist by countless touches of light and of shadow has given it a somber significance which long remains in the memory. it was to napoleon that daumier bitterly ascribed the misfortunes of _la patrie_, and in these cartoons he lost no opportunity of attacking napoleonic legend. stark and dead, nailed to the book of history is the imperial eagle. "you will remain outside, nailed fast on the cover, a hideous warning to future generations of frenchmen," is daumier's moral. of brighter nature is the cartoon called "the new year." it represents the dawning of 1872, and portrays france sweeping away the last broken relics of her period of disaster. [illustration: "you shall stay there, nailed to the cover, a warning to future generations of frenchmen." _by daumier in "charivari."_] in germany, also, one finds a few tardy cartoons bearing upon napoleon iii. even in the _fliegende blätter_, a periodical which throughout its history has confined itself, with few exceptions, to social satire, perennial skits upon the dignified herr professor, the self-important young lieutenant, the punctilious university student, one famous cartoon appeared late in the year 1871, entitled "the root of all evil." it portrayed napoleon iii., as a gigantic, distorted vegetable of the carrot or turnip order, his flabby features distended into tuberous rotundity, the familiar hall-mark of his sweeping mustache and imperial lengthened grotesquely into the semblance of a threefold root. still better known is a series of cartoons which ran through half a dozen numbers of the _fliegende blätter_, entitled "the franco-prussian war: a tragedy in five acts," in which the captions are all clever applications of lines from schiller's "maid of orleans". as compared with the work of really great cartoonists, this series has little to make it memorable. but as an expression of a victorious nation's good-natured contempt, its tendency to view the whole fierce struggle of 1870-71 as an amusing farce enacted by a company of grotesque marionettes, it is not without significance and interest. [illustration: the new year brings new hope for france. _by daumier in "charivari."_] [illustration: "the root of all evil." _from the "fliegende blätter" in 1871._] almost as germanic in sentiment and in execution as the "maid of orleans" series in the _fliegende blätter_ was the curious little volume entitled "the fight at dame europa's school," written and illustrated by thomas nast. this skit, which was printed in new york after the close of the war, contained thirty-three drawings which are remarkable chiefly in that they are comparatively different from anything else that nast ever did and bear a striking resemblance to the war cartoons of the german papers. the louis napoleon of this book is so much like the louis napoleon of the _fliegende blätter_ that one is bound to feel that one was the direct inspiration of the other. the text of the book, though nothing astonishing, serves its purpose in elucidating the drawings. it tells of the well-ordered educational establishment kept by dame europa in which the five largest boys acted as monitors, to keep the unruly pupils in order. these boys were louis, william, aleck, joseph, and john. if a dispute arose among any of the smaller boys, the monitors had to examine into its cause, and, if possible, to settle it amicably. should it be necessary to fight the matter out, they were to see fair play, stop the encounter when it had gone far enough, and at all times to uphold justice, and to prevent tyranny and bullying. in this work master louis and master john were particularly prominent. there was a tradition in the school of a terrific row in times past, when a monitor named nicholas attacked a very dirty little boy called constantine. john and louis pitched in, and gave nicholas such a thrashing that he never got over it, and soon afterward left the school. now each of the upper boys had a little garden of his own in which he took great pride and interest. in the center of each garden there was an arbor, fitted up according to the taste and means of its owner. louis had the prettiest arbor of all, while that of john was a mere tool-house. when the latter wished to enjoy a holiday he would punt himself across the brook and enjoy himself in the arbor of his friend louis. by the side of louis's domain was that of william, who, though proud of his own garden, never went to work in it without casting an envious glance on two little flower beds which now belonged to louis, but which ought by rights he thought to belong to him. over these flower beds he often talked with his favorite fag, a shrewd lad named mark, full of deep tricks and dodges. [illustration: the whole spirit of these pictures, which appeared in the _fliegende blätter_ after the napoleonic downfall in 1871, is a travesty on the splendid lines of schiller in the "maid of orleans" (jungfrau von orleans).] [illustration: fig. 294. la situation politique en france. (novembre 1873.) caricature de félix régamey, publiée dans le _harper's weekly_ de new-york.] "there is only one way to do it," said mark. "if you want the flower beds, you must fight louis for them, and i believe you will lick him all to smash; but you must fight him alone." "how do you mean?" replied william. "i mean, you must take care that the other monitors don't interfere in the quarrel. if they do, they will be sure to go against you. remember what a grudge joseph owes you for the licking you gave him not along ago; and aleck, though to be sure louis took little constantine's part against him in that great bullying row, is evidently beginning to grow jealous of your influence in the school. you see, old fellow, you have grown so much lately, and filled out so wonderfully that you are getting really quite formidable. why, i recollect the time when you were quite a little chap!" thereupon the astute mark designs a plan by which william may provoke the encounter while making louis seem the aggressor. and so on, under the guise of fistfight between two schoolboys, nast tells of all the events of the struggle of 1871; the outbreak of hostilities, the baptism of fire, sedan, the german march on paris, the siege, and the different attitudes assumed by the other monitors. chapter xxv general european affairs [illustration: "new crowns for old." disraeli offering victoria the imperial crown of india.] punch, however, is really the most satisfactory and comprehensive source for the history of political caricature during the years following the siege of paris down to 1886. from the indefatigable pencil of tenniel and sambourne we get an exhaustive and pungent record of the whole period of disraeli's ascendency, the fruits of his much-criticised foreign policy, england's attitude regarding the suez canal, her share in the turco-russian conflict, her acquisition of the island of cyprus, the fall of khartoum, the fenian difficulties of 1885, and the history of mr. gladstone's home rule policy. [illustration: "tightening the grip."] throughout the cartoons of this period there is no one figure which appears with more persistent regularity than that of lord beaconsfield, and with scarcely an exception he is uniformly treated with an air of indulgent contempt. of course, his strongly marked features, the unmistakably semitic cast of nose and lips, the closely curled black ringlets clustering above his ears, all offered irresistible temptation to the cartoonist, with the result that throughout the entire series, in whatever guise he is portrayed, the suggestion of charlatan, of necromancer, of mountebank, of one kind or another of the endless genus "fake," is never wholly absent. even in tenniel's cartoon, "new crowns for old," which commemorates the passage of the royal titles bill, conferring upon the queen the title of empress of india, the scene is confessedly adapted from aladdin, and "dizzy" is portrayed as a slippery oriental with an oily smile, in the act of trading a gaudy-looking piece of tinsel headgear for the more modest, but genuine, regal crown topped with the cross of malta. the bestowal of the title of earl of beaconsfield upon mr. disraeli, which followed within a very few weeks, was too good a chance for satire for mr. tenniel to let pass, and he hit it off in a page entitled "one good turn deserves another," in which victoria, with the imperial crown of india upon her head, is conferring a coronet upon "dizzy," kneeling obsequiously at her feet. [illustration: æolus--ruler of the storms. the easterly wind too much for bismarck.] [illustration: "l'état c'est moi!"] at this time the one international question which bade fair to assume any considerable importance was that of russia's attitude in the balkan peninsula. already in june, 1886, we find _punch_ portraying the czar of russia as a master of the hounds, just ready to let slip the leash from his "dogs of war." servia, montenegro, bosnia, and herzegovina, in pursuit of the unsuspecting sultan of turkey, while john bull in the guise of a policeman, is cautiously peering from behind a fence, evidently wondering whether this is a case which calls for active interference. it is only a few days later that the outbreak of an insurrection in bosnia and herzegovina hastens a decision on the part of europe to "keep the ring" and let the sultan ward off the "dogs of war" single-handed--an incident duly commemorated in _punch_ on june 19. the turkish atrocities in bulgaria, however, aroused public sentiment throughout the continent to such a degree that the powers united in demanding an armistice. tenniel's interpretation of this incident takes the form of a sick-chamber, in which the sick man of europe is surrounded by a corps of illustrious physicians, drs. bull, william i., francis joseph and company, who are firmly insisting that their patient shall swallow a huge pill labeled "armistice"--"or else there's no knowing what might happen!" the protocol on turkish affairs which soon after this was proposed by russia and supported by disraeli, forms the subject of two suggestive cartoons in _punch_. the first, entitled "pons asinorum," depicts the protocol as a make-shift bridge supported on the docile shoulders of john bull and the other european powers, and spanning a lagoon entitled "eastern question." over this bridge the russian bear is stealthily crawling to his desired goal, his eye half closed in a sly wink, his sides bristling like a veritable arsenal with weapons. the second cartoon, alluding to the porte's rejection of the protocol, represents disraeli looking disconsolately upon a smoldering pile of powder kegs and ammunition, over which he has placed the protocol, twisted into the shape of a candle-snuffer. "confound the thing! it is all ablaze!" he ejaculates, while lord hartington reminds him, "ah, my dear d., paper will burn, you know!" [illustration: the hidden hand.] [illustration: the irish frankenstein.] the next significant caricature in the _punch_ series belongs to the period of actual hostilities between turkey and russia, after plevna had been completely invested and the turks were at all points being steadily beaten back. this caricature, entitled "tightening the grip," showing the struggling turk being slowly crushed to death in the relentless hug of the gigantic bear, may safely be left to speak for itself without further description. meanwhile, england was watching with growing disquiet russia's actions in the balkans. in one cartoon of this period, mr. bull is bluntly refusing to be drawn into a game of "blind hookey" with the other european powers. "now then, mr. bull, we're only waiting for you," says russia; and john bull rejoins: "thank you, i don't like the game. i like to see the cards!" prince bismarck at this time was doing his best to bring about an understanding between england and russia, but the difficulties of the situation threatened to prove too much even for that veteran diplomat. _punch_ cleverly hit off the situation by representing bismarck æolus, the wind-god, struggling desperately with an unmanageable wind-bag, which is swelling threateningly in the direction of the east and assuming the form of a dangerous war-cloud. eventually all misunderstandings were peacefully smoothed away at the berlin congress, which tenniel commemorates with a cartoon showing "dizzy" in the guise of a tight-rope performer triumphantly carrying the sultan on his shoulders along a rope labeled "congress," his inherent double-dealing being suggested by his balancing pole, which he sways back and forth indifferently, and the opposite ends of which are labeled "peace" and "war." [illustration: the daring duckling. june, 1883. an early appearance of mr. chamberlain in caricature.] comparatively few cartoons of this period touch upon american matters. all the more noteworthy is the one which mr. tenniel dedicated to the memory of president garfield at the time of the latter's assassination. it is a worthy example of the artist's most serious manner, at once dignified and impressive. it bears the inscription, "a common sorrow," and shows a weeping columbia clasped closely in the arms of a sorrowing and sympathetic britannia. [illustration: settling the alabama claims.] m. gambetta seldom received attention at the hands of english caricaturists; but in 1881, when the resignation of jules ferry and his colleagues resulted in the formation of a new ministry with gambetta at the head, and both english and german newspapers were sarcastically saying that "the gambetta cabinet represented only himself," _punch_ had to have his little fling at the french statesman, portraying him as beaming with self-complacence, and striking an attitude in front of a statue of louis xiv., while he echoes the latter's famous dictum, "l'état c'est moi!" [illustration: _mirage._ gordon waiting at khartoum.] two cartoons which tell their own story are devoted to fenianism. the first commemorates the phoenix park outrage in which lord frederick cavendish, the newly appointed chief secretary, lost his life. the cartoon is called "the irish frankenstein," and is certainly baleful enough to do full justice to the hideousness of the crime it is intended to symbolize. the second cartoon, entitled "the hidden hand," shows the fenian monster receiving a bag of gold from a mysterious hand stretched from behind a curtain. the reference is to a supposed inner circle of assassins, directed and paid by greater villains who kept themselves carefully behind the scenes. the tragedy of khartoum formed the subject of several grim and forceful pages. "mirage" was almost prophetic in its conception, representing general gordon gazing across the desert, where, by the tantalizing refraction of the air, he can plainly see the advancing british hosts, which in reality are destined to arrive too late. "too late," in fact, are the very words which serve as a caption of the next cartoon. khartoum has fallen, and britannia, having come upon a fruitless mission, stands a picture of despair, her face buried upon her arm, her useless shield lying neglected upon the ground. chapter xxvi thomas nast it was not until late in the '60's, when thomas nast began his pictorial campaign in the pages of _harper's weekly_ against the ring which held new york in its clutches, that american caricature could claim a pencil which entitled it to any sort of consideration from the artistic point of view. some of the cartoons which have been reproduced in earlier papers of this series have possessed unquestionable cleverness of invention and idea; for instance, many of those dealing with president jackson's administration and his relations with the united states bank, and some of the purely allegorical cartoons treating of slavery and of the civil war. but in all these there was so much lacking; so many artistic shortcomings were covered up by the convenient loops. the artists felt themselves free from any obligation to give expression to the countenances of their subjects so long as the fundamental idea was there, and the loops offered an easy vehicle for the utterance of thoughts and feelings which a modern artist would feel obliged to express in the drawing itself--by a skillful quirk of the pencil, an added line, an exaggerated smile or frown. it was a thoroughly wooden school of caricature, in which one can find no trace of the splendid suggestion which the caricaturists should at that time have been drawing from contemporary masters of the art in france and england. [illustration: the gratz brown tag to greeley's coat.] [illustration: thomas nast.] although during the years of his fecundity thomas nast drew many cartoons bearing on events of international importance, his name will always be remembered, first of all, in connection with the series through which he held up the extravagances and iniquities of the tweed ring in the pillory of public opinion. he had decided convictions on other subjects. to the end of his life it was his nature to feel intensely, even in small matters. but his scorn and hatred of the corrupt organization that was looting new york became a positive mania, which was reflected in the cartoons which he literally hurled week after week against tweed and his satellites. "i don't care what they write about me," said tweed, "but can't you stop those terrible cartoons?" and in the end they, more than anything else, led to his downfall, his flight and his capture in spain, where he was recognized by the police through the likeness nast had drawn of him as a kidnaper. but in recognizing nast's services in behalf of new york city it is not fair to overlook his work as a political caricaturist on broader issues. to him we owe also the gratz brown tag to greeley's coat in the campaign of 1872, the "rag baby of inflation," the jackass as emblematic of the democratic party, the labor cap and the full dinner pail, which in later years were so much developed by the cartoonists of _judge_. and if to-day, at the beginning of the twentieth century, we have a school of caricature which for scope and craftsmanship is equal, if not superior, to that of any nation of europe, it is only just to recognize that it was thomas nast who first gave american caricature a dignity and a meaning. [illustration: first appearance of the cap and dinner pail as emblematic of labor.] [illustration: the first "rag baby."] the earliest presidential election which falls within the scope of the present chapter, that of 1872, antedates the establishment of american comic weeklies. the central figure in the few caricatures which have survived from that year was, of course, horace greeley, whose candidacy at one time was thought seriously to threaten the fortunes of the republican party. the caricatures themselves, with the exception of those drawn by thomas nast, show little improvement over the caricatures which were executed during the civil war. the artists relied entirely upon the traditional loops to make them intelligible to the public, and the features of the political characters portrayed were expressionless and wooden. one of the best of this series was drawn in support of the horace greeley candidacy. uncle sam is represented as a landlord and president grant as his tenant, a shiftless widow with a dog at her heels and a bottle of rum in the basket on her arm. the widow grant has come to ask for a new lease. "well, uncle sam," she says, "i've called to see if you will let me have the white house for four years longer, as i find the place suits me very well." "no, marm grant," retorts uncle sam, shaking his head, "i reckon i'll do no such thing. i've had too many complaints about you from the neighbors during the last four years. i'm just sick of you and your tobacco smoke and bull pups, so i've given the lease to honest horace greeley, who will take better care of the place than you have." [illustration: the donkey. first used to ridicule the inflation tendency.] in another of this series horace greeley is represented as the entering wedge that is splitting the rock of the republican party. greeley, with a paper hearing the words "free trade" in one hand and one bearing "protection" in the other, is being hammered into the cleft in the republican rock by a huge mallet--democratic nomination--wielded by carl schurz. "this is rather a novel position for a stanch old republican like me," he says. "i begin to feel as if i was in a tight place." president grant, with a cigar in his hand, is looking on complacently. "my friend," he calls out to schurz, "you've got a soft thing on your wedge, but your mallet will kill the man." to which schurz replies: "i don't care who's killed, if we succeed in defeating your election." below, creeping furtively about the rock, are the figures of dana, sumner, gratz brown, trumbull, hall, sweeny, tweed, and hoffman of the ring. "anything to beat grant!" is the cry of these conspirators. "honesty is the word to shout, there are so many rogues about," mutters tweed. "oh, how freely we'll win with greeley," says hall. "anything to beat grant. he wouldn't make me collector for new york," are the words of dana. the cartoon is a belated specimen of the school of american caricature which was in vogue in the days of president jackson. [illustration: the brains of tammany.] as has already been stated, _puck_ was not founded until 1877, too late to take part in the tilden-hayes campaign. when we speak of _puck_, however, we refer, of course, to the edition printed in english, for, as a matter of fact, twenty-four numbers of a german _puck_ were published during the year 1876. [illustration: "a popular verdict."] as that year was an important one in american history, these numbers can by no means he ignored, and despite their crude appearance when contrasted with the _puck_ of later days, they contain some of keppler's most admirable work. for instance, there is the figure of the tattooed columbia, the precursor of gillam's famous tattooed man. this figure appeared in november, 1876, and was the idea of charles hauser, a member of the first editorial staff of the young weekly. the artist's idea of the unhappy condition of our nation is shown in the hideous tattooed designs with which columbia's body is scarred from head to foot. we can read "whisky ring," "black friday," "secession," "tammany," "election frauds," "corruption," "civil war," "credit mobilier," and "taxes." the figure is as repulsive as that which eight years later drove mr. blaine to frenzy. [illustration: the tattooed columbia. _by courtesy of the puck company._] [illustration: splitting the party. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] [illustration: you pays your money and you takes your choice. _by courtesy of the puck company._] a familiar device in the caricature of the later '70's was that of representing political figures as being headless and placing their heads in another part of the picture, so that you might adjust them to suit yourself. in this way the artist did not commit himself to prophecy and was enabled to please both parties. for instance, an excellent example of this is shown in the cartoon called "you pays your money and you takes your choice," drawn by keppler during the campaign of 1876. of the two headless figures one is seated in the window of the white house gesticulating derisively at his beaten opponent. the other, thoroughly crushed and with a nose of frightfully exaggerated length--both mr. tilden and mr. hayes were rather large-nosed men--is leaning helplessly against the wall of the cold outside. at the bottom of the picture are the heads of the two candidates, which one might cut out and adjust as pleased himself. [illustration: the radical party on a heavy grade. _from the collection of the new york historical society._] chapter xxvii the american political campaigns of 1880 and 1884 probably no cartoon dealing with the garfield-hancock campaign of 1880 was more widely discussed than that called "forbidding the banns," drawn for _puck_ by keppler. it was a cartoon which an american comic paper would publish to-day only after considerable hesitation, for there was in it the spirit of a less delicate age, a coarseness which was pardonable only when the genuine strength and humor of the complete work are taken into consideration. "forbidding the banns" shows a political wedding party at the altar with uncle sam as the reluctant and uncomfortable groom, general garfield as the eager bride, and the figure of the ballot box as the officiating clergyman. the bridesmaids are mr. whitelaw reid and carl schurz, with murat halstead bringing up the rear. the ceremony is well along and the contracting parties are about to be united when w. h. barnum, the chairman of the democratic national committee, rushes in shouting, "i forbid the banns!" and waving frantically the figure of a little baby marked "credit mobilier." the faces of all the bridal party show consternation at the unexpected interruption, while the bride protests coyly: "but it was such a little one." [illustration: "forbidding the banns." a famous cartoon of the garfield-hancock campaign. _by courtesy of the puck company._] the defeat of general hancock in 1880 was commemorated by keppler in _puck_ with the cartoon called "the wake over the remains of the democratic party." the ludicrous corpse of the defunct is stretched on a rough board and covered with a loose sheet. the lighted candles at the four corners protrude from the necks of bottles, and the mourners are indulging in a protracted carouse which seems destined to end in a free fight. in the center of the picture kelly, with ben butler as a partner, is doing a dance in the most approved manner of donnybrook fair. all about there is the general atmosphere of turmoil and unnatural excitement, but the figures of hewitt, davis, belmont, and english are stretched out in a manner indicating that the festivities of the night have proved too much for them. as has already been pointed out, the political caricature commemorating the cleveland-blaine campaign of 1884 was chiefly remarkable for its extraordinary rancor. there was little, if any, really good-natured satire underlying these cartoons; they were designed and executed vindictively, and their main object was to hurt. mr. cleveland's official record in buffalo, and as governor of new york, had been such as to cause many of the more liberal republicans to support his candidacy and offered little to the political cartoonist, so the opponents of republican caricature found it expedient to base their attacks on matters of purely personal nature. [illustration: the wake over the remains of the democratic party after the election of 1880. _by courtesy of the puck company._] even in later years the cartoonist did not entirely refrain from this method of belittling mr. cleveland's capabilities. it was sneeringly said that much of the success of his administration was due to the charm, the tact, and the personal magnetism of mrs. cleveland, and this idea was the inspiration of a number of cartoons which were far from being in the best of taste. one of these which was not particularly offensive was that entitled "mr. cleveland's best card." it was simply a huge playing card bearing the picture of mrs. cleveland. another much more obnoxious was a curious imitation of the famous french cartoon "partant pour la syrie," which was published in paris after the flight of the empress eugénie. [illustration: a common sorrow.] the democratic cartoonists, besides their use of the tattooed man idea and the alleged scandals in mr. blaine's political career, made a strong point of the soundness and cleanness of mr. cleveland's official record. a typical caricature of this nature was that drawn by gillam called "why they dislike him." it represents mr. cleveland as a lion lying on the rock of civil service reform. perched on the limb of a tree overhead are a group of chattering monkeys, his political enemies, who are hurling at him imprecations and abuse because he will not consent to serve as the cats-paw to pluck the chestnuts for them out of the political fire. familiar faces among the group of noisy bandar-log are those of croker, butler, and dana. prostrate and helpless under the paw of the lion is a monkey with the face of grady. [illustration: why they dislike him. _by courtesy of the puck company._] [illustration: the first "tattooed man" cartoon. _by courtesy of the puck company._] the most terrible and effective series of cartoons published during the cleveland-blaine campaign was that in which the republican candidate appeared as the tattooed man in the political show. for many weeks during the summer and autumn of 1884 mr. blaine was assailed through this figure in the pages of _puck_. the story of the origin of this historic cartoon is as follows: mr. bernard gillam, the artist, had conceived the idea of a cartoon in which each of the presidential possibilities should appear as some sort of freak in a political side-show. one of these freaks was to be the tattooed man, but mr. gillam at first hit upon david davis as the person to be so represented. he was describing the proposed cartoon one day in the office of _puck_ when mr. bunner, who was at that time the editor, turned suddenly and said: "david davis? nonsense! blaine is the man for that." the cartoon so conceived was splendidly executed, and became one of the great pictorial factors in turning the scale of the election. it stirred mr. blaine himself to a point where he resolved to prosecute the publishers of _puck_, and was persuaded from this course only by the very strongest pressure. the tattoo marks which were most obnoxious to him were those which spelled out the word "bribery." a curious feature of this series was that mr. bernard gillam was an ardent republican, voting for mr. blaine on election day, and at the same time that he was executing the tattooed man cartoon in _puck_ was suggesting equally vindictive caricatures of mr. cleveland and the democratic party for the rival pages of _judge_. chapter xxviii the influence of journalism [illustration: a german idea of irish home rule.] in looking backward over a century of caricature, it is interesting to ask just what it is that makes the radical difference between the cartoon of to-day and that of a hundred years ago. that there is a wide gulf between the comparative restraint of the modern cartoonist and the unbridled license of gillray's or rowlandson's grotesque, gargoyle types, is self-evident; that comic art, as applied to politics, is to-day more widespread, more generally appreciated, and in a quiet way more effective in molding public opinion than ever before, needs no argument. and yet, if one stops to analyze the individual cartoons, to take them apart and discover the essence of their humor, the incisive edge of their irony and satire, one finds that there is nothing really new in them; that the basic principles of caricature were all understood as well in the eighteenth century as in the nineteenth, and that, in many cases, the successful cartoon of to-day is simply the replica of an old one of a past generation, modified to fit a new set of facts. when gilbert stuart drew his famous "gerrymander" cartoon, he was probably not the first artist to avail himself of the chance resemblance of the geographical contour of a state or country to some person or animal. he certainly was not the last. again and again the map of the united states has been drawn so as to bring out some significant similarity, as recently when it was distorted into a ludicrous semblance of mr. cleveland, bending low in proud humility, the living embodiment of the principle, _l'état c'est moi_; or again, just before our war with spain, when it was so drawn as to present a capital likeness of uncle sam, the atlantic and gulf states forming his nose and mouth, the latter suggestively opened to take in cuba, which is swimming dangerously near. _puck's_ famous "tattooed man" was only a new application of an idea that had been used before; while the representation of a group of leading politicians as members of a freak show, a circus, or a minstrel troop, is as old as minstrels or dime museums themselves. few leading statesmen of the past half century have not at some time in their career been portrayed as hamlet, or macbeth, or richard iii.; while as for the conventional use of animals and symbolic figures to represent the different nations, the british lion and the russian bear, uncle sam and french liberty, these belong to the raw materials of caricature, dating back to its very inception as an art. and yet, while the means used are essentially the same as in the days of hogarth and cruikshank, the results are radically different. [illustration: the world (newspaper).] [illustration: horatius cleveland at the bridge. _from new york "life."_] [illustration: bernard gillam of "judge."] the reason for this difference may be summed up in a single word--journalism. the modern cartoon is essentially journalistic, both in spirit and in execution. the spasmodic single sheets of gillray's period, huge lithographs that found their way to the public through the medium of london print shops, were long ago replaced by the weekly comic papers, while to-day these in turn find formidable rivals in the cartoons which have become a feature of most of the leading daily journals. the celerity with which a caricature is now conceived and executed, thanks to the modern mechanical improvements and the prevailing spirit of alertness, makes it possible for the cartoonist to keep pace with the news of the day, to seize upon the latest political blunder, the social fad of the moment, and hit it off with a stroke of incisive irony, without fear that it will be forgotten before the drawing can appear in print. the consequences of all this modern haste and enterprise are not wholly advantageous. real talent is often wasted upon mediocre ideas under the compulsion of producing a daily cartoon, and again a really brilliant conception is marred by overhaste in execution, a lack of artistic finish in the detail. besides, the tendency of a large part of contemporary cartoons is toward the local and the ephemeral. this is especially true of the caricatures which appear during an american political campaign, in which every petty blunder, every local issue, every bit of personal gossip, is magnified into a vital national principle, a world-wide scandal. and when the morning after the election dawns, the business settles down into its wonted channel, these momentous issues, and the flamboyant cartoons which proclaimed them, suddenly become as trivial and as empty as a spent firecracker or roman candle. [illustration: joseph keppler of "puck."] but another change which the spirit of journalism has wrought in the contemporary cartoon, and a more vital change than any other, is due to the definite editorial policy which lies behind it. the dominant note in all the work of the great cartoonists of the past, in the english gillray and the french daumier, was the note of individualism. take away the personal rancor, the almost irrational hatred of "little boney" from gillray, take away daumier's mordant irony, his fearless contempt for louis philippe, and the life of their work is gone. the typical cartoon of to-day is, to a large extent, not a one-man production at all. it is frequently built up, piecemeal, one detail at a time, and in the case of a journal like _punch_ or _judge_ or _life_ often represents the thoughtful collaboration of the entire staff. in the case of the leading dailies, the cartoon must be in accord with the settled political policy of the paper, as much as the leading articles on the editorial page. the individual preferences of the cartoonist do not count. in fact, he may be doing daily violence to his settled convictions, or he may find means of espousing both sides at once, as was the case with mr. gillam, who throughout the cleveland-blaine campaign was impartially drawing democratic cartoons for _puck_ and suggesting republican cartoons for _judge_ at the same time. what the political cartoon will become in the future, it is dangerous to predict. there is, however, every indication that its influence, instead of diminishing, is likely to increase steadily. what it has lost in ceasing to be the expression of the individual mind, the impulsive product of erratic genius, it has more than gained in its increased timeliness, its greater sobriety, its more sustained and definite purpose. at certain epochs in the past it has served as a vehicle for reckless scandal-mongering and scurrilous personal abuse. but this it seems to have happily outgrown. that pictorial satire may be made forceful without the sacrifice of dignity was long ago demonstrated by tenniel's powerful work in the pages of _punch_. and there is no doubt that a serious political issue, when presented in the form of a telling cartoon, will be borne home to the minds of a far larger circle of average every-day men and women than it ever could be when discussed in the cold black and white of the editorial column. [illustration: the john bull octopus in egypt. _from "il papagallo" (rome)._] [illustration: a hand against every man. _from london "judy," april 13, 1892._] [illustration: the stability of the triple alliance. _from "il papagallo" (rome)._] another interesting effect of the growing conservative spirit in caricature is seen in the gradual crystallization of certain definite symbolic types. allusion has already been made, in earlier chapters of this work, to the manner in which the conception of john bull and uncle sam and other analogous types, has been gradually built up by almost imperceptible degrees, each artist preserving all the essential work of his predecessor, and adding a certain indefinable something of his own, until a certain definite portrait has been produced, a permanent ideal, whose characteristic features the cartoonists of the future could no more alter arbitrarily than they could the features of bismarck or gladstone. and not only have these crystallized types become accepted by the nation at large,--not only is uncle sam the same familiar figure, tall and lanky, from the new york _puck_ to the san francisco _wasp_,--but gradually these national types have migrated and crossed the seas, and to-day they are the common property of comic artists of all nations. john bull and the russian bear, columbia and the american eagle, are essentially the same, whether we meet them in the press of canada, australia, cape colony, or the united states. and for the very reason that there is so little variety in the obvious features, the mere physical contour, the subtler differences due to race prejudice and individual limitations are all the more significant and interesting. there are cases, and comparatively recent cases, too, where race-prejudice has found expression in such rampant and illogical violence as prompted many of the spanish cartoons during our recent war over cuba, in which americans were regularly portrayed as hogs--big hogs and little hogs, some in hog-pens, others running at large--but one and all of them as hogs. the cartoonists of the continent, frenchmen, germans, and italians alike, have difficulty in accepting the anglo-saxon type of john bull. instead, they usually portray him as a sort of sad-faced travesty upon lord dundreary, a tall, lank, much bewhiskered "milord," familiar to patrons of continental farce-comedy. but it is not in cases like these that race prejudice becomes interesting. there is nothing subtle or suggestive in mere vituperation, whether verbal or pictorial, any more than in the persistent representation of a nation by a type which is no sense representative. on the other hand, the subtle variations of expression in the john bull of contemporary american artists, or the uncle sam of british caricature, will repay careful study. they form a sort of sensitive barometer of public sentiment in the two countries, and excepting during the rare periods of exceptional good feeling there is always in the englishman's conception of uncle sam a scarce-concealed suggestion of crafty malice in place of his customary kindly shrewdness, while conversely, our portrayal of john bull is only too apt to convert that bluff, honest-hearted country gentleman into a sort of arrogant blusterer, greedy for gain, yet showing the vein of cowardice distinctive of the born bully. chapter xxix years of turbulence in marked contrast to the preceding lengthy period of tranquillity, the closing decade of the nineteenth century witnessed a succession of wars and international crises well calculated to stimulate the pencils of every cartoonist worthy of the name. one has only to recall that to this period belong the conflict between china and japan, the brief clash between greece and turkey, the beginning of our policy of expansion, with the annexation of hawaii, our own war with spain, and england's protracted struggle in the transvaal, to realize how rich in stirring events these few years have been, and what opportunities they offer for dramatic caricature. [illustration: i. absolute monarchy. ii. constitutional government. iii. middle class republic. iv. social republic. a present day lesson. _from the "revue encyclopédique."_] [illustration: a _punch_ slip: a cartoon published in anticipation of an event which did _not_ occur--viz. the meeting of general gordon and general stewart at khartoum. _by tenniel, february 7, 1885._] [illustration: _telegram, thursday morning, feb. 5._--"khartoum taken by the mahdi. general gordon's fate uncertain." _by tenniel, february 14, 1885._] [illustration: the london "times" and the spurious parnell letters.] a cartoon produced in an earlier chapter, entitled "waiting," showed general gordon gazing anxiously across the desert at the mirage which was conjured up by his fevered brain, taking the clouds of the horizon to be the guns of the approaching british army of relief. early in 1885 the relief expedition started under the command of general henry stewart, and on february 7 there was published in _punch_ the famous cartoon "at last," showing the meeting between gordon and the relieving general. this was a famous _punch_ slip. that meeting never occurred. for on february 5, two days before the appearance of the issue containing the cartoon, khartoum had been taken by the mahdi. the following week tenniel followed up "at last" with the cartoon "too late," which showed the mahdi and his fanatic following pouring into khartoum, while stricken britannia covers her eyes. [illustration: tenniel's famous cartoon at the time of bismarck's retirement.] the _times_ challenge to charles stewart parnell was, of course, recorded in the caricature of _punch_. the "thunderer," it will be remembered, published letters, which it believed to be genuine, involving parnell in the murders of lord frederick cavendish and mr. burke in phoenix park, dublin, in 1882. when these letters were proved to have been forged by pigot, _punch_ published a cartoon showing the _times_ doing penance. both of these cartoons were by tenniel. "the challenge" appeared in the issue of april 30, 1887, and "penance" almost two years later, march 9, 1889. [illustration: l'enfant terrible. the baccarat scandal at tranby croft in 1891. _from "puck."_] a cartoon which marked tenniel's genius at its height, a cartoon worthy of being ranked with that which depicted the british lion's vengeance on the bengal tiger after the atrocities of the sepoy rebellion, was his famous "dropping the pilot," which was published on march 29, 1890, after william ii. of germany had decided to dispense with the services of the iron chancellor. over the side of the ship of state the young emperor is leaning complacently looking down on the grim old pilot, who has descended the ladder and is about to step into the boat that is to bear him ashore. the original sketch of this cartoon was finished by tenniel as a commission from lord rosebery, who gave it to bismarck. the picture is said to have pleased both the emperor and the prince. [illustration: william bluebeard. "my first two wives are dead. take care, hohenlohe, lest the same fate overtake you." _from "la silhouette" (paris)._] the baccarat scandal at tranby croft and the subsequent trial at which the then prince of wales was present as a witness was a rich morsel for the caricaturist in the early summer of 1891. not only in england, but on the continent and in this country, the press was full of jibes and banter at the prince's expense. the german comic paper, _ulk_, suggested pictorially a new coat-of-arms for his royal highness in which various playing cards, dice, and chips were much in evidence. in another issue the same paper gives a german reading from shakspere in which it censures the prince in much the same manner that falstaff censured the wild harry of henry iv. the london cartoonists all had their slings with varying good nature. _fun_ represented the prince as the prodigal son being forgiven by the paternal british nation. point to this cartoon was given by the fact that the pantomime "l'enfant prodigue" was being played at the time in the prince of wales' theater. the _pall mall budget_ showed the queen and the heir apparent enjoying a quiet evening over the card table at home. the prince is saying: "ah, well! i must give up baccarat and take to cribbage with mamma." [illustration: christianity and the bible in china. _an exact copy of a chinese native cartoon. reproduced in the san francisco "wasp," jan. 2, 1982._] _moonshine_, in a cartoon entitled "aren't they rather overdoing it?" took a kindlier and a more charitable view of the whole affair. his royal highness is explaining the matter to a most horrible looking british pharisee. "don't be too hard on me, mr. stiggins," he says. "i am not such a bad sort of a fellow, on the whole. you mustn't believe all that you read in the papers." the nature of the american caricature of the scandal may be understood from the cartoon which we reproduce from _puck_. this cartoon speaks for itself. [illustration: japan--"does it hurt up there?" _from "kladderadatsch."_] [illustration: business at the death-bed--uncle sam as undertaker. _from "kladderadatsch" (berlin)._] [illustration: the start for the china cup. _from "moonshine" (london)._] the emperor william and his chancellors inspired _la silhouette_, of paris, to a very felicitous cartoon entitled "william bluebeard." william is warning hohenlohe and pointing to a closet in which are hanging the bodies of bismarck and caprivi, robed in feminine apparel. "my first two wives are dead," says bluebeard. "take care, hohenlohe, lest the same fate overtake you!" the increase in european armament in 1892 suggested to tenniel the idea of the cartoon "the road to ruin," which appeared november 5 of that year. it shows the figures of two armed horsemen, france and germany, each burdened with armies of four million men, riding along "the road to ruin." their steeds, weighed down by the burdens they bear, are faltering in their strides. a cartoon published shortly afterwards in the london _fun_ shows the figure of peace welcoming the emperors of germany and austria, and urging them hospitably to lay aside their sword-belts. "thanks, madam," rejoins kaiser wilhelm, "but we would rather retain them--in your behalf!" [illustration: tableau. end of the chinese-japanese war. _from toronto "grip."_] the brief war between china and japan was necessarily of a nature to suggest cartoons of infinite variety. it was the quick, aggressive bantam against a huge but unwieldy opponent, and one of the earliest cartoons in _punch_ utilized this idea in "the corean cock fight." the big and clumsy shanghai is warily watching his diminutive foe, while the russian bear, contentedly squatting in the background, is saying softly to himself: "hi! whichever wins, i see my way to a dinner." every feature of chinese life offered something to the caricaturists. for instance, in a cartoon entitled "the first installment," london _fun_ shows the jap slashing off the chinaman's pigtail. now this idea of the pigtail in one form or another was carried through to the end of the war. for example the berlin _ulk_ offers a simple solution of the whole controversy in a picture entitled "how the northern alexander might cut the corean knot." china and japan, with their pigtails hopelessly tangled in a knot labeled "corea," are tugging desperately in opposite directions, while russia, knife in one hand and scissors in the other, is preparing to cut off both pigtails close to the heads of his two victims. [illustration: the chinese exclusion act. from the san francisco "wasp."] [illustration: the great republican circus. this is considered by mr. opper as one of his most effective political cartoons.] [illustration: to the rescue!] _punch_ characteristically represented the contending nations as two boys engaged in a street fight, while the various powers of europe are looking on. john chinaman has obviously had very much the worst of the fray; his features are battered; he is on the ground, and bawling lustily, "boo-hoo! he hurtee me welly much! no peacey man come stoppy him!" the end of the war was commemorated by toronto _grip_ in a tableau showing a huge chinaman on his knees, while a little jap is standing on top of the chinaman's head toying with the defeated man's pigtail. _kladderadatsch_, of berlin, printed a very amusing and characteristic cartoon when the war was at an end: "business at the death-bed--uncle sam as undertaker." this pictorial skit alludes to the proposition from the united states that china pay her war indemnity to japan in silver. it shows a stricken chinaman tucked in a ludicrous bed and about to breathe his last. uncle sam, as an enterprising undertaker, has thrust his way in and insists on showing the dying man his handsome new style of coffin. [illustration: mr. gladstone in the valley.] [illustration: the boulanger excitement. the noisy boy in the european lodging house. _from "judge."_] [illustration: "yes, citizens, since the disarmament this has been made into a telescope. fortunately it was not a muzzle-loader, so they have been able to put a lens at both ends." _a french cartoon aimed at the peace conference._] [illustration: a fixture.] [illustration: a group of modern french caricaturists.] still another clever cartoon in which the _kladderadatsch_ summed up the situation at the close of the war shows a map of the eastern hemisphere, distorted into a likeness of a much-perturbed lady, the british isles forming her coiffure, europe her arms and body, and asia the flowing drapery of her skirts. japan, saw in hand, has just completed the amputation of one of her feet--formosa--and has the other--corea--half sawn off. "does it hurt you up there?" he is asking, gazing up at the european portion of his victim. the same periodical a few months later forcibly called attention to the fact that while france and russia were both profiting by the outcome of the war, germany was likely to go away empty-handed. it is entitled "the partition of the earth: an epilogue to the chinese loan." china, represented as a fat, overgrown mandarin, squatting comfortably on his throne, serene in the consciousness that his financial difficulties are adjusted for the time being, is explaining the situation to prince hohenlohe, who is waiting, basket in hand, for a share of the spoils. on one side russia is bearing off a toy engine and train of cars, labeled "manchuria," and on the other france is contentedly jingling the keys to a number of chinese seaports. "the world has been given away," china is saying; "kwangtung, kwangsi, and yünnan are no longer mine. but if you will live in my celestial kingdom you need not feel any embarrassment; your uselessness has charmed us immensely." the boulanger excitement, which so roused france until the bubble was effectually pricked by the lawyer floquet's fencing sword, was satirized by _judge_ in a cartoon entitled "the noisy boy in the european lodging house." the scene is a huge dormitory in which the various european powers have just settled down in their separate beds for a quiet night's rest when boulanger, with a paper cap on his head, comes marching through, loudly beating a drum. in an instant all is turmoil. king humbert of italy is shown in the act of hurling his royal boot at the offending intruder. the czar of russia has opened his eyes and his features are distorted with wrath. bismarck is shaking his iron fist. the emperor of austria is getting out of bed, apparently with the intention of inflicting dire punishment on the interrupter of his slumbers. even the sultan of turkey, long accustomed to disturbances from all quarters, has joined in the popular outcry. the lodgers with one voice are shouting, "drat that boy! why doesn't he let us have some rest?" the old allegorical ideal of christian passing through the dangers of the valley of the shadow of death in bunyan's "pilgrim's progress," which has been appearing in caricature every now and then since gillray used it against napoleon, was employed by tenniel in a cartoon of mr. gladstone and home rule published in _punch_, april 15, 1893. the old warrior, sword in hand, is making his way slowly along the narrow and perilous wall of home rule. on either side are the bogs of disaster, suggestive of his fate in case his foot should slip. the panama scandals in france and the ensuing revelations of general political trickery suggested one of sambourne's best cartoons, that depicting france descending into the maelstrom of corruption. this cartoon appeared in the beginning of 1893. it shows france in the figure of a woman going supinely over the rapids, to be hurled into the whirlpool below. [illustration: the anglo-french war barometer. fashoda!!! fashoda!! fashoda! fashoda. _from "kladderadatsch" (berlin)._] british feeling on the fashoda affair was summed up by tenniel in two cartoons which appeared in october and november, in 1898. the first of these called "quit-pro quo?" was marked by a vindictive bitterness which appeared rather out of place in the _punch_ of the last quarter of the century. but it must be remembered that for a brief time feeling ran very high in both countries over the affair. in this cartoon france is represented as an organ-grinder who persists in grinding out the obnoxious fashoda tune to the intense annoyance of the british householder. the second cartoon represents the sphinx with the head of john bull. john bull is grimly winking his left eye, to signify that he regards himself very much of a "fixture" in egypt. chapter xxx american parties and platforms the dangerous condition in which the united states found itself about the time we began the building of our new and greater navy was depicted in _judge_ by the cartoon entitled, "rip van winkle awakes at last." it shows a white-bearded, white-haired uncle sam seated on a rock about which the tide is rapidly rising, looking round at the great modern armaments of england and france and germany and italy, and murmuring, as he thinks of his own antiquated wooden ships of war and brick forts, "why, i'm twenty years behind the age." in his old hat, with the broken crown, are the feathers of farragut, perry, paul jones, and lawrence, but these alone are not enough, nor will even the "spirit of '76," which hovers over him in the shape of an eagle, quite suffice. he has his musket of 1812 and his muzzle-loading gun of 1864, but in the background are those huge cannon of european foes and above them is the gaunt, grim figure of a helmeted death. a little more and it would have been too late. now there is yet time. rip van winkle awakes at last. an interesting variant upon the old type of "presidential steeplechase" cartoons appeared in _puck_ during the summer of 1892, after the republican convention at minneapolis and the democratic convention at chicago had respectively nominated mr. harrison and mr. cleveland. the cartoon is entitled "they're off!" and is drawn with admirable spirit. the scene is a roman amphitheater, and the two presidential candidates, in the guise of charioteers, are guiding their mettlesome steeds in a mad gallop around the arena. mr. cleveland's horses, "tariff reform" and "economy," are running steadily, and seem to be slowly forging to the front, while those of mr. harrison, "high protection" and "force bill," are not pulling well together, and with ears pointed forward, look as though they might at any moment become unmanageable. [illustration: rip van winkle wakes at last. _by gillam in "judge."_] [illustration: they're off! the presidential race between harrison and cleveland in 1892. _from "puck."_] [illustration: "where am i at?" the famous redrawn cartoon which in its original form depicted mr. cleveland and the democratic party disastrously routed at the polls in 1892. _by gillam in "judge."_] in connection with this campaign of 1892, there was no cartoon of more interest than that entitled "where am i at?" which bernard gillam drew for _judge_, and this interest lies less in the cartoon itself than in the amusing story of its conception and execution. right up to election day not only gillam, but the entire staff of _judge_, were perfectly confident of republican success at the polls. to them the election seemed to be a mere formality which had to be gone through with, in order that general harrison might remain in the white house for four years more. so a conference was held, after which mr. gillam began work on the cartoon which was to commemorate the republican victory. the idea used was that of a general smash-up, with mr. cleveland in the middle of the _débâcle_ and the republican elephant marching triumphantly over the ruins. along these lines a double-page cartoon was drawn with an immense variety of detail, reproduced, and made ready for the press. election day came around, and a few hours after the polls had been closed it became evident, to the consternation of mr. gillam and his associates, that instead of the expected republican victory, mr. cleveland had swept the country by overwhelming majorities. what was to be done? it was too late to prepare another cartoon, so that the plate already made was taken from the press, and the cartoonist set to work. to the discomfited countenance of mr. cleveland gillam attached a beard which transformed the face into a likeness to that of the defeated republican candidate. a huge patch drawn over one of the eyes of the republican elephant changed its appearance of elation to one of the most woe-begone depression. other slight changes in the legends here and there throughout the picture transformed its nature to such an extent that only the most practiced eye could detect anything that was not wholly spontaneous and genuine. to cap it all, in a corner of the picture gillam drew a likeness of himself in the form of a monkey turning an uncomfortable somersault. with a knowledge of these facts the reader by a close examination of this cartoon, which is reproduced in this volume, will undoubtedly detect the lines along which the lightning change was made. nevertheless, it will be impossible for him to deny that the transformation was cleverly done. [illustration: the political columbus who will not land in 1892. _by gillam in "judge."_] besides being the year of the presidential campaign, 1892 was a year when the thoughts of americans were turned backward four centuries to the time when christopher columbus first landed on the shore of the western hemisphere. the original ships of columbus's fleet were being brought over the water from spain; the columbus idea was being exploited everywhere in topical song and light opera; and it would have been strange indeed if it had failed to play some part in political caricature. gillam in _judge_ made use of it in the cartoon entitled "the political columbus who will not land in '92." it represents the ship of the democracy with mr. cleveland as columbus gazing anxiously and uneasily at the horizon. at the bow of the ship is the lion's head and the shield of britannia, in allusion to mr. cleveland's alleged pro-english sympathies. the sail upon which the ship is relying for its progress is marked "free trade" and is a woefully patched and weather-beaten bit of canvas. the crew of the ship is a strange assortment which suggests all sorts of mutiny and piracy. in the front of the vessel and close behind the captain are dana, croker, sheehan, and hill. beyond them we see the figures of cochran, carlisle, crisp, brice, and mills and flower. in the far aft are blackburn and gorman. evidently crew and captain are animated by despair, although the gull, bearing the features of mr. pulitzer, of the new york _world_, that is circling around the ship, shows that land is not so many miles away. "i don't see land," cries cleveland-columbus. and the despairing crew, pointing to the free trade sail, calls back, "and you never will with that rotten canvas." [illustration: map of the united states.] in contrast with the vindictive and malicious character of the cartoons which heralded mr. cleveland's first election, there was a marked absence of unpleasant personalities in those which belong to the period of his second term. there was no disposition, however, to spare him in regard to the growing difficulty he had in holding his party together or his assumption of what republicans regarded as an entirely unwarranted degree of authority. this autocratic spirit was cleverly satirized by a cartoon in _judge_, to which allusion has already been made. it consists simply of a map of the united states so drawn as to form a grotesque likeness of the president. he is bending low in an elaborate bow, in which mock-humility and glowing self-satisfaction are amusingly blended, his folded hands forming the florida peninsula, his coat-tails projecting into lower california. beneath is inscribed the following paraphrase: my country, 'tis of me, sweet land of liberty, of me i sing! mr. cleveland's troubles with his party began early in his second administration. as early as april we find him depicted by _judge_ as the "political bull in the democratic china-shop." the bull has already had time to do a vast amount of havoc. the plate-glass window, commanding a view of the national capitol, is a wreck, and the floor is strewn with the remains of delicate cups and platters, amidst which may still be recognized fragments of the "baltimore machine," "rewards for workers," "wishes of the leaders," etc. an elaborate vase, marked "n. y. machine," and bearing a portrait of senator hill, is just toppling over, to add its fragments to the general wreckage. [illustration: return of the southern flags. _by gillam in "judge."_] [illustration: the champion masher of the universe. _by gillam in "judge."_] the general depression of trade and the much-debated issue of tariff reform recur again and again in the caricatures of the second cleveland administration, especially after the republican landslide of 1893. thus, in december of that year, a significant cartoon in _judge_ represents the leading statesmen of each party engaged in a game of "national football," the two goals being respectively marked "protection" and "free trade." "halfback" hill is saying, "brace up, cap; we've got the ball," and captain grover, nursing a black eve, rejoins disconsolately, "that's all very well, boys, but they've scored against us, and we've got to put up the game of our lives to beat them." in january the same periodical published a pessimistic sketch, showing uncle sam, shivering with cold, and his hands plunged deep into his pockets, gloomily watching the mercury in the "industrial thermometer" sinking steadily lower from protection and plenty, through idleness, misery, and starvation, to the zero point of free trade. "durn the democratic weather, anyway," says uncle sam. a more hopeful view of the situation found expression in _puck_, in a cartoon entitled "relief at hand." labor, in the guise of an alpine traveler, has fallen by the wayside, and lies half buried beneath the snows of the "mckinley tariff." help, however, has come, in the form of a st. bernard, named "wilson tariff bill," while cleveland, in the guise of a monk, is hastening from the neighboring monastery, drawn in the semblance of the national capitol. still another cartoon harping on the need of tariff reform represents mckinley and the other leading republicans as "ponce de leon and his followers," gathered around a pool labeled "high protection doctrine." "they think it is the fountain of political youth and strength, but it is only a stagnant pool that is almost dried up." among the many caricatures in which _judge_ supported the opposite side, and heaped ridicule on the wilson bill, one of the best shows uncle sam retiring for the night, and examining with disgust and wrath the meager crazy quilt (the wilson bill) with which he has been provided in lieu of blankets. "i'll freeze to death," he is grumbling, "and yet some of those idiots call this a protective measure." [illustration: the harrison platform. _by keppler in "puck."_] mr. cleveland's determination to return to the south the flags captured in the war of secession, in the hopes of putting an end to sectional feeling, brought down upon his head the wrath of the more extreme republican element, a wrath which was reflected strongly, editorially and pictorially, in the papers of the day. this suggested to _judge_ the cartoon entitled "halt," in which mr. cleveland, in the act of handing back the captured flags, is restrained by the spirit of lincoln, which says, "had you fought for those flags you would not be so quick to give them away!" to which mr. cleveland is made to reply, "great scott! i thought you were dead and forgotten long ago. i only meant to please mr. solid south. they're rubbish, anyhow." this is another cartoon from the hand of the prolific gillam. the movement for the annexation of the hawaiian islands, which occurred in the spring of 1893, and which many americans were inclined to regard with suspicion and disfavor, was commemorated in a great variety of cartoons, both in this country and abroad. it was only natural that a movement which owed its inception to a republican administration, should receive the cordial approval and indorsement of _judge_. a cartoon, dated february 18, represents columbia in the guise of an exemplary modern school-mistress, serenely holding in order her turbulent class of mingled chinese, negroes, indians, italian organ-grinders, and russian anarchists, while she gives a cordial welcome to the small, half-naked new scholar from the pacific, who is timidly begging to be admitted. canada, represented as a demure little maiden, stands just behind hawaii, an interested spectator, apparently more than half inclined to follow his example. in much the same spirit was a design that appeared in the _wasp_, representing uncle sam in the character of st. peter, holding the key to america's political paradise. "poor little imp," he is saying to the hawaiian applicant, "i don't see why i should shut you out, when i've let in all the tramps of the world already." another cartoon which appeared in _judge_ was entitled, "the champion masher of the universe." this represents hawaii under the form of a dusky but comely damsel, being borne off complacently by a gorgeously attired uncle sam, while his discomfited rivals are looking on in chagrin and disgust. these rivals are england, under the form of john bull; france, shown under the features of president sadi carnot; germany, the emperor william; and italy, king humbert. this cartoon was drawn by gillam. [illustration: the end of the chilian affair. _from "judge."_] the toronto _grip_ saw the matter in quite a different aspect. hawaii, a badly frightened savage, is bound to a stake, while uncle sam, in the guise of a missionary, is whetting the knife of annexation, preparing to give him the _coup-de-grace_, and at the same time waving off john bull, who holds his knife, "protectorate," with similar intent. "hold up," says hawaii, "didn't you say it was wrong to eat man?" and uncle sam rejoins benevolently, "yes--but--well, circumstances alter cases, and the interests of civilization and commerce, you know ---you keep off, john; he's my meat." the suggestion that england was merely waiting for a good excuse to step in and take possession of hawaii, while the american administration and congress were trying to reach an understanding, was eagerly seized upon by other journals as well as _grip_, especially in germany. the berlin _ulk_ portrayed queen liliuokalani, armed with a broom, angrily sweeping uncle sam from his foothold in honolulu, while john bull, firmly established on two of the smaller islands, "laughs to his heart's content," so the legend runs, "but the yankee is mad with rage." in similar spirit the _kladderadatsch_ depicts john bull and uncle sam as "two good old friends," trying to "balance their interests in the pacific ocean." with clasped hands the two rivals are see-sawing backwards and forwards, each striving to retain a precarious foothold, as they straddle the pacific from samoa to hawaii, and each quite oblivious of the discomfort of the squirming little natives that they are crushing under heel. the fiasco of mr. cleveland's attempt to restore queen liliuokalani to her throne was hit off in _judge_ by a cartoon portraying him as don quixote, physically much the worse for wear, as a result of his latest tilt at the hawaiian windmill. the knight's spirit, however, is unbroken, and he is receiving philosophically the well-meant consolation of sancho panza gresham. [illustration: mr. mckinley as a political tam o' shanter. _by gillam in "judge."_] [illustration: don quixote bryan meets disaster in his encounter with the full dinner pail. _by victor gillam in "judge."_] [illustration: outing of the anarchists.] another cartoon of sterling literary flavor is that representing mr. mckinley as a political tam o' shanter, which appeared during the exciting election of 1896. the countenance of tam in this cartoon shows none of the anxiety and mental perturbation of the hero of burns' poems. you can see that he has full confidence in his good mare, "national credit," and is perfectly convinced that she will carry him unscathed over the road to good times, prosperity, and protection. the carlins have been close at his mare's heels, however, and as he passes the bridge over which they dare not cross, the foremost of his pursuers has caught and pulled away as a trophy the tail of the steed. the tail, however, is something with which he can well part, for it typifies four years of business depression. the leaders of the pursuing carlins are free trade, anarchy, sectionalism, and popocracy. [illustration: to the death.] mr. bryan's appeal to the farmer in 1896 was hit off by hamilton in a powerful, but exceedingly blasphemous, cartoon entitled "the temptation." bryan in the form of a huge angel of darkness has taken the farmer to the top of a high mountain to show him the riches of the world. as far as the eye can see stretch oceans and cities and hills and rivers and mountains of silver. it is a great pity that so grim and powerful a cartoon should have been marred by that display of bad taste which has been too frequent in the history of caricature. [illustration: the great weyler ape.] the caricature produced by the campaign between mr. mckinley and mr. bryan in 1900 offers few, if any, cartoons more admirable than that by mr. victor gillam, representing don quixote bryan meeting disaster in his fight against the full dinner pail. this cartoon has that literary flavor which has been too much lacking in american caricature, and which raises this particular cartoon far above the average in the same school. the idea, of course, is based on don quixote's disastrous encounter with the windmill, which that poor crack-brained gentleman took to be a giant. the body of the windmill is a huge dinner pail and its arms are a crossed knife and fork. don quixote, incased in armor from head to foot, and mounted on the democratic donkey with free silver for a saddle, has tilted against the solid structure with disastrous results. his lance is shattered, and he and his faithful steed lie prostrate and discomfited on opposite sides of the road. the sancho panza needed to complete the picture appears under the familiar features of mr. richard croker, who, leading the tammany tiger by a rope, is hurrying to his master's assistance. in the distance may be seen the white house, but the road in that direction is completely barred by the stanch windmill that has so successfully resisted the mad knight's onslaught. [illustration: "we are the people."] chapter xxxi the spanish-american war the pent-up feeling throughout the united states, which reached a dangerous degree of tension during the weeks preceding the declaration of war against spain, was forcibly symbolized in the minneapolis _herald_. the dome of the national capitol is portrayed, surmounted by a "congressional safety-valve." mckinley, clinging to the cupola, is anxiously listening to the roar of the imprisoned steam, which is escaping in vast "war clouds," in spite of all the efforts of speaker reed, who is freely perspiring in his effort to hold down the valve. [illustration: be careful! it's loaded! _by victor gillam in "judge."_] one of those cartoons which are not to be forgotten in a day or a week or a month; one which stirs the blood and rouses the mind to a new patriotism even when seen years after the events which inspired it, is victor gillam's "be careful! it's loaded!" which appeared a few weeks before the outbreak of the spanish-american war and which we deem worthy of being ranked among the twenty-five or thirty great cartoons which the nineteenth century has produced. to realize to-day its full force and meaning one has to recall the peculiar tension under which the american people were laboring during the months of february, march, and april, 1898. the _maine_ had been destroyed in havana harbor, and although, now that anger has died down, we can no longer cling implacably to the belief, which was then everywhere expressed, that it was an act emanating from the spanish government, at the time it was too much for our overwrought nerves; the condition of cuba was growing every day more deplorable, and everyone felt that the inevitable conflict was hourly at hand. in the picture american patriotism is symbolized by a huge cannon. a diminutive spaniard has climbed to the top of a mast of a spanish vessel and monkey-like is shaking his fist down the muzzle. uncle sam, standing by the gun and realizing the spaniard's imminent peril calls out, excitedly, "be careful! it's loaded!" a warning to which the latter seems little inclined to pay any attention. in its very simplicity this cartoon differs greatly from most of those of the school of _puck_ and _judge_. there is none of that infinite variety of detail which makes an elaborate study necessary in order to arrive at a full comprehension of the meaning of a cartoon. "be careful! it's loaded!" like the most striking english and french cartoons, may be understood at a glance. [illustration: speaker reed to mckinley--"you've got to bank the fire some way or other: i can't hold in this steam much longer." _minneapolis "tribune."_] [illustration: the latest war bulletin. _by hamilton in "judge."_] a cartoon like grant e. hamilton's "the latest war bulletin" we find amusing at the present time. we did not find it so a little over five years ago. this latest war bulletin, printed in asbestos, is supposed to have been just received from the infernal regions. his satanic majesty, with a sardonic grin upon his face, has just composed it to his own entire satisfaction. marked up on the burning furnace of hades it reads: "only spanish will be spoken here until further notice--p.s. guests will please leave their crowns and spanish 4's in charge of the night clerk." [illustration: a knife for the american pigs. piratical--(spain accused an american ship of flying the spanish flag in order to cut the cable) the result of the war--defeats. sampson--"where is cervera's fleet?" mckinley and england. mckinley--"i wonder what he holds?" the minister of revenue has a spoon for the war kettle. spanish cartoons of the spanish-american war. _from "don quijote" (madrid)._] another equally hideous cartoon by hamilton is that entitled "the spanish brute adds mutilation to murder." it shows a hideous ape-like monster representing spain, one blood-dripping hand smearing the tombstones erected to the sailors of the _maine_ and the other clutching a reeking knife. all about him under the tropical trees are the bodies of his mutilated victims. the expression of the monster's countenance is a lesson in national prejudice. it shows how far a well-balanced nation may go in moments of bitterness and anger. [illustration: the spanish brute--adds mutilation to murder. _by hamilton in "judge."_] one of the most striking and amusing of all the cartoons evoked by the results of the spanish-american war appeared in _punch_ at a time when our departure from our traditional policy began to cause comment in europe. there are two figures, that of dame europa and that of uncle sam. dame europa is a lady of frigid aspect, with arms folded, and who has drawn herself up to full height as she gazes scornfully at the complacent and unruffled uncle sam. "to whom do i owe the honor of this intrusion?" she asks icily. "marm, my name is uncle sam." "any relation of the late colonel monroe?" is the scathing retort. no less interesting than the american cartoons of the spanish war are those contributed by spain herself, although in the light of subsequent events they are chiefly amusing for their overweening confidence and braggadocio insolence. among the more extravagant flights of spanish imagination, which later news turned into absurdities, may be cited "dewey's situation," in which the victor of manila is represented as a disconsolate rat, caught in the philippine mouse-trap; "cervera bottles up schley," a situation which the sober facts of history afterwards reversed; and "mckinley's condition," in which the president is represented as swathed in bandages, and suffering severely from apocryphal injuries received at porto rico and cienfuegos. all of these cartoons appeared at different times in the madrid _don quijote_, which did not always keep on this level of empty boasting, but occasionally produced some really clever caricature. a regular feature of the spanish war cartoons was the american hog as a symbol of the united states, and some of the applications of this idea in the _don quijote_ were distinctly amusing. for instance, in reference to spain's accusation that an american ship flew the spanish flag at guantanamo in order to approach near enough to cut the cable, america is shown as a fat hog, triumphantly strutting along on its hind legs and ostentatiously waving the spanish colors. again, the sampson-schley controversy is hit off in a picture showing sampson surrounded by a number of naval "hogs," each armed with gigantic shears and bent upon obtaining the admiral's scalp. still another cartoon seeks to explain the "real purpose" in getting cuba away from spain. a drove of pigs have clustered around a huge barrel of cuban molasses and are eagerly sucking the contents through tubes. of a more dignified type are the caricatures representing spain as a beautiful and haughty señorita, boldly showing how she keeps beneath her garter "a knife for the american pigs"; or pointing to her shoe on which cuba serves as a buckle, and arrogantly challenging a diminutive mckinley, "you can't unbuckle that shoe!" [illustration: "you can't unbuckle that shoe." cervera bottles up schley. mckinley's condition. dewey's situation. after sampson's scalp. america's real desire. castelar writes a letter. "this is for you if you don't behave." spanish cartoons of the spanish-american war. _from the "don quijote" (madrid)._] chapter xxxii the boer war and the dreyfus case a cartoon which was a forerunner of the transvaal war and the railway between capetown and cairo was that entitled "the rhodes colossus," which appeared in _punch_ december 10, 1892. it was by the hand of linley sambourne. it shows a colossal figure of cecil rhodes standing on a map of africa with one foot planted in egypt and the other at the cape. in his hands he holds a line suggesting the telegraph wire connecting the two places. [illustration: the rhodes colossus. _by linley sambourne._] [illustration: the situation in south africa. _by gillam in "judge."_] [illustration: the english world kingdom, or bloody cartography. _from the "lustige blätter."_] although the german government refused to interfere in the protracted struggle in the transvaal, the sympathy of germany with the boers found expression in a host of cartoons, bitterly inveighing against british aggression. thoroughly characteristic is one which appeared in the _lustige blätter_ entitled "english world-kingdom; or, bloody cartography." a grossly distorted caricature of victoria is standing before a map of the world, and dipping her pen in a cup of blood, held for her by an army officer. chamberlain, at her elbow, is explaining that "the lowest corner down yonder, must be painted red!" another of the _lustige blätter's_ grim cartoons, alluding to the terrible price in human life that england paid for her ultimate victory in the transvaal, depicts britannia, as lady macbeth, vainly trying to wash the stain from her bloody hands. "out, damned spot!" in lighter vein is the cartoon which is here reproduced from the _wiener humoristische blätter_ showing "oom paul at his favorite sport." kruger, rakishly arrayed in tennis garb, is extracting infinite enjoyment from the congenial exercise of volleying english soldiers, dressed up as shuttlecocks, over the "transvaal net" into the watery ditch beyond. [illustration: britannia as lady macbeth trying to wash away the stains of the boer war. _from the "lustige blätter."_] [illustration: the flying dutchman. _minneapolis "journal."_] judged by the manner it was mirrored in the caricature of europe and america, the dreyfus case assumed the magnitude of a great war or a crisis in national existence. during the last two or three years that the degraded captain of artillery was a prisoner at devil's island, when zola was furiously accusing, and the general staff was talking about "the honor of the army," and france was divided into two angry camps, one had only to glance at the current cartoons to realize that dreyfus was, as the late g. w. steevens called him, "the most famous man in the world." for a time the great personages of the earth were relegated to the background. the monarchs and statesmen of europe were of interest and importance only so far as their careers affected that of the formerly obscure jewish officer. [illustration: oom paul's favorite pastime. _from the "wiener humoristische blätter."_] [illustration: up against the breastworks.] [illustration: mr. rhodes--the napoleon of south africa. _from the westminster "budget" (london)._] perhaps the most famous of all the admirable cartoons dealing with _l'affaire_ was the "design for a new french bastile," which was of german origin and which caused the paper publishing it to be excluded from french territory. it appeared just after colonel henry had cut his throat with a razor in his cell in the fortress of vincennes, when suspicions of collusion were openly expressed, and some went so far as to hint that the prisoner's death might be a case of murder and not suicide. the "design for a new french bastile" showed a formidable fortress on the lines of the famous prison destroyed in the french revolution with a row of the special cells beneath. in one of these cells a loaded revolver was placed conspicuously on the chair; in the next was seen a sharpened razor; from a stout bar in a third cell dangled a convenient noose. the inference was obvious, and the fact that the cells were labeled "for picquart," "for zola," "for labori" and the other defenders of dreyfus gave the cartoon an added and sinister significance. in caricature the dreyfus case was a battle between a small number of anti-dreyfussard artists on the one hand, and the dreyfus press with all the cartoonists of europe and the united states as its allies on the other. the opportunity to exalt the prisoner, to hold him up as a martyr, to interpret pictorially the spirit of zola's ringing "_la vérité est en marche, et rien ne l'arrêtera_!" offered a vast field for dramatic caricature. on the other hand the cartoon against dreyfus and his defenders was essentially negative, and the wonder is that the rout of the minority was not greater--it should have been a veritable "_sauve qui peut_." [illustration: fire! _from "psst" (paris)._] [illustration: the last phase of the dreyfus case. justice takes dreyfus into her car. _from "amsterdammer."_] the spirit of anti-dreyfussard caricature was anti-semitism. one of the most striking of the cartoons on this side purported to contrast france before 1789 and france at the end of the nineteenth century. in the first picture we were shown a peasant toiling laboriously along a furrow in the ground, bearing on his shoulders a beribboned and beplumed aristocrat of the old régime, whose thighs grip the neck of the man below with the tenacity of the old man of the sea. that was france before the revolution came with its bloody lesson. in the picture showing france at the end of the nineteenth century there was the same peasant toiling along at the bottom, but the burden under which he tottered was fivefold. above him was the petty merchant, who in turn carried on his shoulders the lawyer, and so on until riding along, arrogantly and ostentatiously, at the top was the figure of the foreign-born jew, secure through the possession of his tainted millions. [illustration: toward freedom. madame la république--"welcome, m. le capitaine. let me hope that i may soon return you your sword." _from "punch" (london)._] [illustration: a dutch view. the present condition of the french general staff. _from "amsterdammer."_] [illustration: between scylla and charybdis. waldeck-rousseau--"forward, dear friends, look neither to the right nor the left, and we will win through at last." _from "humoristische blätter" (berlin)._] the dangerous straits through which the waldeck-rousseau ministry was obliged to pass were hit off in a cartoon appearing in the _humoristische blätter_ of berlin, entitled "between scylla and charybdis." on one side of the narrow waterway a treacherous rock shows the yawning jaws of the army. on the other side, equally hideous and threatening, gleam the sharpened teeth of the face typifying the dreyfus party. waldeck-rousseau, appreciating the choppiness of the sea and the dangerous rocks, calls to his gallant crew: "forward, dear friends, look neither to the right nor to the left, and we will win through at last." many of the cartoons dealing with the dreyfus case were mainly symbolic in their nature; full of figures of "justice with her scales," "justice blindfolded and with unsheathed sword," "swords of damocles" and so on. a dutch cartoon in _amsterdammer_, entitled "the last phase of the dreyfus case," showed justice taking the unfortunate captain into her car. the horses drawing the car were led by scheurer-kestner and zola, while following the chariot, to which they are linked by ignominious chains, were the discredited chiefs of the army. the same paper humorously summed up the condition of the french general staff in a picture showing a falling house of which the occupants, pulling at cross-purposes, were accelerating the downfall. the decision upon revision and the dispatching of the spax to cayenne to bring dreyfus back to france was commemorated in london _punch_ in a dignified cartoon called "toward freedom." madame la république greeted dreyfus: "welcome, m. le capitaine. let me hope i may soon return you your sword." the same phase of the case was more maliciously interpreted by _lustige blätter_ of berlin in a cartoon entitled "at devil's island," which showed the master of the island studying grinningly a number of officers whom he held in the hollow of his hand, and saying: "they take away one captain from me: but look here, a whole handful of generals! oh, after all, the arrangement is not so bad." [illustration: at devil's island. the master of the island.--"they take away one captain from me; but look here, a whole handful of generals! oh, after all, the arrangement is not so bad." _from "lustige blätter" (berlin)._] chapter xxxiii the men of to-day with the spanish-american war, the _affaire dreyfus_ in france, and england's long struggle for supremacy in the transvaal, the period arbitrarily chosen as the scope of this book comes to a brilliant and dramatic close. but the cartoonist's work is never done. nimble pencils are still busy, as in the days of rowlandson and gillray, in recording and in influencing the trend of history. and although, now and again during the past century, there has been some individual cartoonist whose work has stood out more boldly and prominently than the work of any one of our contemporaries in europe or in this country stands out to-day, there has never been a time in the whole history of comic art when caricature has held such sway and maintained such dignity, and has enlisted in her service so many workers of the first talent and rank. without alluding to the men of france and england, what an array it is that contemporary american caricature presents! c. g. bush of the new york _world_, charles nelan of the new york _herald_, frederick burr opper and homer davenport of the new york _american and journal_, mahoney of the washington _star_, bradley of the chicago _evening-news_, may of the detroit _journal_, "bart" of the minneapolis _journal_, mayfield of the new orleans _times-democrat_, victor gillam, carrying on the traditions of his brother--rogers, walker, hedrick, bowman, mccutcheon, lambdin, wallace, leipziger, berryman, holme, bartholemew, carter, steele, powers, barritt--and to name these men does not nearly exhaust the list of those artists whose clever work has amused and unconsciously influenced hundreds of thousands of thinking american men and women. [illustration: c. g. bush of "the world." the dean of active american cartoonists.] [illustration: willie and his papa. "what on earth are you doing in there, willie?" "teddy put me in. he says it's the best place for me during the campaign."] there are interest and significance in the fact that a majority of the ablest caricaturists of to-day are devoting their talents almost exclusively to the daily press. it is an exacting sort of work, exhaustive both physically and mentally. the mere idea of producing a single daily cartoon, week in and week out,--thirty cartoons a month, three hundred and sixty-five cartoons a year, with the regularity of a machine,--is in itself appalling. and yet a steadily growing number of artists are turning to this class of work, and one reason for this is that they realize that through the medium of the daily press their influence is more far-reaching than it possibly can be in the pages of the comic weeklies, and that at the same time the exigencies of journalism allow more scope for individuality than do the carefully planned cartoons of papers like _puck_ or _judge_. speed and originality are the two prime requisites of the successful newspaper cartoon of to-day, a maximum of thought expressed in a minimum of lines, apposite, clear-cut, and incisive, like a well-written editorial. indeed, our leading cartoonists regard their art as simply another and especially telling medium for giving expression to editorial opinion. mr. bush, "the dean of american caricaturists," may be said to have spoken for them all when he said, in a recent interview, that he looks upon a cartoon as an editorial pure and simple. "to be a success it should point a moral. exaggeration and a keen sense of humor are only adjuncts of the cartoonist, for he must deal with real people. he must also be a student. i am obliged not only to use my pencil, but to study hard, and read everything i can lay my hands on. the features of roosevelt, bryan, hanna, and croker may be familiar to me, but i must know what these men are doing. i must also know what the masses behind these popular characters think and believe." [illustration: homer davenport, of the "new york american and journal."] another direct result of the influence of journalism upon caricature, in addition to that of compelling the artist to keep in closer touch than ever before with contemporary history, is the growing popularity of the series method--a method which dates back to the macaire of philipon and the mayeux of traviès, and which consists in portraying day by day the same more or less grotesque types, ever undergoing some new and absurd adventure. it is a method which suits the needs of artist and public alike. to the former, his growing familiarity with every line and detail of the features and forms of his pictorial puppets minimizes his daily task, while the public, even that part of the public which is opposed to comic art in general, or is out of sympathy with the political attitude of a certain series in particular, finds itself gradually becoming familiar with the series, through fugitive and unexpected glimpses, and ends by following the series with amusement and interest and a growing curiosity as to what new and absurd complications the artist will next introduce. this employment of the series idea is as successful in social as political satire. mr. outcault's "yellow kid" and "buster brown," mr. opper's "happy hooligan" and "alphonse and gaston," gene carr's "lady bountiful," and carl schultze's "foxy grandpa" are types that have won friends throughout the breadth of the continent. in the domain of strictly political caricature, however, there is no series that has attracted more attention than homer davenport's familiar conception of the trusts, symbolized as a bulky, overgrown, uncouth figure, a primordial giant from the stone age. and since there have been a number of apocryphal stories regarding the source of mr. davenport's inspiration, it will not be without interest to print the artist's own statement. "as a matter of fact," he says, "i got the idea in st. mark's square in venice. seeing a flock of pigeons flying about in that neighborhood i immediately, with my love of birds and beasts, determined by fair means or foul to purloin a pair. i watched them fly hither and thither, and in following them came across a statue of samson throwing some man or other--i forget his name--to the ground. the abnormal size of the muscles of the figure struck me at once, and turning round to my wife, who was with me, i said with a sudden inspired thought, 'the trusts!'" [illustration: davenport's conception of the trusts.] of equal importance are the various series in lighter vein through which mr. opper aims to lead people to the same way of thinking politically as the paper which he serves. long years of labor and constant production do not seem to have in any way drained his power of invention, for no sooner has one series done its work, and before the public has become sated with it, than an entirely new line of cartoons is introduced. mr. opper, as well as mr. davenport, has had his fling at and drawn his figure of the trusts, and to place the two figures side by side is to contrast the methods and work of the men. mr. opper's purpose seems to be, first of all, to excite your mirth, and consequently he never fails to produce a certain effect. when you take up one of his cartoons in which the various stout, sturdy, and well-fed gentlemen typifying the different trusts are engaged in some pleasant game the object of which is the robbing, or abusing of the pitiable, dwarfish figure representative of the common people, your first impulse is a desire to laugh at the ludicrous contrast. it is only afterwards that you begin to think seriously how badly the abject little victim is being treated, and what a claim he has upon your sympathy and indignation. in those series which are designed entirely along party lines, such as "willie and his papa," this method is even more effective, since it begins by disarming party opposition. of such men, and the younger draughtsmen of to-day, much more might be written with sympathetic understanding and enthusiasm. but most of them belong rather to the century that has just begun rather than that which has lately closed, and a hundred years from now, whoever attempts to do for the twentieth century a service analogous to that which has here been undertaken for the nineteenth, will find an infinitely ampler and richer store of material, thanks to this group of younger satirists in the full flood of their enthusiasm, who are valiantly carrying on the traditions of the men of the past--of leech and tenniel, of daumier, and philipon, and cham and andré gill, of nast and keppler and gillam, and who have already begun to record with trenchant pencil the events that are ushering in the dawn of the new century. the end [illustration: yours till deth majer jack downing] letters of major jack downing, of the downingville militia. "the constitution is a dimmycratic machine, and it's got to be run as a dimmycratic machine, or it _won't run at all_!" --majer jack downing to lincoln. third edition. new york: van evrie, horton & co., no. 162 nassau street, printing house square. 1866. entered according to act of congress, by bromley & co., in the year 1864, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new york lovejoy & son, electrotypers & stereotypers, 15 vandewater st., n.y. contents. page. letter i. the major announces that he "still lives"--the reason why he has not spoken before--writes to "president linkin," who at once sends for him--how lincoln shakes hands--his troubles--the major's advice-lincoln to get an "appintment on gineral mcclellan's staff"--a story about old rye, from mr. lincoln. 15 letter ii. deacon jenkins, of downingville, sent for to cut and make the president's uniform--a provoking accident--mr. lincoln tells a story--the major as a "commentater" on the constitution--mrs. lincoln's party--"insine stebbins, of the downingville insensibles, writes a paradox for the occasion"--the major gets angry--lincoln tells a story about virginia mud. 23 letter iii. the major has an attack of the ague and fever--begins to get the hang of matters at washington--mr. lincoln's improvement in "military nollege"--studying "stratygims" for gen. mcclellan--the major suggests a difficulty--mr. stanton called on--the negroes at port royal--"the nigger-teachin fever"--deacon jenkins' daughter goes to port royal to teach the negroes. 32 letter iv. a delegation calls upon the president--the major indignant--mr. lincoln tells a story--curious composition of the republican party--difficulty of keeping it together--the president hopes to do it by "sloshin about"--deacon jenkins again--he is a temperance man, but takes a glass of old rye. 40 letter v. a blue time--the major wins a hat of the president--the richmond expedition of gen. mcclellan--mr. lincoln's trick on the major--a letter from jerusha matilda jenkins--she gives her experience in negro-teaching--priscella huggins and elder sniffles--cloe, the negro girl who "could not be good unless she was licked"--a negro meeting--dancing and singing--the unpleasant odor--negroes steal miss huggins' clothes--they purloin jerusha's petticoat--it is thought that their religion is not "very deep"--mr. lincoln hears the letter read--he declares that port royal is a "cussed hole" --deacon jenkins shocked--he proves it by the scriptures. 48 letter vi. the question of the "contrybands"--lincoln and the major discuss it--the major tells a story--shows mr. lincoln that the government is out of order--says it's a "dimmycratic machine," and that seward and chase don't know how to run it--they are like old jim dumbutter and the thrashing machine--the major tells another story--"the kernel" gets a joke on seward--tells a story about the "giascutis." 59 letter vii. war "noose"--the president's anxiety--mr. lincoln determines to apply "the principle"--the story of zenas homespun--the major's views on negroes--poetry--the emancipation ball--the major going to "cifer" on the finances. 67 letter viii. matters get confused--the "kernel and the major" compelled to go to fortress monroe to straighten things out--mr. lincoln takes his revolver--the major sticks to his hickory--arrival at fort monroe --they go on a "tippergraphical rekonnisanze"--a night alarm-secretary stanton tries to get on the president's pantaloons. 75 letter ix. the major figures on the "nashinal debt"--horse contracts and "abolishin preechers"--banks defeated--the major suggests a new-fashioned shield, expressly for retreats--a wheelbarrow for every soldier!--excitement in washington--the president not scared "a hooter." 82 letter x. the major troubled with his old complaint, the "rumatics"--he examines the finances--mr. chase frightened--the major figures up the accounts on his slate--returns and shows the result to mr. lincoln--he is astounded--the "kernel and the major" take some old rye--the major proposes to return to downingville to spend the fourth of july. 88 letter xi. the major does not go to downingville--loses his hickory--gets a bottle of whiskey by adams express co.--the major declines to sign the receipt at first--whiskey and the constitution--"the constitushinal teliskope"--a magical change--mr. seward's trick-the major discovers it--a negro in it. 99 letter xii. the major disappointed--meets the president at west point--sees gen. scott--they talk over strategy--returns to philadelphia with the president--makes a speech at jersey city--mr. lincoln also speaks--meets seward at the astor house--a wheel within a wheel-mr. seward caught. 108 letter xiii. the major returns to washington--things get mixed up--lincoln and the panther--splitting rails and the union--the major and the president visit gen. mcclellan's army--going up james river--alarm of the rebels--exciting scene on board the boat--nobody hurt--the president reviews the troops at harrison's landing--the return trip--the president and party bathe in the potomac--almost a catastrophe--the major's life-preserver--the moral of it--the president proposes a conundrum. 116 letter xiv. the president has an attack of fever and ague--the major prescribes elder-bark tea--a fearful mistake--the bark scraped the wrong way--mr. lincoln has to be rolled--stanton, seward and the major-a ludicrous scene--the "kernel" comes to and begins to joke--the moral of taking the wrong medicine--"the irrepressible conflict." 125 letter xv. gen. mcclellan's change of base--a bear story--a delegation of clergymen--the major's opinion on negroes and "edecated peepel"--how general jackson saw through them--how the war is to end--mr. lincoln tells another story. 133 letter xvi. the science of "military strutegy"--the major's opinion upon it--a call from the secretary of the american and foreign benevolent society for ameliorating the condition of the colored race--his speech--the president's reply--a curious prayer--the major's opinion on slavery--the critical condition of affairs--mr. lincoln tells a story. 141 letter xvii. a cabinet meeting--the president calls for the opinion of each member--speeches of seward, chase, stanton, blair, welles, smith and bates--the major called on for an opinion--the peperage log story--the major proposes an armistice--no conclusion arrived at. 150 letter xviii. the major not ill--the president has "the gripes"--the witch-hazel medicine--going to the bottom of a subject--the democrats and the war--the emancipation proclamation--a visit to gen. mcclellan's army--the soldiers cool--mr. lincoln tells a story--"sloshing about." 159 letter xix. the president nervous--the state elections--mr. lincoln astonished --he takes cordial--mr. seward turns democrat--the major tells a story--mr. seward and the major take a drink--how john van buren got gen. scott's letter--mr. stanton on the elections. 168 letter xx. the new york election--mr. lincoln tells a story--cannot do justice to the subject--mr. lincoln feels bad--the major amuses him by a joke--how to get up a message--keeping a party together--the excelsior political prepared glue--the different stripes of abolitionists--boating on the mississippi river--poleing along. 175 letter xxi. the message--a cabinet council--speeches of seward, chase, stanton, welles, blair and bates--mr. lincoln tells a story--the major gives his opinion--mr. chase accuses him of disloyalty--the major demands a retraction--it is given. 182 letter xxii. the message finished--mr. sumner says it is not grammatical--the major's excuse--mr. sumner finds fault with the major's spelling --the major stumps him--he gives his views on "edication"--mr. lincoln proposes a conundrum--the major tells a story--mr. seward's opinion on the war. 191 letter xxiii. the major goes to see the postmaster-general about stopping papers--mr. blair promises to release them--the president again in trouble--a change in the cabinet demanded--the major suggests a remedy for "the crysis." 199 letter xxiv. the emancipation proclamation--the way to get to richmond--splitting the union--the major tells a story about splitting--the president gets indignant--seizes the boot-jack--the major pacifies him--a dream--the major returns to downingville. 207 letter xxv. the major feels sorrowful over the fate of his country--the story of the black heifer--the man who made a "siss"--the union--"insine" stebbins again--his reception at downingville--"the insensibles"--a provoking accident. 214 letter xxvi. the democratic party whipped--things as bad as they can be--a story in point--mr. lincoln sends for the major again--the major writes him a letter--the return of "kernel" stebbins, formerly "insine" --his reception at downingville--"kernel" doolittle's speech-"kernel" stebbins' reply--elder sniffles' preaches a sermon. 221 letter xxvii. the major starts for washington--takes his axe with him--mr. lincoln glad to see him--the cabinet in session--the opinion of seward, chase, stanton and others--the major called on for an opinion--the story of old sam odum--mr. stanton gets excited. 228 letter xxviii. the major and the "kernel" at work on the message--the major visits mr. chase again--sees the machines for printing greenbacks--a machine for every general--the accounts mixed up--mr. lincoln gets flighty over them--the major puts him to bed, and applies a mustard-plaster--he revives, and proposes a conundrum--the major also proposes one. 235 letter xxix. the trouble about the message--chase and seward find fault with it--the story of old deacon grimes' oven--mr. lincoln overrun with visitors--the major suggests a way to get rid of them--the small pox dodge--the message finished--mr. lincoln tells a story. 242 letter xxx. the major visits parson blair--the loyal leaguers of the white house--a wonderful dream--the grave of the union--the president don't like it--about leather--how the capital looks. 248 introduction. downingville, july 15, 1864. _to the editors of the da-book_: surs: i got your letter tellin me that mister bromley and kumpany wanted to print my letters in book form, and as you seem to think they understand such kind of work, and are proper persons to do it, i ain't got eny perticaler objecshins. it is now jest thirty years sence my first book of letters was printed by harper and kumpany, but i hear that they have turned abolishinists sence then, and if that is so, i wouldn't let 'em print a book of mine for love nor money. after i got your letter, i sot down and writ the kernel, askin his opinion as to printin the letters in book form, and he wrote back to me rite off, saying i must do it without fale. the kernel has got 'em all cut out of the papers and put in a scrap book, but it's kinder onhandy, and he wants to get 'em in better shape. i've promised him that you would send him a copy jest as soon as it was out, and you must not fale to tell bromley and kumpany to do so. i also writ the kernel that i thought it would be a good idee to issue a proclamashin, ordering all the people to buy the book, espeshilly the loyal leegers, the soldiers in the army, all the tax-collectors, custom-house officers, provo-marshalls, postmasters, copperheads, war dimmecrats, abolishinists, black republikins, etc., etc. the kernel sed it was a capital idee, and he told me to write it for him. he sed seward had wrote most all of his proclamashins, but he would trust me to write this. he sed he looked upon my letters as "pub. doc," and hence congrissmen ought to frank 'em, and reed 'em, too. he said he didn't mind the little jokes in 'em on him, for ef there was anything on arth he could forgive a man for, it was for makin a joke. he didn't see how eny one who knew enuf to make one could help doin it. so i have writ a proclamashin, which you will find at the bottom of this letter, which you can print with it. i think when ginneral banks, and rosykrans, and all them ginnerals who sometimes stop books and papers, read it, they will understand that it will not answer to interfere with my book. there is one thing that makes me a little bashful about publishin a book. my eddicashin was not very well taken keer of when i was a boy, and the consequence is, i ain't quite so smart in grammer and spellin as sum peepil. but one thing is certain, i allers make myself understood, and that, after all, is the main thing. i want bromley and kumpany to fix up the spellin a leetle, and then i think the book will pass muster. i don't ever expect to live to write anuther book; in fact, i don't want to. i have labored as hard for the good of my kentry as any man in it, and yet i've lived to see it all go to rack and ruin. i don't raly know whether i shall write anuther letter, for a man of my years don't feel like such work. but there is one thing i feel sure of. though the clouds look dark and black now, and though i don't expect to live to see everything all rite again, yet the dimmocracy will triumph in the end. there is no blottin that out. it is in the natur of things. peepel are naterally dimmocrats, so old ginneral jackson used to say, and it takes a good deal of hard lying to make 'em enything else. sometimes the liars get the upper-hand for a time, jest as they have now, but it can't last always. i don't want you to put any preface to my book, for i have most always found that prefaces are filled full of falsehoods. i jest want my book to go on its merits, if it has eny. i've tried to tell the truth about politics, as i understand it, and ef linkin had only taken my advice, the kentry would now be nigh about as good as new. but he wouldn't do it, and so i've left him to get out of the scrape he is in the best way he can. the kernel, however, don't think any the less of me because i've been plane with him. he thinks my idees of niggers are all rong, and i think his are all rong, and there is jest where we split, for turn this question upside down or inside out, and, after all, the nigger is at the bottom of it. jest as a man's idees run on niggers, jest about in that style will be his views on the war. take an out-an-out abolishinist, who thinks niggers are a little better than white folks, and he is for subjugashin, confiskashin, and exterminashin to the bitter end. ef he thinks niggers are jest as good as white folks, but no better, then he is a little milder on the south; and so on down through every grade of a war man, the bitterness agin the south runs jest about even with the ignorince about niggers. finally, the man who knows jest what niggers are fit for and what they need to make 'em useful and happy, is the strongest opponent of the war. so you see this proves that the nigger is at the bottom of the hull war. there are, however, a good many things that make matters worse. greenbacks, offices, &c. are terribul upon corruptin the peepul. almost every other man has an office now-a-days, and them that ain't got office are interested in greenbacks. it will take a hard pull to get the present party out of power; but ef the dimmocrats will only be honest and plucky, they can do it. i want to live long enuff to vote the dimmocratic ticket this fall, and help do it. yours till deth, majer jack downing * * * * * "a. linkin's proclamashin concerning majer jack downing's book. "washington, july 15, 1864. "whereas, my friend, majer jack downing, of the downingville milisha, has issued a book of letters, containing his views on public affairs, the war, &c., &c. "now, therefore, i do hereby issue this my proclamashin, enjoyning upon every loyal as well as disloyal citisen, includin loyal leegers, abolishinists, republikans, war dimmocrats, copperheads, clay banks, charcoals, &c., to buy this book and to read the same, under penalty of the confiscation of all their property, including niggers of every decripshin. furthermore, all officers under me, whether civil, military, or otherwise, are hereby ordered, under penalty of court marshal, to purchase the sed book and read it. this order applies to all postmasters and their clerks (who are also ordered to assist in the sale of the book), to all custom-house officials, to all provo-marshalls, to all tax collectors, assessors, recruteing officers, runners, brokers, bounty jumpers, and espeshally to all government swindlers, contractors, defaulters, &c., to all furrin ambassadors, ministers penetentiaries, and their secretaries of litigation, also to ministers of the gospil, tract distributers, nigger missionaries, male and female, &c., &c. furthermore, ginnerals grant, sherman, and all other ginnerals, includin ginneral banks, will see to it that the majer's letters are widely circulated in their armies, as the menny good stories of mine, as well as the majer's, in the book, will keep the sojers in good sperits. "furthermore, if eny disloyal edditer shall presume to say enything against this book, or advise eny person not to sell or circulate the same, or aid and abet them in so doing, he shall at once be arrested and his paper stopped. "further, if eny person, in order to avoid the penalties mentioned above, shall borrow said book, he shall, if it be proved, be fined $1000 in gold. if there be no proof, he shall be sent to fort la fayette. "finally, every person purchasing a copy of the majer's letters shall be exempt from the draft. all others are at once to be seized and sent to the front. "done in this my city of washington, in the fourth year of my reign. "a. linkin." letters of major jack downing. letter i. _the major announces that he "still lives"--the reason why he has not spoken before--writes to "president linkin," who at once sends for him--how lincoln shakes hands--his troubles--the major's advice --lincoln to get an "appintment on gineral mcclellan's staff"--a story about old rye, from mr. lincoln._ washington, feb. 4th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin, new york:_ surs: i 'spose eenamost everybody believed i wus ded, 'cause they 'aint seen any letters of mine in the papers for a good while. but it taint so. i'me alive, and though i can't kick quite as spry as i used to, yet i kin ride a hossback about as good as i could twenty year ago. i am now nigh on eighty years old, and yet, except getting tuckered out easier than i used to, i believe i feel jest about as smart as i did when i was a boy. the last letters i writ fer the papers was about ten years ago, when i went all around the country with kossoot, and showed him the sights. sence then i've been livin' in downingville, county of penobscot, state of maine, and enjoyin' in gineral a good state of helth. but if the public haint heard from me it taint because i wasn't keepin' a close eye on matters and things. but the sartin truth is jest here: i seen, a good while ago, how things was shapin'. i told kossoot that the pesky abolishunests would ruin him, and thay did, and i've knowed for a long time that thay would run this country off the dimokratic track and smash it all to flinders. wall, they've done it. you may wunder why i haint spoke and told the country all this before. wall, the reason is jest here: i saw that the breechin' was broke some years ago, and there is no use of talkin or hollerin "whoa!" "whoa!" after that. i've seen the laziest old hoss that ever lived kick and run like all possessed as soon as the shafts tetched his heels, and that's jest the condishun we've been in in this country for some time. we've been kickin' and runnin' and raisin' the old scratch ginerally for ten years, all about these darned kinky-heded niggers. as there is no use of tryin' to stop a runaway hoss after the breechin' brakes until he gets to the bottom of the hill, so there is no use of talkin' to a country while it is goin' in the same direcshun. didn't noah preech to a hull generashun of aunty-deluvens, and it warn't any use. they lafed him rite in the face; and cum round him and axed what he intended to do with a boat full of chicken coops, hoss stables, and so on. and at last, when the rain begun to cum down like all possessed, they swore it "warn't much of a freshet arter all." wall, jest so it is with this generashun. i spect the _aunty_-slaveryites are sum relashun to the _aunty_-deluvens, and that accounts for their simelur behaveyur. but i think that we've got most to the bottom of the hill now, and it is about time to get things rited up in some sort of shape. havin come to this conclushin, about ten days ago i wrote a letter to president linkin, tellin him how that gineral jackson's old friend was yet alive, and that if he wanted my sarvices or advice i would come on to washington and help him thro'. wall, i got a letter rite back, in which linkin said he "was tickled all into a heap to hear that gineral jackson's old friend, major jack downing, was still alive, and that he wanted me to cum on to washington rite off." so i put off, like shot off a shovel, and dident even stop in york a day, or i should have called to see you. the truth is, i'me darned glad i cum. i went rite up to the white house, which looks as nateral as when gineral jackson and i lived there, and sent in my keerd. in a minnit the sarvent cum back, and ses he, "walk up." i went up-stairs, and then into linkin's room, and you never seed a feller gladder to see a man than he was to see me. he got hold of my hand, and ses he, "major, you are a brick. i've thought a thousand times that if i only had such a friend as gineral jackson had in you, that i could git along as easy as snuff. but ye see, major, all these pollyticens are a set of tarnel hyppercrits, and i hate 'em." and he kept talkin and shakin my hand until i thot hed sprain my rist. so i ses, "mr. linkin, i can't stand hard squeezin as well as i used to, so don't hold on quite so hard." then he apologized, and said "how he was so anxus to see me that he was almost crazy." i told him that "i hed cum to see him through, jist as i did gineral jackson, and that i would stick by him as long as their was a shirt to his back, if he would only do rite." "wall," ses he, "major, that is jist what i want to do. but its awful hard work to tell what is rite. here i am pulled first one way and then tother." now, ses i, "linkin, i'me goin to talk rite out to you. the fact is, there never was a president that had such a party at his back as you've got. you see its made up of old whigs, abolitionists and free sile dimmycrats. now, there ain't any more rale mixture to this conglommyrate than there is to ile and water. the truth is, i'd as soon take illinoy muck, and jersey mud, and massachusetts cobble stuns to make a fine coat mortar of, as i would to get such materials to put into a pollytical party. you can't never make them gee." "wal," ses he, "major, i've began to think that way myself. the truth is, i've been trying all summer to please everybody, and the more i try to do it the more i don't succeed. when i am conservative, then the aunty-slaveryites come down on me like all possessed, with old hor_ass_ gree_lie_ at their hed. when i go a little t'other way, then the conservatives and my old neighbors, the kentuckians, they come down upon me, and that takes me right off the handle. i can't stand it. so you see, major, i'm in hot water all the time." "i see your troubles," ses i, "mr. linkin, and i'll have to look about some days afore i can get the exact hang of things, but as soon as i do, i'll make matters as clear as a pipe stem." "wal," ses he, "major, i want you to make yourself to hum, and jist call for anything you want." i told him there warn't but two things that i keered for except victuals, and that was a pipe and tobacco, and jist a little old rye, now and then. that gave him the hint, and linkin rang a bell, and a sneakin lookin feller, in putty bad clothes, made his appearance. linkin told him to get some tobacco and the black bottle. the feller soon fetched them in, and linkin said that that "old rye" was twenty years old, and jist about the best licker he ever drank. he said he found it very good to quiet his nerves after a hard day's work. i told him that that was jist what gineral jackson always said--"did he?" ses linkin; "wal," ses he, "i only want to imitate jackson. that would be glory enough for me." "wal, now," ses i, "linkin, the first thing you must do, in order to be poplar, is to be a military man. that was the way jackson got up in the world, and if i had never been a major, i really believe i'de never been heerd of out of downingville. now, jist as soon as the people believe you are an officer, with epaulettes on, they'll think you are the greatest man that ever lived." "wal," ses linkin, "i think that is a first chop idea. how can it be carried out?" "wal," ses i, "you must get _an appintment on gin. mcclellan's staff_! with the rank of _kernel_. nothing short of that will answer at all. then get a splendid uniform and a fine hoss, and have the papers describe them, and get up pictures, and the shop-keepers will have their windows full of lithographs, and in six months you will be the most poplar man in the country, and sure to be next president." when i sed that, he jumped right up, and ses he, "major, you're worth your weight in gold. you have hit the nail right on the head. i'll do it; by the eternal, i'll settle this trouble yet." "that's the talk," ses i. "just put your foot down, and let it stay down, and you may be sure it will all come out right." then linkin sed to me, ses he, "major, take a good swig of this old rye. if you feel sick, have got a cold, or looseness in the bowells, or need physic, or have got the rheumatiz, or pane in the back, or the headache, there's nothen like old rye to set you on your pins just as good as new. why, major, let me tell you a story:--there was a feller out west, who got a splinter in his foot. he was splittin' rails one day, and the axe glanced off, and sent a piece of chestnut timber in his heel about as big as an axe-handle. wal, he tried everything on 'arth. finally, he came to me, and i gave him some old rye, and the splinter came out in five minutes afterwards." "wal," ses i, "linkin, that is a purty good story, and old rye is a capital drink, but as for medicin', giv' me my old stuff, elderberry bark tea. it's handy to use. scrape it downwards, and it makes a fust rate fisic, and scrape it upwards it is a capital emetic. the only danger is that you scrape it round-about-ways, when it stirs up a young earthquake in a man's bowells equal to mount vesuvius on a bust. kossoot made a mistake of this kind once, and i had to hed him up in a flour barrel, and roll him round the room afore he cum to." when linkin heard how i rolled kossoot in a flour barrel, he laid back and larfed as hard as he could roar, and said he hadn't felt in such good spirits since he had been in washington. i telled him he musn't get the blews, and that i should cheer him up. then he tuk me by the han' and bid me a very feelin' good-night, and the feller in bad clothes showed me to my room. i slept as sound as a bug in a rug all night, and feel good as new this mornin'. i shall soon get things straightened out here, i hope, and if anything interestin' happens, you may hear from me agin. your friend till deth, majer jack downing. letter ii. _deacon jenkins, of downingville, sent for to cut and make the president's uniform--a provoking accident--mr. lincoln tells a story--the major as a "commentater" on the constitution--mrs. lincoln's party--"insine stebbins, of the downingville insensibles, writes a paradox for the occasion"--the major gets angry--lincoln tells a story about virginia mud._ washington, feb. 15, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin_: surs:--didn't i tell you that, as soon as i got here, i would straiten things out? you never see a happier man, now-a-days, than linkin is. when i cum here he was eenamost reddy to go into a hasty consumpshin. he had been lettin things go on at loose eends, with two or three fellers managing things, and they were eternally pullin' jest as many ways. linkin had been in the habit of sayin' that he warnt no military man. i telled him he must stop that at onct--that he knowed jest as much as eny of 'em. so when i told him he must be a kernel, he at once went in for it. wal, i hev bin jist as busy as a bee in a tar bucket gettin' his solger clothes reddy. i sent clear to maine to get deacon jenkins, who made all the clothes for the downingville insensibles, and he arrived here last week. it ain't no easy matter to cut for linkin's figer, but i knowed the deacon could do it, if eny body on arth could. but deacon jenkins, you see, is a small, stumpy man, not much longer than he is wide--while linkin is eenamost as tall as a rail, and mity near as slim. wal, i hadn't thought of this; so when the deacon cum he couldn't measure linkin round the neck for a military stand up coller, eny more than he could climb a been pole. linkin sed he'd git down on his nees, or on all fores, if necessary, but i wouldn't let him, 'cause it would be wantin' in dignity. so i got two cheers, and laid a board acrost 'em, and deacon jenkins got up on 'em. while he was standin' ther, the board broke, and down come the deacon rite on the floor, makin' the white house all shake agin. he turned dredful red in the face, but linkin sed "it warnt a suckemstance to a fall he onct had out of a chestnut tree. he sed, when he was a boy he used to go out, and jest for a breakfast spell split a load of rails. one mornin' he clumb a tree to get some young crows out of a nest, and the lim broke and down he cum full thirty feet. sum people thought he was ded, but he allers believed it was the resin he was so tall, for he started groin rite off after that, and didn't stop till he was six feet five inches!" [illustration: "while he was standin' there, the boord broke, and down cum the deacon rite on the floor."--page 24.] by the time linkin got tru tellin' his story, the deacon hed got up on the cheers agin and tuk the measure. then he hed the clothes made, and in three days they cum hum all rite. wal, i wish the hull country could see the kernel (i call him kernel all the time now) in his new clothes. he looks like a new man, and, what is more, he acts like a new one. the other day i telled him he must giv the orders to the new seckretary of war, but he kinder held back, and sed he didn't like tu take too much on his shoulders at onct. besides, he didn't feel it was right for a kernel tu dictate in that way. then i telled him that the place was only a complimentery one, but that he was raley a ginneral and a commydore all in one. wal, he sed "he couldn't see intu that." them i telled him how that the constetushin sed that he was "commander-in-cheef of the army and navy," and that that made him a ginneral and a commydore. wen i sed that, he jumped out of his cheer and ses he, "majer, you are jest about the keenest commentater on the constetushin i ever heerd talk. why, majer, ef i had only thought of that, i would hev put it into my inaugerole. wouldn't it hev made a sensashin?" wal, ever since the kernel has tuk the ribbins into his hands, he has been puttin' things rite thru, and victeries hev cum along jest as fast as possibul. linkin is a terribul feller to work wen he has a mind to. he run secketary stantin into a fit of the vertegris the very furst week he went into the harniss, and as for the other members of the cabbynet, there ain't one that kin hold a kandil to him. ther's bin a terribul time about the financies since i hev bin here; but the victeries in kentuckee and rowingoak hev made a good many long faces look as good-natured as ef the union was all rite agin. i telled ginneral wilsin, from massa-chew-sits, the other day, that he orter vote a gold meddle to the president in honer of the good noose, but somnure wanted to insart the wilmut proviso in the bill, and so i wouldn't hev nothin to du with it. i don' expec' that, after all, they'll be willin' to giv' linkin the credit he desarves, for ther' ain't a man here, from a senatur in congriss down to a sargant of the hoss mareens, who don't expec' tu be next president. wall, i hev run on so about politicks and so forth, that i eenamost forgot to tell you about mrs. linkin's party. i've seen a good many big things in that way sence i was a boy, but this was a leetle ahead of all. the sojers, and the wimmen, and the cabbynet, and the forren ministers pennitenshery, with their seckateries of litegashin, were all ther. the tables were all kivered over with sugar frost, eenamost as white as a maine snow bank, and mrs. linkin luked like a young gal jest out of schule. the way she did intertane the kumpany was a caushin to peepul who don't know the ropes. insine stebbins, of the downingville insensibles, was ther, and ef ther is a smart feller in the army, the insine is one. he kin rite poetry almost equil to longfeller, and as for singin', the italian band-ditty can't begin with him. wen the kumpany were sot down to the table, deacon jenkins was kalled on to say grace, and wen they got thru, the hull kumpany kalled on insine stebbins to sing a paradox which he had kumposed specially for the occashin, as follers: from varmount's icy mountins, from licker hatin' maine, where streems of goldin wisky go strate agin the grane; from menny a country cawkis, from menny a country shop, we cum to greet thee, linkin, at this here linkin hop! wot tho' the nor'-west breezes blow sum o'er georgetown hill, and likewise also freezes the troops at turner's mill? wat tho' the army hosses die off for want of food? we'll drink old rye with abram, because old rye is good. wot tho' the yankee nashin pores out the warlike flud, and sogers of all stashin are stashined in the mud? wot tho' the sly contracters defraud us rite and left, and uncle sam's old stockin' of all his cash is reft? wot tho' the taxis plague us, and heeps of corn must spile, wile poor folks three times over their coffee-grounds must bile? does not grate dr. cheever, (and shall he speke in vain?) command us to delivur the land from slavery's chane? shall we whose harts are litened with rye, and cake and wine, shall we to cuff and dinah give nought but crust and rine? abolition! abolition! the joyful sound proclame, till each remotest nigger has learned the linkin name! "amen! seel-er!" yelled out deacon jenkins, at the very tip-top of his voice, wile nigh about the hull kumpany seemed to be hily tickled, except linkin and his wife and me. i was so mad that i eenamost bust my biler. i went rite strate up to the insine, and ses i, "insine stebbins, i knowed you and deacon jenkins was both red-hot abolishunests, but i tho't all the folks in downingville had kommun sence, and wood know better than to interduce pollyticks on a festiv occashin, specially anything faverabul to cheever and gree-lie and kumpany, who are the hull time abusin' linkin and mrs. linkin." then the insine said that sumnure had helped him rite the paradox, jest on purpose to see how linkin wood like it. "wal," i told him, "that that was jest as much sence as well as manners as i shud expect from sumnure." then deacon jenkins cum up and sed sumthing, and i lit on him for hollerin' "amen" rite afore the hull diplomatick core, jest as ef he'd been at a prayer meetin' in the downingville schule house. mrs. linkin was very much pleased at the way i laid down the law to the deacon. the kernel didn't say much, but looked daggers out of his ize, and seemed nigh about as cross as a cross-cut saw all the rest of the evenin'. the bawl, how-sumever, went off in all other respecs in furst rate stile, and mrs. linkin is now regarded as the very a-leet of fashin. there's not much else that's new this week. the roads have been in an impassabul condishin for some time, and unless some feller kin invent a patent rite for settin' them up edge ways to drene, i don't believe they'll be scasely settled before the summer solstis. i telled linkin i never seed such mud in my born days. "wal," ses he, "let me tell you a story about mud. virginny can't hold a kandel to illinoy in that respect. one time a man was travellin' 'long the road jest a little nor-east of springfield, wen he found a hat layin' in the mud, rite in the middel of the road. he stepped out keerful to get it, and he was all struck up a heep to find a man's hed under it, and he in the mud clean up to his very chin. 'darn my pectur, nabor, if you ain't in a fix. cum, let me git hold of you, and i'll help pull you out.' 'no! no!' sed the feller in the mud, spittin' out the dirty water; 'no! no! i don't want your help--much ableeged to you--for i've got a good hoss under me, and he'll fetch me out as sure as preachin!'" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i shan't try to match that story to-day." the truth is, that i didn't feel like it. i've bin kinder under the wether since the bawl. washington is a terrible place for nager and fever, and all kinds of billyus kemplantes. one of the president's leetle shavers has bin dangrus sick for sum daze, but i hope he'll rekiver. i got yuere letter tellin' me that sum of yuere subscriburs wanted me to rite a letter every week for yuere paper. wal, i will, if i kin, but i can't promis sartin. you see an old man nigh on eighty years old don't feel jest limber enuf to rite at any and all times, but wenever i hevn't got the lumbager or rumatiz, and my ideas ain't froze up, you'll heer from me, once in two weeks, and perhaps oftener, wen the weather gets more stedy. your friend, majer jack downing. letter iii. _the major has an attack of the ague and fever--begins to get the hang of matters at washington--mr. lincoln's improvement in "military nollege"--studying "stratygims" for gen. mcclellan--the major suggests a difficulty--mr. stanton called on--the negroes at port royal--"the nigger teachin fever"--deacon jenkins' daughter goes to port royal to teach the negroes._ washington, march 1st, 1862. _to the editurs of the cawcashin:_ i've had a terribul fit of the ager sence i writ yu last, and one time i thought it was about "nip and go tuck" wether the ager or natur wud whip, but i've got a strong constetushin and it cum out best, as it allers has so far in life. linkin, too, has been kinder under the wether. the loss of his little boy affected him terribully. ef it hadn't ben for the good noose and the union victories i don't know how we could have got along. but we are all gettin' better very fast now, and things begin to look brighter. i begin to get the hang of matters here now, and the way linkin and stantin and me will settle affairs before long will be a cawshin. stantin is a steem injine in breeches. the grate trubbul linkin now has is the abolishinests. they are tryin' to drive him to free all the niggers down south, and all the preechers, moril reformers and lecterers are constantly writin' letters here prayin' linkin to go rite on and turn the niggers all loose. sometimes we get as many as three bushels of letters in one mornin', from the strong-minded wimmin and week-minded men in the north, who don't know any more about niggers than they do about the man in the moon. linkin don't pretend to read 'em or even take a look at 'em. he told me one day that i might look 'em over, and see ef thar wus enny sence in enny of 'em, but i couldn't find ennything but texts of scriptur, and sams and hims and extracts from gree_lie's_ paper and cheevur's sarmons. wen i told linkin that he sed he didn't want to know enny more about 'em, for he had had about enuff of such pesky fanaticks. i kin jist tell them fellers that are writin' here such long letters, that it aint any use. but the grate subject that has occupied the attenshin of all of us for two weeks past, has ben the grand forrard movement. linkin improves mitey fast in military nollige, and is eenamost reddy to graduate from a kernel into a ginneral. wal, as i was sayin', we've been as bizzy as bees in gittin things reddy for a start. ef stantin and ginneral mcclellin, and the kernal and me didn't work hard at stratygims, then thar aint any such word in the dickshinnery. we had charts, and maps, and diaphragms, and kumpasses to measure the distances with, and all sorts of queer looking instruments that i can't remember the name of. but ginneral mcclellin knew all about 'em, i tell you. he could tell how fur it wus from one place to tother on the map, jest as easy as if he'd been over the ground and measured it with a ten foot pole. wal, wen he'd tell the distense from one place to tother, the kernel would put it down on a piece of paper so as to see jest how fur the grand army would have to travil afore they got to richmond. wal, bime by linkin had got a string of figers which kivered a hull page of writin paper, and then he undertook to ad 'em up. it warn't long, however, before he got things so mixed up that he couldn't tell hed from tale. finally he turned to me and ses he, "majer, can't you help me out of this scrape?" i told him i would ef he would only send for a slate, but that i couldn't figer on paper, that i larned to sifer on a slate, and that it allers cum terribel onhandy for me to figer in enny uther stile. so he called that feller in purty bad clothes, and told him to get a slate. wen it cum i went to work, and tho' my hand aint ben in the business much sense i sifered up the ackounts for ginneral jackson in squire biddle's bank, yet i soon stratened matters out, and linkin was dredful tickeled at it. he sed "apostle paul couldn't beet it himself." i forgot to tell you that the kernel calls ginneral mcclellin his apostle paul, so you needn't believe enny of the stories in the abolishin papers about the kernel and ginneral mcclellin being at logger-heds. even general jackson and mr. van buren were never better friends than linkin and mcclellin. wal, to make a long story short, we got every thing all settled, tho' it took the last night till eenamost mornin before we got thru. i had bent over the tabil so long, lookin at the diaphragms, that i had a stitch in my back, and linkin was bent eenamost dubil. after it was all over with and every thing had been decided on, ses linkin, ses he, "majer, don't you think that that is a capytal stratygim?" ses i, "yes, kernel, that is jest about as nigh rite as you kin get it; but," ses i, "there's one thing you ain't provided for." ses he, "what's that?" "wal," ses i, "for a fire in the rear!" "wal," ses linkin, "now the majer is gettin off a joke on us, for thar ain't no chance for a fire in the rear, except it comes from john bull, and ain't seward spiked his guns?" "now," ses i, "kernel, you ain't as old as i am; ef you was you would see jest what i mean." ses i, "don't you know that the aboleshin papers hate ginneral mcclellan as bad as they do jeff davis, and jest as soon as the grand army begins to move they'll expose all his plans, and the rebils will have em all in richmund in time to defeat em?" "wal, that is a fact," ses linkin, "i never thought of that; but they will as sure as preachen do jest what the majer ses; but what kin we do?" "wal," ses i, "i'll tell you what to do. jest let secketary stantin issu an order stopping all war news, and put every aboleshin editer that dares to disobey it into fort la fayette. giv em a dose of their own fisic, and see how they'll like it." when linkin heard that he jumped rite up, and ses he, "that is jest the checker. these aboleshinests have bin as much trubble to me as the secesh, and i don't know but a leetle more. i spect i'll have to hang a few on em yet before i can git a settled peece." then linkin asked secketary stantin what he thought of my idee, and he sed it was jest what was needed, and so linkin told him to draw up the order and put it thru strong. wal, so you see how the "youkase," as sum of our york editors call it, cum to be issued. i see sum of em growled and snarled over it like mad dogs, but it warn't no use. they know now how it feels to be put under the thum screws. so ef you can git the news, jest keep quiet a leetle while and you'll hear music. there ain't much else that's new here jest now. but tother day there was a feller cum on here from york to see linkin about what should be done for the niggers at port royal. he asked linkin what could be done? "wal," ses linkin, "i spose you've heerd the story about a feller who won an elephant at a raffle, and after he got him didn't know what to do with him? wal, so it is with the niggers we've got. there they are, but ef any live man kin tell what to do with em, i'de like to hear him. they eat more than the sojers, are lazy, and cost more than they cum to, jest like the old injin's dog." then this feller, who seemed to be a spirital chap, something like a dominy, put on a long face, and sed how these culered peepal were our bretheren in the lord, and that they had been brought up as hethens, hed never been taught reedin, or ritin, or rithmetic, but ground down to the arth with chains and slavery. he said he felt deeply for 'em, and that his conshence wouldn't let him rest day nor nite, but he was willin' tu devote his dazs tu preachin' the gospel tu 'em, &c., &c., but the cute feller wound up by axing linkin wether he wouldn't reckermend congress tu approprate sum money for the good of these poor creturs. wen he sed that i seen rite thru' him, and i give linkin the wink. so he put him off by sayin' he would think it over. wen he went away i told linkin jest what i thought of him. how that he was one of that kind of salm singin' yankees who was allers lookin' out for sum way tu git a livin' without workin.' it is astonishin' tho' how this nigger teachin' fever is goin'. it has broke out even here in washin'ton. deacon jenkins' darter, jerushy matilda, who cum on with her par, when he was sent for tu make linkin's sojer clothes, cum across that feller, an he talked her intu goin' down to port royal tu tech nigger schules. now, jerushy is a smart gal; her mother an my wife were second cuzzins. she kin rite poetry purty good for a gal of her age, for she ain't more than twenty-two, but she's got all the nigger nonsense in her hed, and i can't no more drive it out than i kin fly. somehow abolishin gits hold of the feelins of the wimmin folks, an it cums from their not knowin' what the nigger realy is; so i telled jerushy tu go, an ef she didn't get sick of tryin' to make niggers do an act, and larn, an sifer, an read, like white folks, then i would pay all her expenses, an turn nigger misheenery myself. but she sed i was an old fogy. it appears that solem feller told her that the niggers hed been whipped by their masters every mornin' before breakfast, with a cat-a'-nine-tailes, an that all they had tu eat was corn-stalks and cotton seeds! this tuck hold of jerushy's feelins amazinly, an she packed up her best clothes, an went off with him. she promised tu rite me how she got along, an what she thinks of things down there. ef ther's eny thing interestin' in the letter, i'll send it tu you tu print. your friend, majer jack downing. letter iv. _a delegation calls upon the president--the major indignant--mr. lincoln tells a story--curious composition of the republican party --difficulty of keeping it together--the president hopes to do it by "sloshin about"--deacon jenkins again--he is a temperance man, but takes a glass of old rye._ washington, march 18th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--we've all ben at sixes and sevens here since i writ you last. the rebils have knocked all our stratygims into a kocked hat. the fact was, we had the plan fixed to catch 'em jest as easy as you can kill a rabbit under a ded fall, but they wouldn't stay to be catched. linkin ses "they are like to paddy's flee, when you git where they are they ain't ther." it is ginerally believed here that some of the somnure click who hate ginneral mcclellan so much, ralely informed the inemy of our movements, and that that give 'em time to pack up their trumpery and git out of the trap. you see somnure, gree_lie_ & co. are afeerd that mcclellen will be the next president, and they are doin all they kin to brake him down. the other day a hull boodle of these abolishinists come in a boddy to the president to demand "justis to freemount." i was standin jest back of linkin up in the office room, when old moril, of my state, and luvjoy, and somnure, and hale, and julian, and ashley, and a hull lot more of the same stripe, cum in. they sed "they cum as a committy from a cawkis of the party to _demand_, as an act of justis, that freemount should be appointed to sum kommand." wen i heered 'em say that they demanded it, i felt my blud bileing away down to my bootes; in fac, it seemed as ef my bootes was full of bileing water. they sed they represented the republican party, and that the party demanded it, that the peopul demanded it, and that the noosepapers demanded it, and that ef he didn't do it, they would consider that he intended to forsake his party, and go over to the dimmycrats. all the wile i felt as ef i'd giv a thousan dollars for one hour of old hickery. how he would hev made the fur fly ef any body had undertuk to dictate to him in that way. but linkin didn't say nothing until after they got all thro, then he rez up kinder limpsey, and ses he, "gentlemen, i will considder this ere matter over, and see what i kin do. i reckon i kin kinder fix things out to suit you." then they went off. after they were gone linkin turned to me and ses he, "majer, what do you think of that?" "wal," ses i. "kernel, i tell you jest what i was thinkin while that insultin feller was talkin. i was wishin that ginneral jackson was alive and president for about twenty-four hours. why, ef that feller had talked to him in that way, he would have seized his hickery and kaned him out of the room." ses i, "kernel, you are too good-natured. these pesky pollyticians will driv you to perdishin, and the country, too, ef you ain't kerful." "wal," ses linkin, "what am i to do? there ain't no doubt that my party are all aunty-slavery, and a good menny of 'em out and out immediate abolishinists. they are a pullin me like all possessed. they've got hold of my feet, my toes, my cote tale, my trowsers, and pullin away as ef they ment to rip every rag of clothin off me, and i don't feel sure but they'll pull my legs off my boddy. i am holdin on as hard as i kin, but i feel as ef my hold was slippin. now, what on arth am i to do?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, there's nothin like getten a fresh hold wen you feel that you are slippin. so jest spit on your hands, as the sailyers do, and take a new hold." "now, majer," says linkin, "that reminds me of a story. some irishmen were once diggin a well, and by sum means the rope on the windless broke, and the bucket went down to the bottom. how to get it was the questshin. after plannin and thinkin for some time, paddy o'brien, who was the boss, he ses to teddy o'flanagan, ses he, 'i will take hold of the windless with my hands, and teddy, you take hold of my legs, and let patrick take hold of teddy's legs, and so on, until we can git down to the bucket and rache it up.' so they all went at it, but it warnt long before paddy found that the heft was too grate for him, an he felt that his hold on the windless was slippin. so he sung out tu teddy, who was below him, ses he, 'teddy, me boy, hould fast there till i spit on me hands,' an as he let go tu spit on his hands, down the hull party went tu the bottom of the well. now," ses linkin, ses he, "that would be jest the way with me. ef i let go to spit on me hands, down my hull party will go, and no one will ever see it agin." "wal," ses i, "kernel, ef you do go down in that way you will be _on top_!" "that's a fact," ses linkin. "i didn't think of that, but then, who would want tu be on the top of _such_ a party! you see, ef the party had any timber in it that you could use tu make another out of, there would be sum prospec ahed. but ye see thar aint. the stuff is cross-grained and knotty, and a good deal of it mity rotten. ef i could split it about half in two, so as tu weld one piece on tu the demmycratic party, i would do that. but you can't split it any more than you kin a pepperage log. i know sumthin about splittin, and ef any man could do it i could. no, majer, ef my party goes tu pieces at all, it will brake up intu a thousand splinters, jest like a chesnut tree wen it is struck by lightnin." "wal," ses i, "kernel, are you goin to give freemount a kommand?" wal, ses he, "i 'spose i'll hev tu do sumthin for him. i'll give him some place where he can't do any harm; ef i don't, these fellers will stop the wheels of government, an i can't run it any longer." wal, ses i, "kernal, ef they stop the _wheels_ of the government then i'de run it on the axletrees afore i'de giv in tu these pesky critters. you kinder giv in tu em on your emancipashin proclamashin, and ef yu keep on your gone, and the government is gone tu. you can't restore the union in that way enny more than you can build a stone wall out of clam shells. besides, you'll break off your kentuckee frends. "wal, yes, that's so," ses linkin, "but don't you see, majer, i've got to break off with _sumbody_? ef i do as the kentuckians want me tu, then i shall break with my party, and ef i don't, then i shall have to break off with them. now which shall it be? that's the question. now, thar ain't dimmycrats enuff in congress tu be of enny sarvice to me, and the few that are thar are most of em like the last run of shad, very poor and very mean. thar aint more than three or four that dare say their souls are their own, and i can't git along with such a party as that. i hope i'll git thru by sloshin first one way and then tother, without havin a rumpus with enny of em, but ef i don't, 'sufficient to the day is the evil of it,' as the scriptur ses." i aint had a letter from jerushy matilda, the darter of deacon jenkins, sense she went off to port royil with that solem feller. her par, deacon jenkins, who made linkin's sojer clothes, is still here. he is a very pious man, the deacon is, and he thinks jerusha is goin to do a heep of good to the niggers in turning mishinary. he thinks the niggers are all brought up as hethens, and never heerd the name of god. i telled him "i guessed ef they went around much whar the maine sojers were, that they would here his name pretty often, for they kin outsware any set of men i ever heerd talk." wen the deacon heerd how that mannassah was taken, he cum rite up to the white house and congratulated linkin on his success. linkin felt kinder tickled at first about it, but wen i telled him how it warent much of a victory to let a hull army slip thru our fingers, linkin seemed to think so, too. but deacon jenkins, he sed he could prove it frum scriptur, and so he got a big bibil and red the 61st sam, which is all about manassah and gil-ed and mo-abe and washpots, and so on. i telled him i could'nt see no simurlarity in it, but he stuck to it that it tiperfied the retreat of the rebils. linkin red it over two or three times, and sed it red for all the world like one of seward's non-committal letters. first he thought it did, and then he thought it didn't, and finally he giv it up in dispare. i telled 'em them they might try to draw conserlashin from the bibil, but i felt down about the matter, and didn't know as i could sleep. linkin sed he felt bad, too, but the deacon declared he felt first rate. i telled linkin i must have sum old rye afore i could go to bed, and he sed his nerves were very oneasy too. so the feller in bad clothes fetched in the black bottle, and we tuk a good swig. i telled the deacon that he needn't take enny, as he felt so good, but he would have sum. the deacon pretends to be a grate temperance man wen he is hum, but i find he likes a glass of wisky now and then, espeshily if he thinks the downingville folks won't heer of it. i hope i shall heer frum jerusha by the time i rite to you agin. your frend, majer jack downing. letter v. _a blue time--the major wins a hat of the president--the richmond expedition of gen. mcclellan--mr. lincoln's trick on the major--a letter from jerusha matilda jenkins--she gives her experience in negro teaching--priscella huggins and elder sniffles--cloe, the negro girl who "could not be good unless she was licked"--a negro meeting--dancing and singing--the unpleasant odor--negroes steal miss huggins' clothes --they purloin jerusha's petticoat--it is thought that their religion is not "very deep"--mr. lincoln hears the letter read--he declares that port royal is a "cussed hole"--deacon jenkins shocked--he proves it by the scriptures._ washington, april 1st, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin_: surs:--i've ben awfully down in the mouth sence i writ you last. things don't move nigh as fast as we all expected they would a spell ago; but i can't tell you the resin, for it wouldn't do to rite noose, for the rebils would get it. linkin has ben feelin amazin bad; one day, wen we both had the dumps, seward cum in, and ses he, "cheer up; its all goin to be over in thirty days." linkin ses seward reminds him of fellers he's seen out west who had the ager and fever. one day they think they are well, and the next they are shakin agin like all possessed. wal, linkin ralely did think that mcclellan would be in richmond by the 1st of april, even mcclellan thought so. i telled linkin he wouldn't, and bet him a bran new hat on it. so to-day i won it, but will you believe it, linkin got a bet on me. he's a dredful cute critter in his way. ses he to me, kinder funnin me i thought, ses he, "majer, will you make a bet with me?" ses i, "yes, kernel, i've jest won a bet of you, and taint more than fair to let you have a chanst now." "wal," ses he, "i'll bet you a hat that i kin sneeze jest wen i've a mind to." ses i, "kernel, i don't believe it, and so i'll bet you. now," ses i, "let's see you sneeze." "wal," ses he, "i aint a _mind_ to now. so," ses he, "hand over that new hat." ses he, "majer, you aint quite as smart as you thought you was." ses i, "kernel, now jest hold on about the forty-leventh part of a minit. you bet me a _new_ hat, but i only bet you a _hat_, so," ses i, "you kin take the _old one_!" "wal," ses linkin, "majer, you are jest the keenest yankee i ever heerd tell on. you allers contrive to git ahed of me after all." the other day i got a letter from jerushy matilda, deacon jenkins' darter, and linkin was eenamost crazy to see how chase's missionaries cum on. so i sot down, deacon jenkins was thar too, and read it all to linkin, and i send it to you to print, jest as i promised. so here it is in full. jerushy is a proper smart gal, and i guess thar aint menny of her age who can beat her: beaufort, s.c., march 25, 1862. deer uncle--i take my pen in hand to fulfil my promise to you. now, i'm goin to rite you the hull truth about things in this part of the lord's vinyard. i shall tell you some grate news, so you must not tell par of it, for ef you do he'll rite hum about it, and then it will soon be all over downingville. i jest as live mar would know it as not, but then she'll tell aunt betsy wiggles, and aunt betsy will go rite over to old deliverance grimes, and tell her, and then deliverance she'll put on her bonnet and start all over town, and ef jim pendergrass gets hold of it he'll hector me to death, for he's a rale pro-slavery dimmycrat, and thinks that our colored brethren and sisters are fit only for slaves. i can't deny that i've been much disencurriged sence i've been here. you see we've got a very queer set of gals and men here with us. some of 'em are quite old gals, who haint been very lucky in life, and naturally they feel kinder sour towards men in gineral. some of 'em have been schule marms for a good many years, and some have been milliner gals. two of 'em had a rale spat on the boat while we were comin here. the way it happened was this: there is a spruce looking old maid by the name of priscilla huggins, from bosting, who is very gifted in prayer, and she tuk a great notion to elder sniffles, a young preacher, who is one of the piesest men i ever see. she is quite an old gal, and there was another gal, a nice looking and quite young gal, from york. her name was melissy buggs. one day melissy giv miss huggins a terribel slap by tellin her that she guessed she made believe being so pious jest to ketch elder sniffles. when miss huggins heerd this, she sed something unrespectful of milliner gals. "she didn't believe," she sed, "that eny of 'em had religion, and what's more than that, they want eny more respectable than they oughter be." when she sed that, melissy she jumped rite at her with both her hands, and ketched hold of her har, and bless me, if she didn't pull nigh about all the har off her hed, for it turned out it was false har and not genoine. when miss huggins see her har on the floor, she turned as red as a beet, and melissy said she guessed her hart was jest as false as her har. this made her redder yet, and jest at this point elder sniffles came along. he cum up, and ses he, "my dear sis-ters, this is not the way to walk in the fear of the lord, and with gordly conversashen edefin one another. i fear that the lo-rd will not bless your labors with our dear col-ored brethren, who have so long been groanin and cryin to the saints for deliverance from chains and slavery." this sort of rebuked them, but there's been a constant jingle in our company ever since. when we arrived here, we were all very much disappented not to find a stage reddy to take us to the hotel, but las me! they aint got any kind of decent livin here. instead of a hotel, they telled us we must cook our own vitals, and what do you think they giv us? the government promised to board us an lodge us for teachin the poor dear colored people, and takin keer of their souls, an we thought they would do it in decent stile. instead of that, all we could get was sum salt pork and dry bread, jest the same as they giv to the common sojers. i tell you, didn't all of us feel hoppin, when the feller in brass buttons told us that was all he had for us. to think of turnin ladies an gentlemen with such stuff was shockin. i tell you, didn't elder sniffles giv him a piece of his mind, an brothers sleek and goodenough, and elder wattles, and young deacon dolittle all jined in, but they couldn't move the feller a mite. so we took a house, the best one we could find empty, an commenced doing for ourselves. but i must tell you something about our colored brethren an sisters. the sojers here treat 'em very badly, kick and cuff 'em, an swear at 'em such horribel oaths that it makes the blood run cold. but we have taken 'em by the hand and leadin 'em by love. that old gal from bosting, priscella huggins, actually hugged and kissed one old colored lady, until all the others laughed and jumped as if they thought it was very funny. for my part, i took a great notion to a young black gal, wen i first come here. she sed her name was cloe, but she acted so much like topsey, in that dear good novel of that dear good woman, miss stowe, that i took topsey for me to teach. first off, i got along very with her. i axed her a good many questions, among others, where she was born. she sed she warn't born at all, but "was _raised_ over on the edisto." but jest as soon as i got done talkin to her, she seemed to forget all about it, an would go to dancin an cuttin up jim crow capers. in a day or two she got rale sassy, an i couldn't do nothin with her. one day i had to actually drive her out of my room, but it warn't but a little while before she put her wooly head in again. then i told her again "how that i had come down there on purpose to elevate her, an to educate her, that she was jest as free as i was, and that she would never have to mind her old mistress agin." wen i sed that, she bust out a cryin jest like a baby. ses i, "what is the matter, dear topsey?" "oh," ses she, "i can't nebber hear ole missus talked of, but i bust rite out cryin. oh! what a good missus she was! boo! boo! boo!" an she kept on cryin as if her heart would break. i thought it was dredful queer that she should be cryin to go back to bondage. but pretty soon it was all over, an she began to dance around the room jest as if she never thought of cryin. pretty soon she upset a chair, on which i had laid some things, an i was awfully provoked. i took hold of her, and felt jest like shakin her to pieces, wen i axed her, ses i, "topsey, why don't you be good?" "las me! missus," she replied, "_i can't be good unless i'm lickt_." i tell you i was discurriged. that night i went to a colored meeting. the colored people are very religious, though their religion don't seem to be so deep as it ought to be. they danced and sung somethin like the shaking quakers, and i can't say that it was very edefyin. there was nothing spiritual about it, and the smell in the room was very unpleasant. somehow colored people have a very singular smell, that i never knew of before i come down here, and the brothers and sisters don't like it at all. i had actually to hold my nose all through meeting in my pocket handkerchief, and yet it was almost more than i could stand. when meeting was over i was mighty glad to get out, i tell you. i don't know what we will do here all summer, but i expect we shall soon get used to it. the very next day after the meeting, what do you think happened? why, we all went out to see a plantation, and while we were gone, the colored brethren that we made so much of, and who had pretended to be so pious, stole all the provisions that the government gave us! they were all gone, and what is more, i lost my best dress and a bran new petticoat that aunt betsey wiggles gave me just before i started for washington. but you would have laughed to see old miss huggins go on about what she lost. they took all but one pair of stockings, and the best night gown she had. when melisy buggs heered of it she jumped rite up, and slapped her hands and cried good. they also took off old miss huggins' stuff for cleaning her false teeth, and you never heerd a woman go on so in all your life. i guess if elder sniffles had heerd her rave and tare as i did, he would think her piety warn't very deep. i didn't keer so much for the loss of my petticoat, but if aunt betsey finds it out i'll never heer the last of it, and then if jim pendergrass gets hold of it, what shall i do? he is the most awful hectorer that ever lived, and he sets in church at downingville, rite in front of par's pew. he'll grin at me the hull time. but i cum off good, i tell you. the other gals had to divide up with miss huggins, or i don't know what she would have done. as it is, ef much more is stolen from us we will all have to come home and get new wardrobes. all the brothers and sisters have been very much puzzled about this strange affair. the colored people all seem to be so very pious that was not believed for a long time that they could have stolen the things, but it seems they did, for old miss huggins was determined to find out, and she went off to some of the cabins, and there she found them tryin to comb their woolly heads with one of her fine teeth combs! i tell you what it is, uncle jack, i am afraid i've come on a fool's errand. some how there aint the right look to things here, and ef we don't succeed better in the future than we have so far, in educating these colored people, i fear our labor will be lost. they will talk well enough before your face, but it don't last. but don't you let on to the downingville folks that i'm at all disencouraged. if i come home it will be on the excuse that the climate don't agree with me. elder sniffles says no one must leave for any other reason, for that would bring down odium on the great cause. elder sniffles is going to preach hereafter regularly to the colored brethren, and he hopes he will soon teach them how wicked it is to steal. as soon as he teaches them that, then he is going on to other subjects, but that must be taught them at once, for one or two more hauls on us would send us all home with "nothing to wear." your affectionate neece, jerusha matilda jenkins. wen i got thrue, linkin jumped rite up out of his cheer and stomped his foot so as to make the house shake. ses he, "what a cussed hole that port royal must be!" decon jenkins ses he, "don't speak wickedly with your lips, mr. president." "wal," ses linkin, "it _is_ a _cussed_ hole, and i ken prove it by the scriptur." "i guess not," ses the decon. "wal," ses linkin, "didn't the lord cuss the earth for man's sins?" "yes," ses the decon. "wal, i'de like to know," ses linkin, "whether you think port royal _was an excepshin_?" i never seed a feller look so chop-fallen as the decon did, and i snorted rite out a laughin, for the decon thinks he's so smart on scriptur. linkin, however, declares that he ain't got nothin to do with this nigger schule teachin, but that it is all chase's plans. but its turnin out jest as i expected; jerusha now begins to see that what i telled her was true. the gal will be comin back afore long, you may be sure, but she'll be cured of niggerism; that will be one good thing. i only wish i could send all the old maids and silly gals in new england down there. they would soon get the nigger notions out of their heads. your frend, majer jack downing. letter vi. _the question of the "contrybands"--lincoln and the major discuss it--the major tells a story--shows mr. lincoln that the government is out of order--says it's a "dimmycratic machine" and that seward and chase don't know how to run it--they are like old jim dumbutter and the threshing machine--the major tells another story--"the kernel" gets a joke on seward--tells a story about the "giascutis."_ washington, april 15th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs: i've ben kinder sick sence i writ you last. the truth is, this clymate in the spring is ralely very weeknin to the constitushin. linkin, too, has been terribully anxus about war noose, and the nigh approach of hot weather. but the great subjeck which the kernel and i have been considerin is the "contrybands." what is to be done with 'em? that's the questshin, and linkin ses he'd like to see the feller that can tell him. one night linkin got a big map, an he sot down, and "now," ses he, "majer, let's take a look at all creashin, an see ef ther aint sum place whar we kin send these pesky kinky heds, and git red of 'em." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i'm agreed." so we went at it. first linkin put his finger on haty. "now," ses he, "ther's an iland that jest suits the nigger constitushin. suppose they go thar?" "but," ses i, "kernel, they won't go, an ef they did, they wouldn't do nothin." "wal," ses he, "no matter, ef they won't trouble us here enny longer." "but," ses i, "ther's one more resin. the iland aint large enuff to hold all the niggers--four millions or thereabouts." "wal," ses he, "ther's centril ameriky--what do you think of that spot?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, that's a fine country, naterally. the creator fixed it up on a grand skale, but you can't make a treaty with it, enny more than you can count the spots on a little pig, when he keeps runin about the hull time. the truth is, you can't tell who'll be president of it from one mornin to the next, and the niggers you send there might all git their throats cut jest as soon as they landed." "wal," ses linkin, "that's a _slight_ objecshin. but let's turn over to afriky. there's libery, how would that do, major?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, that country is about the biggest humbug of the hull lot. fust off, sum raly good peopul thought it was goin to amount to sumthin, but after forty years of spendin money on it, ther aint enny more chanst of civilizin afriky in that way than ther is of makin a rifled cannon out of a basswood log. a few dominys, who can't git enny boddy willin to hear 'em preach, hev got hold of it, an are makin a good thing out of it. as for sending our niggers ther, why it would take all the shippin of the world, and more money than chase could print by steam in a year." "wal," ses linkin, "where on arth kin we send 'em?" "now," ses i, "kernel, i've got an idee of my own about that matter. i think they are best off where they are and jest as they are, but ef you must git red of 'em, i would send 'em all to massa-chews-its! peepul who are so anxus to have other folks overrun with free niggers ought to be willin to share sum of the blessins themselves. so let all that are here in washington be sent rite off to boston." "yes, that might do," ses linkin, "but then, ef they are entitled to their freedom, they orter be allowed to go where they are a mind to." "but," ses i, "sum states won't have 'em at all, an they can't go there. so what's to be done?" "wal," ses linkin, "i tell you what it is, majer, this is an almighty tuff subjeck. i know somethin about splittin rails, and what hard work is ginerally, but this nigger questshin has puzzled me more than enny thing i ever got hold of before." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i kin explain the resin why." ses he, "let's hear you, majer." "wal," ses i, "kernel, where do you carry your pocket-book?" ses he, "what on arth has that to do with the subjeck?" ses i, "hold on, you'll see." "wal," ses he, "i always carry it rite there, in my left hand trowsers pocket." ses i, "didn't you ever have a hole in that pocket for a day or two, and had to put your pocket-book in sum other?" ses he, "majer, i have." ses i, "what did you do with it then?" "wal," ses he, "i put it in my right hand pocket, but it kinder chafed my leg there, cause it warn't used to it, and it also felt mity onhandy. so i put it in my side coat pocket, but every time i stooped over it would drop out. then i put it in my coat tail pocket, but i was kept all the time on the _qui vivers_, afeerd sum pickpocket would steal it. at last, in order to make it safe, and sure, i put it in the top of my hat, under sum papers, but the hat was too top-heavy, and over it went, spilling everything. i tell you i was glad when my pocket was fixed, and i got it back in the old spot." "now," ses i, "kernel, that's jest the case with the niggers. the minnit you get 'em out of ther place, you don't know what on arth to do with 'em. now, we've been here all the evenin sarchin over the map to see ef we can't find sum place to put 'em. but it is all no manner of use. you've got to do with 'em jest as you did with your pocket-book. put 'em whar they belong, an then you won't have any more trubbil." linkin didn't see eggzatly how i was gwin to apply the story, an wen he did, he looked kinder struck up. wen i saw that i hed made a hit on him, i follered it up. ses i, "kernel, this government ain't out of order, as seward an chase kontend. they are only tryin to run it _the rong way_--that's what makes all the trubbil. i once hed a thrashin machine, an i sold it to old jim dumbutter, an after he got it he sed it warn't good for nothin--that it wouldn't run, &c. so i went over to see it, an i vow ef he didn't have the machine all rong eend foremist. i went to work at it, an, after a leetle wile, it went off like grease, jest as slick as a whistle. you see, old dumbutter didn't onderstand the machine, an, therefore, he couldn't make it go. now," ses i, "kernel, our constitushin is a dimmycratic machine, an its got to be run as a dimmycratic machine, or it _won't run at all_! now, you see, seward is tryin to run it on his 'higher law' principle, but it warn't made for that, an the consekence is, the thing is pretty nigh smashed up." "wal," ses linkin, "things do look kinder dark. i don't know whar we will come out, but i guess i'll issoo a proclamashin for the ministers to pray for us. perhaps they will do sum good." ses i, "kernel, that reminds me of old elder doolittle, who cum along the road one day rite by whar old sol hopkins, a very wicked old sinner, was hoein corn. the season was late, as the corn was mity slim. ses the elder: 'mr. hopkins, your corn is not very forrard this year.' 'no, its monstrus poor,' ses hopkins, 'an i guess i shan't have half a crop.' 'wal,' ses the elder, 'mister hopkins, you ought to pray to the lord for good crops; perhaps he will hear you.' 'wal, perhaps he will, an perhaps he won't;' ses old sol, 'but i'll be darned ef i don't beleave that this corn needs _manure_ a tarnel sight more than it does prayin for.' now," ses i, "linkin, i think this country is somethin like old hopkinses corn. _it_ needs _statesmanship a good deal more than prayin for._" linkin didn't seem to like that observashin of mine much, for he turned the subjick, an he ain't axed me what it was best to do with the niggers sence. the other day the kernel got off a good joke on seward. you know what a solem looking chap he is naterally. wal, since he has got to be chief clark of the president, he seems to look solemer than ever. he cum into linkin's room, an the kernel ses, "have you heerd the news, boss?" "no," ses seward, "what is it?" "wal," ses linkin, "the giascutis is loose." "what's that?" ses seward. "why," ses linkin, "ain't you never heerd the story of the giascutis?" seward sed he never had. "wal," ses the kernel, "i must tell you. several years ago, a couple of yankees were travellin out west, an they got out of money. so they koncluded to 'raise the wind' as follers:--they were to go into a village; an announce a show, pretendin that they had a remarkabul animal, which they had jest captured on the rocky mountings. a bran new beast such as was never seen before. the name was the 'giascutis.' it was to be shown in a room, and one of the fellers was to play 'giascutis.' he was put behind a screen an had some chains to shake, an he also contrived to growl or howl as no critter ever did before. wal, the peeple of the village all cum to see the giascutis, an, after the room was filled, his companion began to explain to the audience what a terribul beast he had, how he killed ten men, two boys and five hosses in ketchin him, an now how had got him, at 'enormous expense,' to show him. jest as everybody was gapin an starin, thar was, all at once, a most terrific growlin, and howlin, an rattlin of chains; an, in the excitement, the showman, almost breathless, yelled out, at the top of his voice, 'the giascutis is loose. run! run! run!' an away went the people down stairs, heels over head, losin all they had paid, an seein nothin. now," ses linkin, "'the merrymac is out,' an when i read about the vessels, an tug-boats, an steamers, all scamperin off as soon as she was seen, i thought she was the 'giascutis,' sure, only i'm afraid she is a real giascutis, an no mistake." since then, linkin calls the merrymac the giascutis all the time. your friend, majer jack downing. letter vii. _war "noose"--the president's anxiety--mr. lincoln determines to apply "the principle"--the story of zenas homespun--the major's views on negroes--poetry--the emancipation ball--the major going to "cifer" on the finances._ washington, april 29th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--we are all on the _qui vivers_ here for war noose. linkin gets up sometimes in the middul of the nite to hear a dispach received by sekratary stantin, and as much of it as is thought good for the health of the peepil is sent to the papers. the other nite linkin called me. this was very unushul for him, for he ginrally tells me in the mornin, at the breckfast tabel, and axes my opinion, but he sent for me that nite and sed that i must git up and read the noose. so i went down and he showed me the dispach that gennerral mitchell got of bowregards. "now," ses the kernel, "you see, majer, we've got the raskils in a korner. they've got to fite or run, and if they fite they're licked, and if they run they're licked. we shall now soon have memfus, and that jest pens up jeff davis in virginny. you see, majer, bowregard ses he ain't got but 35,000 troops." ses i, "kernel, let me take a look at that dispach." i put on my specs and read it over twice or three times very kerfully, and then ses i, "kernel, i don't think you orter put grate faith in that. as elder doolittle used to say, 'it may be a bee, and then agin it may be a wasp.' that bowregard is a grate feller at stratagy, and it might be another dodge of his. and then agin, kernel, that was afore you signed the bill abolishin slavery in the district of columby. as sure as your born that will be worth a hundred thousan sojers to jeff davis." "wal," ses linkin, "let it, who cares? the truth is, majer, we republicans have been talkin about the great principle of the equality of all men, includin injins, niggers, chinees and so on, and now they want me to apply the principle, and i'm goin to do it. i think there is sum humbug in it sumwhere, but i don't exactly see where, and as they will give me no peace, and will never be satisfied ennyhow until it is dun, i'm goin to put it thru." "wal," ses i, "kernel, go ahed, but look out for squalls. perhaps," ses i, "you never heerd the story about zenas humspum 'applyin the principle. i hope you won't hev as bad luck as he did." "no," ses linkin, "i never heerd that story. what was it?" "wal," ses i, "zenas was a good-natered feller, who lived in downingville, and a wonderful inquirin sort of a chap, allers and forever prying into things. if he bought a clock he'd take it all apart with his jack-nife, jest to see how it went together. so about the time that the telegraph was started and an offis was set up in our town, zenas was eenamost puzzled to deth to get the hang of the critter, as he called it. one day he went to the offis and axed the feller to show him all about it. the chap was very perlite, and explained to him the grate principle on which it worked, but zenas didn't exactly see through it, and kept axing questions and botherin the feller till he got clean out of pashins. finally, ses he to zenas, 'perhaps you would like to see me apply the principle.' zenas said he would, of course. 'wal,' ses he, 'then you jest take hold of them brass nobs and stick to 'em tight.' so zenas grabbed hold of 'em like all possessed, but he hadn't more than fairly got hold before he lay sprawlin on the floor. the 'principle' had knocked him clean over. now, zenas was a terribul feller to smoke, and allers carried his pockets full of lusifer matches to lite his pipe with. it so happened that he had a hull box-full in his coat-tail pocket as he keeled over on the floor, and as he fell they scratched agin one another so strong that they all got afire. it warn't but a little while afore zenas' coat-tail was all in a blaze, and before it could be put out it had burnt an awful big hole in the seat of his trowsers, and schorched him thereabouts amazinly. zenas yelled and hollered awful, and sed he didn't want to know enthing more about 'applyin the principle.' now," ses i, "kernel, i hope you won't hev as bad luck as zenas did, but depend on't, this applyin principles you don't exactly understand is dangerous business. if you don't get burnt somewhere it will be a wonder." "wal," ses linkin, "majer, you are a cute chap in tellin a story, but now, tell me, do you think the nigger an the white man didn't cum from the same parrient?" "now," ses i, "kernel, that's axin a deep question. you see its onpossibul to tell what the creatur may have done. he might have made only one kind of man at fust, an then altered their constitushins, an complexions, an brains afterwards. you see everything is possibul to the creatur. or the nigger may have cum from ham, who was cussed for his sins, but then i don't see that it is enything agin the scriptoors to believe that all the kinds of men were made at the beginnin jest as they are now. but it don't make eny difference how they cum so, so long as they _are_ different. you can't eny more make a white man out of a nigger now than you can breed a lion out of a polecat. you see, it's clar agin natur to expect to make the nigger enything but a nigger. you can't get a peach out of a crab-apple, nor a pumpkin out of a watermelon, nor eagles out of ducks' eggs. you can't raise chickens from egg-plants, or produce goslins from gooseberries. you see, kernel, everything in natur must go accordin to natur. if the nigger had been intended to be equil to the white man, hed been made jest like a white man, and the very fact that he ain't made so, is proof positive that he warn't intended to be put in a white man's place. trying to make a nigger act like a white man is jest like old sol hopkins, one year harnessing his off ox an his hoss together to plow corn. the ox was lazy as he could be, an the hoss was a young, high-strung animil, an such a pullin an haulin team you never did see. it almost killed both. you see, it was workin agin natur. it was tryin to make a hoss an ox, and an ox a hoss, neither of which things can be did. you see, kernel, _everything in natur must go according to natur_." "wal," ses linkin, "there is a good deal in what you say, but then the peepil don't believe it. they think the nigger is only accidentally black, and if he lacks in mind and capacity, it is all owin to slavery, an they won't believe eny other way until they see for themselves. i tell you, majer, the principle has got to be applied, no matter how meny coat-tails or how meny trowsers are burnt." "but," ses i, "kernel, can't they see how the thing has worked in places whar nigger equality has been tried?" "that don't settle the question, majer. peepil are jest like hogs in that respect. did you ever see a lot of hot swill put in a trough, an every single hog in the pen would go an stick in his snoot an get it burned? not one would larn from the others. after we've tried nigger equality, we'll know what it is, an how we like it. we must apply the principle, an in some way, you may depend upon it majer, all the niggers down south will be sot free." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i guess that there are other folks who think jest as you do, for somebody has sent me some varses in relashin to the nex great emancipashin which is to cum off, cut from some noospaper. i will read 'em to you: the emancipation ball, given to four millions of negroes, by the great republican p-a-i-r-t-y. * * * anodder great ball is soon to be, de like of which you nebber did see, de bids is out i's seen a few, de guests i know, and so do you. lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo? tum! tum! tum! de fust on de list is mistah snow, and de nex is jeemes and dinah crow; chalk and ivory! heels and shins! white man wait till the dance begins! lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo? tum! tum! tum! pompey smash, and his lady fair! you may bet your life dey will bofe be dare! and mistah ducklegs--bully for he! such a gizzard foot you nebber did see. lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo? tum! tum! tum! and gumbo squash wid his bressed grin, his curling har, and his cho-shin- de king ob hearts will come to de bal, let the gals look out for dare feckshuns all! lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo? tum! tum! tum! ole uncle ned, frow down dat hoe! and dinah, drop dat kitchen dough! all dixie's free, wid noffin to do but to dance all night, and all day too. lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo? tum! tum! tum! de white trash dey have nuffin to say, but to work! work! and de taxes pay; while the bressed darkies dance dere fill, let de white trash foot de fiddler's bill! lubly rosa! sambo come! don't you hear de banjo! tum! tum! tum! white men! white men! sure as you're born, the crows are going to take your corn! they surround your fields on every tree, and they blacken the sky as far as we see. lubly rosa! sambo stay, in the land of dixie, far away." linkin laughed at it when i got thru, an sed it done very well for some sore-hed dimmycrat, but that whittiur could write one on 'tother side that this would not be a primin to. i telled him whittiur might make better poetry, but i doubted whether ther would as much truth in it as this had. linkin ses he wants me to study up the finances for him. he ses the debt is gettin fearful, an as i am good at cyferin, he ses i must try to help him out on that subject. he wants to put it in his nex message. it is some time since i did such work, but if i feel like it, i will go into it, an will write you how i get along. your frend, majer jack downing. letter viii. _matters get confused--the "kernel and the major" compelled to go to fortress monroe to straighten things out--mr. lincoln takes his revolver--the major sticks to his hickory--arrival at fort monroe--they go on a "tippergraphical rekonnisanze"--a night alarm--secretary stanton tries to get on the president's pantaloons._ washington, may 13th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--wal, if i ain't eenamost tired out, i wouldn't say so. wen i writ you last, i told you that linkin wanted me to look into the financies and cifer where we was a comin to, but i ain't had time to do it yet. things have ben in a kind of a dubbel and twisted snarl here lately. sekretary stantin and gins. mcclellin and mcdowell have been almost by the ears. one of em halls linkin one way and another t'other way, until he got eenamost crazy. mcclellin wanted more sojers. stantin sed he didn't have em for him. mcdowell sed he wanted more, and banks wanted more. so you see here was a pretty kittle of fish. finally, mr. linkin, ses he, "majer, wat on erth shall i do?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i tell you my idee. you better go down to fort monrow, an see for yourself. i allers found, when i had a lot of hands in the field a mowin, there was nothin like havin the boss on hand. if he ain't there, they all want to be boss." "wal," ses linkin, "i think that is a good plan, majer; and if you will go along with me, i will go down there, and if i don't straiten things out there, my name ain't abe linkin. but, major, how shall we go?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, do jist as ginneral jackson used to; step of kinder unbeknown to eny one, but you kin invite all your a mind to go along." "wal," ses he, "i guess i'll take chase and stantin along. i want stantin so as to ask questions; an if i leave chase here, he an seward will git a quarrelin sure as you live. i never see two men so jealous of each other. they both want to be president so bad, that i expect nothin else but some day they'll steal my old boots." the next day linkin got all ready, put on his best close, and slicked up so he looked purty nice. then he got his six-barreled revolver, and put it in his side coat pocket. ses i, "kernel, what on arth do want of revolvers?" "wal," ses he, "majer, aint we goin down to the land of the secesh, and who knows but we may git in an ambushcade?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, that's a fact; but i shan't carry anything but my old hickory. ginneral jackson cum pretty nigh killin a man once with his hickory, and i believe, kernel, old as i am, i'de give any secesher a pretty good tussel with that old shag bark." "wal," ses linkin, "i wan't brought up that way. i'de rather have an ax than any other weepin, for i believe i could split the southern confederacy into rails in a week, and fence it in, if it were only fashionable to warfare in that manner; but you see, majer, we've got to lick the rebils according to science, or john bull and looe napoleon will kick up a rumpus. so i'll have to stick to revolvers." "wal," ses i, "kernel, that's right; but give me the hickory. if i don't defend myself with that, then my name ain't majer jack downing. i ain't goin to make a masked battery of myself." so we all got reddy and went off in the miamy, so quiet like, that washington peeple didn't scasely know it. ginneral wool was terribully tickled to see us, and he shook me by the hand jest as hard as he could. i hadn't seen the old ginneral for a great manny years, but he don't seem a mite older than he did nigh on twenty years ago. the next day after we got there, we had a council of war, and it was decided to attack norfolk. but how to do it was the question. "wal," ses linkin, "i tell you what, i know somethin about boatin, and the majer here he is quick at eenamost anything. so we'll go on a tippergraphical rekonnisanze to-morrow." ses i, "kernel, them big words may be all right, but i'll be darned if i believe they're english." ses i, "ain't it jist as easy to say that we're goin on a military tower of obsevashin?" the next mornin we started off in the miamy, and went towards norfolk. every place we cum to, the naval offesers sed wouldn't answer to land troops on. it couldn't be done. finerally, i showed linkin a spot close in shore, and ses he, "them old canal-botes up there at the fort, that you sed looked as if they were the runin gear of noah's ark, are fit for nothin else but to be towed over here for the troops to land on." ses i, "kernel, that's so, and if the sea captains can't do it, i kin, for i sailed a sloop once down in maine, and i know sumthin about the bizness." so wen linkin pinted out the spot, they tried to find fault agin, and talked about the tide and the sinkin of the boats, etc. just then i stepped up, and ses i, "mr. president, i'm an old man, but if you want sojers landed there, i'll land 'em safe and sound as a pipe stem; if i don't, then my name ain't majer jack downing." wen the brass button, pompous chaps heered me say that i was majer jack downing, you never seen a wisker set of fellers. they all at once began to make apologys, and sed that they would try it, that they guessed it could be done, and so on. i see thru the fellers at once. they didn't want linkin to have _eny_ of the credit of it; but when they see that i was goin to do it, and take _all_ the credit, then they were willin to go to work. i ralely believe there ain't a officer in the navy or army but what expects to get glory enuff in this war to make him a president. wal, after we fixed on this place, we all went back to the fort, and ginneral wool give us all first rate rooms in the offiser's quarters. the next mornin, bright and arly, the sojers were off, and ginneral wool leadin 'em. as it turned out, everything went off jest as slick as could be. the rebils had cut sticks and run, and there was no one to take. the ginneral went into town, run up the stars and stripes, and it was all over with. norfolk was ours. [illustration: "i'm darned if the critter warnt bizzy tryin' to git on linkin's trowsers."--page 80.] ginneral wool was so tickled with his success that the old man cum post haste back agin, late at nite, to tell linkin and stantin of it. we had all got to bed. we slept in rooms that jined each other, linkin occupyin the middle room, an myself an stantin one on each side, with the doors openin into linkin's room. wen we went to bed, ses the kernel to me, kinder jokin, ses he, "majer, if the secesh attack us to-nite, you must have your hickory reddy." ses i, "kernel, look out for your revolver, an put it under your piller, so you kin grab it handy." wal, what should happen along towards mornin but a most terribul noise, some one beatin, an stampin, an yellin, like all possessed. first, i thought of the secesh, and i grabbed my hickory at once, an made for the kernel's room in my nite-shirt to see how he was feelin. i came pretty nigh bustin my sides a laughin, for there linkin stood up on a cheer, lookin for all the world like a treed porcupine; his hair stood on eends, and he was a shaking his pistol around as if he meant to shoot. ses i, "hold on, kernel; don't fire. let's see what this rumpus is all about before you shoot." stantin, was in linkin's room, lookin like a spook in his white nite-gown; an i'm darned if the critter warn't bizzy trying to git on linkin's trowsers! he got 'em on after a fashen, but his legs didn't more than go half thru 'em, an there he stood kinder tangled up like, lookin awful sorry about somethin, as if he'ed wanted to issue a bulletin an couldn't? all the while the noise kept growin louder, an finally ses i, "who on arth is that makin such a tarnal racket?" "it's me. it's me," ses a voice. ses i, "who is me? are you union or secesh?" "i'm ginneral wool," ses he, "an i want to tell you the noose." now, we didn't no more expect to see ginneral wool than we did jeff davis; but sure enuff, it was him, and he cum thunderin in an brought his old cane down on the floor with a ring. ses he, "norfolk is ours, by ----." i won't put in the swearing part. you never did see such a change. linkin jumped down out of the cheer, and ketched the old ginneral by the hand, and cum pretty nigh shakin it off, while stantin took him rite in his arms. wen the story had all been heerd, and linkin went to look for his trowsers, there was stantin with his legs in 'em, holden them up by his hands. ses i, "kernel, mr. stantin will get to be president if you ain't kerful, for i see he's got on the president's trowsers." wen i sed that, i thought stantin would wilt. he looked awfully struck up, but sed he'd no idee them was linkin's trowsers, and he backed out of them quick. the next day there was great rejoicing in the hull army, and we all cum back to washington in the miamy. i've jist got back, and have only had time to write you this letter. wen yew hear from me agin i hope i shan't be so tired, and try to give you a more interesting letter. your friend, majer jack downing. letter ix. _the major figures on the "nashinal debt"--horse contracts and "abolishin preechers"--banks defeated--the major suggests a new fashioned shield expressly for retreats--a wheelbarrow for every soldier!--excitement in washington--the president not scared "a hooter"_ washington, may 26th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--sence i writ you last, i've been figering on the nashinul debt, and i tell you what it is, it is jest about the most intricit subjec i ever got hold of. i've used up two duzzen slates and about a cart load of slate pencils. linkin has sent on to york for a fresh supply, and wen they cum i'm goin' at it agin. squire biddle's bank warn't a primin to this war debt. you see the contracters and the pollyticians, and the members of congress and the guvernors of the states, and the editers and even the abolishin preechers are mixed up in it cleen to their ize. it's very queer how so many of these preechers have had hoss contracts. it seems as if abolishin and hoss jockeying goes together. one pius chap wrote on the back of his contract, "an horse is a vain thing for safety. put your trust in the lord." i should think that such hosses as he furnished would be a vain thing for safety, for nigh about the hull of 'em was spavined, or ring-boned, or foundered, or had the blind staggers. i tell you it's edefyin to look over these contracts. linkin has giv me a cart blank to pry into the hull subjec, but chase squirms terribully wen i questshin him close. but i ain't got half done. the other day, as i was porerin over my last slate, which was pretty nigh sifered full, linkin sent for me in a grate hurry. i started rite off, wunderin what on arth was up. wen i went in, the kernel had his cote off and his sleeves rolled up, an ses he, "majer, do you know where i kin get a first-rate axe?" ses i, "kernel, i know where there is the best axe that ever chopped wood, but," ses i, "it's way up in downingville." ses he, "that won't do, majer; i must have an axe rite off, or i shall bust; i can't live unless i work off this steem." i see the kernel had on a high-pressure excitement, and ses i, "hold on a minnit, kernel, and tell me what on arth's the matter?" "matter!" ses he, "jest read that, majer, and tell me whether you don't think that that infernal cuss, stantin, ought to be kicked out of the cabinet?" i took up the paper and there was a despatch from ginneral banks, sayin how the rebils had licked him and was drivin him back like all possessed, and all because stantin had takin away his troops and sent 'em away where they warn't wanted. ses i, "kernel, i have had a good deal of doubt about that feller, stantin, ever sence he tried to get on your trowsers down at fort munrow. you see you can't never depend a grate deal on a turn coat. he once perfessed to be a pro-slavery man, but now he goes in for the abolishinists even stronger than the simon-pures. i tell you, kernel, you better look out for him." "wal," ses linkin, "we ain't got no time to talk about that. the secesh are almost on washington agin, and jest think what france and england will say. why, seward rote 'em at the last steamer that it was all over--that new orleans was open--that richmond would be taken in a few days; and here, by this stupid blunder, we are agin jest back where we were a year ago, and i've got to call fer more troops to defend the capital. what on arth will we do?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, if swarein or even choppin wood do any good, i would advise you to do one or both; but you see they won't. so put on your coat and let's talk this matter over." so we jest went over the subjec, and soon decided what to do. i tell you we made the telegraff fly all day sunday, and by night we all began to feel a grate deal easier. that nite the kernel and i had a long talk, and i told him i had invented a new military system to prevent the dangers of a retreat, and that, ef it had been adopted in ginneral banks' case he would have come off with all his men, and almost without a scratch. the kernel he was dredful anxious to know what it was. so i told him that my idee was to have every man supplied with a sheet-iron shield, about five foot long and about two foot wide, to strap rite on his back when he commenced to retreat. then the enemy might fire as hard as they pleased, while our sojers could take their time and not be compelled to run themselves out of breath. "wal," ses linkin, "how would they carry it when marchin?" he thought he had me there, but ses i, "kernel, my plan involves a hull change in the art of war. insted of so many baggage waggins and such long trains, i would have a wheelbarrow for every sojer! don't you see," ses i, "kernel, how nice that would work? every man could carry his own vittals, and his ammunition, his shield, &c., &c., jest as complete as could be. wen there was any fighten to be done, the wheelbarrows could all be placed in the rear, the sojers arm themselves and go out and fight. if they were whipped all they would have to do would be to fall back to the wheelbarrows, strap on their shield and walk off! there would be no runnin then to get out of the reach of bullets, and retreats of thirty-five miles a day would be useless. with an army of that kind, kernel, we could subdue the southern confederacy in 'sixty days,' and make out seward a prophet after all." "i'm afraid, majer, it's too late in the day to introduce your new military system. this infernal southern confederacy has got to be whipped pretty soon with such old hosses and waggins as we have got, or this union is split jest as sure as my name is abe linkin. you see, majer, you can't make a whistle out of a pig's tail, and it seems to me jest about impossibul ever to make union men agin out of the rebils. however, they shan't have washington, ef i have to call every man in the north here to defend it." ses i, "kernel, that's right. i'de stick to the white house until the top blowed off and the cellar caved in." you better believe we've been in an awful excitement here sence the news about banks cum. seward looks paler than ever, while chase is skeert half to deth for fear of its effect on the treasury. the kernel and i, however, keep cool, and we are getting things pretty well straightened out, so ef the secesh come here now, they may wish they had never got so nigh washington. linkin ses "he warn't skeered a hooter, but was only rarin mad." at any rate, he looked awful savage, and ef he had had my axe, i ralely believe he might have split rails enough to fence the southern confederacy in. i had intended to be back to downingville before the first of june, but linkin says he won't hear of my goin until he sees more daylight down south. i must be there the 4th of july, at any rate, for i never allow that day to go by without reviewin the downingville melisha. your friend, majer jack downing. letter x. _the major troubled with his old complaint, the "rumatics"--he examines the finances--mr. chase frightened--the major figures up the accounts on his slate--returns and shows the result to mr. lincoln--he is astounded--the "kernel and the majer" take some old rye--the major proposes to return to downingville to spend the 4th of july._ washington, june 8th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--it has been mity onpleasant wether sence i writ you last, an i have had a rale sharp twinge of the rumatics. these cold rains in june are hard on a constitushin that has had a tussle with nigh on to about eighty winters; but howsever, with a little elder bark tee, my favorit remedy wen it's mixed with a good deal of old rye, i've got now about as good as new agin. so the other day i telled linkin i was going to finish up my sifering on the financies. he sed he wished i would, for he was alreddy beginning to think about laying the foundashin for his nex message, an he wanted the facts to put in. so i telled him he must give me a letter of authority that i might show the seckatary of the treasury, so that he would see that i warn't eny common chap coming to pry into what was none of my business. so linkin sat down an writ a letter as follows: "dear sur:--majer jack downing is authorized to examine into the state of the financies _in partickelar_. "a. linkin." wen the kernel first writ the letter, he didn't have on the last two words in italicks. i asked him to put 'em on, an he did. "majer, what do you want them words for?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, them words will puzzle chase eenamost to death, an will so trubbel him that he will think ef he dares to keep back the truth, that you'll be sure to give him his walkin papers. you see, kernel, you must be a little mysterous with these pollyticians, or else they don't get afeered of you." i then put the letter in my hat, rite under the linin, an, takin my slate under my arm, and my hickory in my hand, i started for the treasury buildin. it aint far from the white house, an i soon got there. it's a mity big pile of stones, i tell you, and must have cost a heep of money to have got it fixed up so nice. jest as i was goin in the door, i met mr. chase comin out. he knew me an i knew him, tho' he didn't suspect for a minnit what i was after. ses he, "majer, i'm mighty tickled to see you. it does my heart good to see a genuwine loyal man in these days of rebellyn, an i know you're one." "wal," says i, "mr. seckatary, ef ginneral jackson was a loyal man, then i'm one, and ef he warn't loyal then there ain't eny sich thing as loyalty." ses he, "majer, you're rite, an what kin i do for you this mornin?" "wal," says i, "mr. seckatary, i've come around to inquire into the state of the financies. the president ses he's very busy, an bein as i was good at figers, he wanted me to jest take a look at the books an see how the ackounts stand." wen i sed this, i see he didn't look pleased at all. he began to make sum sort of apologies, that the ackounts were behindhand, and so on, but i telled him i warn't partickelar about all the little items, an that i only wanted to get at the ginneral sum; but as he still seemed to be hesitatin, thinks i to myself, now's the time to show him the president's letter--that will fix him, sure. so i took off my hat and showed it to him. wen he red it he was as perlite as a nigger wen he wants to humbug you. he looked at it a long time before he sed enything. wen he did speak, ses he, "majer, what do these last words 'in partickelar' mean?" "wal," ses i, "i don't know as i can tell. the president put 'em in there, and i didn't ask him what he meant by 'em." you see, i warn't goin to be fool enough to let him think i had suggested his putting 'em there, for that would have spoilt all my plans. i see he was worried, an that was jest what i wanted. after that he asked me to come in his office, and he began to tell me that the financies were in a very prosperous condishun. he took down a big book which he sed his clarks had prepared for him, so that he could see every saturday night jest how much the government was in debt. i took a look at it, but i couldn't tell head nor tail to it. he sed they kept their books by dubbel entry. i telled him that i should think that a single entry would be as many times as such a debt as ours ought to be chalked down. "now," ses i, "mr. seckatary, i want to get at this subject in a way that 'plain people,' as the kernel says, can understand it." ses i, "what is the debt now?" "wal," ses he, "it is $491,000,000." "is that all?" ses i. "why, in your report last winter you estimated that it would be $517,000,000, and you don't say that it is less than the estimate." "wal," ses he, "majer, that is what the books say." "now," ses i, "mr. seckatary, them books by dubbel entry ain't worth a peck of saw-dust. there was deacon doolittle's son, hosea, of downingville, who went to york and set up the dry-goods business. wen he failed, his books showed that he was worth two hundred thousand dollars, and yet he didn't have money enough to get his wife hum to his father's. you see dubbel entry is a good deal like riding two horses at once; you can't manage 'em, and things get so kinder mixed up in profit and loss, and notes payable and notes receevable, that you can't tell how you stand. now," ses i, "mr. seckatary, i want to ask you some questshins by single entry, and i will put the ansers down on the slate." ses i, "didn't you say in your report that the estemate for the army was for 400,000 soldiers, $400,000,000; for 500,000 soldiers, $500,000,000, and so on?" "yes, majer, that was the statement, i beleeve." "wal, now," ses i, "we can figer this down in short meter. how many soldiers have you had?" "wal," ses he, "over 600,000 have been paid for, nigh about 700,000." "now," ses i, "mr. seckatary, you don't want any dubbel entry, or threbbel entry to get at that; the multiplicashun tabel is just as good a document as i want. take that and my slate, and i ken figer it up in a minnit. you see, there is $700,000,000 at one slap. your books may show what you have paid, but you see, mr. seckatary, you are running this war on credit, and because you ain't paid all your debts, that is no sign that you won't have to. besides," ses i, "mr. seckatary, you have made, you know, some miscalculashuns, and mebby you may make more. in your first report in july, 1861, i've ben readin it keerfully, and i've got it marked down on the slate here, you sed the expenses for 1862 would be $318,000,000, but in december, you said they would be $543,000,000. now, here was mistake of over $200,000,000. you sed in july, the tariff would yield $57,000,000. in december you said you could not calculate on over $32,000,000. you estemated the receipts from land sales, in july, at $3,000,000. you cut it down in december to $2,300,000; and now congress, by passing the homestead bill, will whittle it all off. here, you see, are some great mistakes, but there are some on the other side of the account. there are some items of expenses, too, which you have omitted. there's the $30,000,000 recently passed to settle up cameron's ackounts. then there is a $100,000,000 of outstandin debts. then there is $100 bounty to each soldier, which, by the time the war is over will amount to $100,000,000 anyhow. then there is $1,000,000 given to buy the niggers in this district. let us see how much that makes. i'll add it up--$250,000,000, which, added to the $700,000,000, makes $950,000,000, as the present debt uncle sam has on his shoulders. you might just as well call it a thousand million of dollars and be done with it." wen i got through, the seckatary looked amazin red in the face, and ses he, "majer, the truth is, where there is so many peopul spendin money its mity hard to keep track of all the items." "wal," ses i, "there ain't only one more pint on which i want to show you you have made a mistake. in december last, you calkelated that the war expenses for 1863 would be $360,000,000, but the house has already passed bills for the army amounting to $520,000,000. then you thought, mr. seckatary, that the war would be ended by july, but here it is about that time, and we only seem to be jest fairly getting into the shank of the fight." "wal, to tell the truth, majer, this war has disappinted the hull of us, but i think i havn't been so foolish as seward. i never sed it would end in 'sixty days.'" "that's so," ses i, "but you see there's nothin like tellin the truth rite out, and its allus very bad to deceive the people on money matters. you may love the niggers, mr. seckratary, as much as you want to, but don't try to pull _the wool_ over white folks' eyes, or let other people do it, for it will break down the administration as sure as my name is majer jack downing." "wal," ses he, "majer, that's so, and when i send in my next report, i'm goin to jest speak rite out. i've tried to do my best to keep down expenses, but i can't, and when i get another chance i'me goin to put the blame where it belongs." ses i, "that's rite, mr. seckratary. don't let the raskils git clear without bein exposed. but ef you undertake to cover up their tracks, you will come out jest as old squire biddle did in that united states bank matter." i then bid the seckratary "good mornin," and started back to the white house. he was very perlite to me, and said he hoped the president and me would look at the subjeck favorably. i telled him that the kernel would do what was jest rite, and that ef he would only keep a sharp lookout on the plunderers and stealers, i would be his friend till deth. he sed he would, and we shook hands and parted. wen i got back linkin sot in a cheer fast asleep, with his feet up on a tabel. i giv the tabel a rap with my hickory, and the kernel stratened up jest like openin a jack nife, and ses he, "was i asleep, majer?" "yes, jest as solid as a saw-log. what on arth makes you sleep," ses i, "rite in the middle of the day?" "wal," ses he, "majer, the truth is, i was readin the nashinal _intelligencer!_" "sure enuf," ses i, "that's worse than opium." "but," says he, "what about the finances?" then i showed him the slate, and how i had figered up the debt, and told him all i sed to mr. chase. i never see a man so flustrated as linkin was. "wal," ses he, "majer, ef i was only back to illinoy safe and sound, you wouldn't never ketch me a runnin for president agin. i had no idee that the debt was anything like this. but ef the music has to be faced, i'll face it. there's one thing, majer, that we've got the advantage of any other administrashin in. we can say that this debt was a 'military necessity!' that cuts off debate." "wal," ses i, "kernel, perhaps the people will be satisfied with that, and perhaps they won't. any how, that won't make it any easier to pay the taxis." "wal," says linkin, "we'll leave that subjec to posterity." ses i, "is that fair, kernel, to burden posterity in that fashun?" "wal," ses he, "what's posterity ever done for us?" the kernel then took down the figers off my slate in his book, and sed he would keep 'em for his nex message. then linkin, ses he, "majer, you've worked like a nailer on these figers, an it's an awful dry an tough subjec. so i think you better have some old rye to sort of top off with." then he called the feller in purty bad clothes, who does arrands, and telled him to bring out the black bottle. "now, majer," ses the kernel, "take a good swig. it will be healthy for your rumatiz. as for me, i'll jest take a little for company sake. i don't drink myself, you know, majer, but i like to have a little old rye aroun; an i allus tell the old woman ef there's eny of it missin not to ask eny questshins." after we got dun drinking, ses i, "kernel, i have been here with you ever sence the 1st of february, an wen i cum i didn't expec to stay more than a month. now, the 4th of july is comin along close at hand, an i must be thinking about gettin back to downingville, for i must be there before the 4th. now," ses i, "kernel, ef you'll only go along with me down there, as ginneral jackson did, i'll promise you a great recepshun." "wal," ses he, "majer, i can't go. the truth is, the rebils need watchin. but you tell the downingville folks that jest as soon as the rebelyun is put down, i'm comin down ther. a town that can turn out such a loyall regiment as the 'downingville insensibles,' and such talented officers as insine stebbins, must be, as we westerners say, 'a heep of a place.' i'm sorry to have you go, majer, but i hope you'll be able to cum back after the nashinul annyversary." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i can't promis, but i'll see how my rumatiz gets on." i shall pack up in a few days, onless somethin onexpected occurs, and it may be the next time you heer from me, will be from downingville. if you print this letter, i hope you'll apologize for its dullness, for figgers are mity dry readin for most peepel. however, ef they don't study into figgers about these days, it won't be long, i'me afeered, before they'll be sorry they didn't. your frend, majer jack downing. letter xi. _the major does not go to downingville--loses his hickory--gets a bottle of whiskey by adams express co.--the major declines to sign the receipt at first--whiskey and the constitution--"the constitushinal teliskope"--a magical change--mr. seward's trick--the major discovers it--a negro in it._ washington, june 18, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--i expect you'll be struck all aback to git anuther letter from me, dated washington, and i'm kinder surprised myself, for i expected to be in downingville, long afore this. but you'll see by the time you git through this letter, that it was impossibul for me to leave. i got my trunks all packed up and ready to start, when lo! and beheld, my hickery, that ginneral jackson give me, was missin! now, i couldn't no more travil without my hickery cane then i could sodder up this broken union with skim milk. i told linkin i was all ready, but that my hickery was missin. so he called the feller in putty bad close, who does chores around the white house, and asked him if he'd seen it? he sed he hadn't. then i reckollected that there had been a cabbynet meetin the night before, and it struck me that some of the members had walked off with it. so linkin sent the feller around to see. after he'd gone, i told linkin ef any of 'em had it that i'd bet it was stantin, for ses i, "kernel, ever sense he tried to get on your trowsers down to fort monrow, he's acted jest as ef he wanted to play ginneral jackson, and ef he can git a piece of hickery that the old ginneral has handled, he'd think that he was on the road to glory." sure enuf he had it, but pretended it was all a mistake, jest as he did when i caught him in the kernel's trowsers. depend upon it, stantin needs watchin, for he is one of them kind of fellers who's got it into ther head that they are forordained for somethin, and they don't know what. the loss of my hickery kept me over one day longer, and the next day i got the bottle of borebon whiskey which you sent to me. a feller by the name of adams fetched it, and he wouldn't take any pay for his trubble either. i asked him ef he was eny relashin to phil adams, who used to keep a tanyard in downingville, as he was a very clever man, and used to do enything for his naybors for nothin. the chap laughed rite out loud at this, and sed "he didn't see it." ses i, "what don't you see?" "wal," sed he, "never mind, old feller, about tellin long stories, but jest put your name rite down there," and he handed out a big book full of writin. ses i, "mr. adams, i never put my name to enything that i don't understand." ses i, "that may be a secesh docyment for all i know." ses the feller, ses he, "git out! this is only a receipt for that bottle." "wal," ses i, "ef that's all, then here goes." so i got my spectacles and a quill pen, for i never rite with eny of the new-fangled kinds, and i jest rote out "majer jack downing" in a stile that made the fellow stare. ses i, "mr. adams, you have some awful poor riters among the fellers you deal with, but i ain't ashamed of that ritin enywhere." the chap he looked at it a moment, and then he looked at me, and finally ses he, "bully for you," and in a jiffy he was off, without even shakin hands or sayin good by. after he was gone i took the bottle into linkin's room and opened it. "now," ses i, "kernel, let's try this licker." "wal," ses he, "major, i'm a good judge of borebon, for it comes from my old state of kentuck." wen linkin saw the name on the bottle, "mr. cotton, 306 washington street, n.y.," ses he, "major, do you think this is loyal wiskey?" "why," ses i, "kernel, what makes you ask that questshin?" "wal," ses he, "don't you see the man's name is _cotton_!" "now," ses i, "kernel, what an idee that is! do you suppose it would be dangerous for him to live down in secesh, where they are burning _cotton_ as fast as they kin?" "wal, never mind the name, majer, let us taste of the wiskey. i can tell whether its loyal or not." so i opened the bottle and poured out some, and the kernel took a good swig. i also took a snifter, and we both pronounced it a no. 1 licker, and loyal, too. "now," ses i, "kernel, can you tell me why this wiskey is like the constitushin of the united states?" "no," ses he, "i don't see eny simularity." "wal," ses i, "kernel, this wiskey was made for _white men_, jest as the constitushin was." ses he, "majer, how do you know it was made for white men?" "wal," see i, "it is jest as plain to me as daylight. you see, kernel, the licker agrees with you. it tastes good. it won't hurt you; in a word, it corresponds with natur. that's a sign it was made for you. jest so it was with the constitushin. it applies to white men exactly, and they've always got along together with it fust rate. now, you give this wiskey to the niggers, and they get drunk on it, and cut up all sorts of scrapes, but white men, whom it was made for, know jest how to use it, and it don't do them eny hurt. jest so with the constitushin; you apply it to niggers and it is jest as bad for 'em as wiskey. they don't know how to use it, an they'll destroy everything, an make themselves an everybody else ten times worse off." "wal," ses the kernel, ses he, "majer, i wish i could see how it is that the constitushin don't apply to niggers jest as much as to white men." ses i, "kernel, you don't look at the constitushin thru constitushinal spectacles. that chicago platform bothers you." "now," ses i, "kernel, ef i'll make you a constitushinal tellskope, will you promise me to use it? if you will, it will be about as good a guide to you as ef i staid here all summer myself?" ses i, "it will show the constitushin as it is, an the union as it was." wen i spoke of this, linkin sed he'd be tickled eenamost to deth ef i would make him one. so i told him i could do it in one day, an that although i was very anxus to get hum, yet i'd fix this up before i started. so i jest went up to my room and began to plan. i had a pair of old spectacles, which ginneral jackson give me, and i knew that the glasses were jest as sound constitushinal glasses as were ever looked thru. so i took 'em out of the cases, an got a magnifyin glass and put between 'em, an fixed 'em in a long, narrer box. it took me about all day before i got it finished. wen it was all done, i looked thru it, and you never see sech a glorious site. i could see jest as ef it was the hull union layin out before me. there was the stars and stripes, an the eagle, an thirty millions of white people, all happy an contented, an joy an prosperity smilin everywhere. an the sky seemed to be bendin down so as to almost tech the arth, an away up in the clouds i could see rais of light streemin forth, an i thought i could even see the angil robes of washington, an jefferson, an madison, and the old ginneral lookin down, an rite over the hull was the words, "glory" and "peace," in grate big letters. it was raley beautiful. i got a lookin at it, an forgot all about myself, in a sort of a reveree, and wen i cum to, i found i'd been cryin, because, you see, that was the union _as it was_, an not as it is now. in fact, wen i got awake, i found it was eenamost pitch dark, an so linkin couldn't look thru the teliskope that nite. then i got a piece of chalk, an marked it "linkin's teliskope," an took it to him. "there," ses i, "kernel, that teliskope is done, an to-morrow you kin take a look at the union as it was, an the constitushin as it is." ses i, "the scene is a glorious one." so i left the teliskope in linkin's room that nite, an went to bed. the next morning after i got my breakfast, i went in, "and now," ses i, "kernel, we must try the teliskope." so i thought i'd look thru fust to see ef the glasses were set all rite, wen i was never so took aback in my life. instead of the joy and happiness, and the smilin faces, and the thirty millions of white people, the rais of lite in the sky with "glory and peace" on em, all was dark and dismal. all i could see was some 4,000,000 of niggers, and war, and bloodshed, and misery, camps full of sick sojers and broken waggons, wimmen and children cryin, and the sky was black, and away up on a black cloud, in letters still blacker, i could see the words "negro freedom and war." i jumped back as ef i was hit wen i saw it. ses linkin, "what's the matter, majer?" ses i, "kernel, that teliskope is all out of order. it ain't rite." but linkin sed he hadn't teched it, so i was puzzled. so after thinkin awhile, ses i, "kernel, was there enybody here last nite after i went away!" "yes," ses he, "boss seward came in for a while and talked over matters." ses i, "did he tech this?" "wal, he was lookin kinder inquirin at it, and i telled him what it was, and he seemed to be grately struck, and examined it very clus." "no," ses i, "that ackounts for it. the pesky critter has been playin one of his cunnin tricks on me; but my name ain't jack downing ef i don't expose him. no true constitushinal teliskope will giv such a view as that of the union." so i sot down and took out my jack nife, and went to work takin it all apart. i found the box all rite; there warnt enything in the tube, and i was puzzlin myself what could be the matter, when i slipped up the magnifying glass, and rite back of it was a little bit of a _paper nigger_, black as the ace of spades, that _that feller seward had cunninly slipped in there_! you see that at once ackounted for the hull troubbel, for the magnifin glass reflected the nigger instead of what it would, naterally, the white man. after i took the nigger out, it was all rite agin, and wen linkin looked thru it, he was perfectly astonished. "now," ses i, "kernel, you see that it is tryin to put the nigger where he don't belong that is the cause of all our trubbel. he don't belong in the constitushin, and when we undertake to put him ther it won't work. this trick of seward's jest shows you what he's up to. now, kernel, i'm going to start for downingville arly to-morrow mornin, and i'll leave you this teliskope so you can take a look at the union _as it was_, and don't you let seward or sumner, or any of them fellers, get hold of it. wen you get puzzled, jest go and look thru that, and you may depend upon it it will lead you strate. if you get inter eny deep troubbel, write me and i'll give you my advice, or ef you can't get along without me, i'll come back after the fourth is over, and stay with you till you get out of this scrape with the rebils. i told you i would stick to you, and i will." so i bid good bye to the kernel and his wife that nite, reddy to start in the early train in the mornin. i intend to give you a full ackount of the celebrashin of the fourth at downingville. insine stebbins, of the downingville insensibles, who writ the piece of poetry on mrs. linkin's ball, and who was wounded at chickenhominy and cum hum with a furlong, is to be orater of the occashin. jerusha matilda jenkins, the darter of deacon jenkins, and who went down to port roile to teech the contrarybands their primers, will also be there. the insine is a very smart chap, ef he is a niggerite, and i expect he'll do himself creditable. excuse this long letter, and beleeve me yours till deth, majer jack downing. letter xii. _the major disappointed--meets the president at west point--sees gen. scott--they talk over strategy--returns to philadelphia with the president--makes a speech at jersey city--mr. lincoln also speaks-meets seward at the astor house--a wheel within a wheel--mr. seward caught._ downingville, july 5, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ i don't beleeve ther is enything that so sorter gets all my runnin-gear out of order as onsartinty. wen i writ you last, i was jest leavin washington, and wen you come to hear how i've scooted round the country sence, you will be astonished. you see i hurried on hum as fast as i could go, because i wanted to get to downingville in time to see that the arrangements for the 4th were got up in the rite stile. but wen i got to boston, i was struck all up in a heep by gettin a telliegraff from linkin, tellin me not to go eny further till i heerd from him. that puzzled me terribully, and i was in an awful state of onsartinty. thinks i to myself, now there's sumthin up. what on arth can it be? has that feller stantin been cuttin up eny more of his capers? but i was so puzzled that i couldn't imagin wat was to pay. but i waited a few days, and then i got a letter from the kernel, in which he sed he wanted me to meet him at west pint with ginneral scott, as ther was sum grate struttygy goin on which he wanted to advise about. then i knowed ther was sum trubbel sumwher, so i jest packed up my trunks and tuk the ralerode for allbanee, so as to cum down the north river to west pint. i got ther in the nite, jest afore linkin cum, arly in the mornin. i didn't sleep a wink, but jest went rite over the river in the one hoss ferry-bote they've got there, and waited at the depow for the kernel. he was eenamost as glad to see me as he was wen i fust went to washington. he tuk me by the hand, and ses he, "majer, i feel a good deal safer wen you're around, for i know you won't deceeve me." ses i, "kernel, that's what i never do to eny man. ef he don't like my plane talk, then he needn't heer it, but ef i talk at all, i must talk out the blunt truth." "wal," ses he, "majer, we will go over and see the old ginneral, and then i will lay all my trubbel before you." [illustration: "he sed he jest cum out to see and be seen, and didn't intend to blab enything about public affairs."--page 111.] after we got our brakefast, we went to the old ginneral's room, and, takin out the maps, we went at it. i never studied geographee faster in my life than we did then. the kernel sed the news from ginneral mcclellan was that he would be compelled to go to the jeemes river for his supplize, and the grate questshin was, whether he cud turn his right wing around so as to swing agin the river jest like opening a barn dore. ginneral scott sed he thought it mite be done, provided it was done quick enuff. i telled em i hed often noticed that wen i opened one barn dore all at once there would cum a gust of wind, an open would go the other in spite of all i could do. ses i, "kernel, ef the rebels should pitch at the left wing while the rite is swingin, then both dores would be open, an they might both get off the hinges." ginneral scott sed he was afrade it might work that way, but ef the thing cum to the worst, he didn't see eny help for it. you see, the army nigh richmond was in a tite fix, an linkin knew it. wen the kernel telled ginneral scott how it was, the old man cried, and sed he didn't want to live to see the rebils whip that grate army. the whole country have been in a grate fogo about what linkin went to see scott about, but that was all. wen he went away the next day, he sed he wanted me to see seward, an ef ginneral mcclellan got defeated, advise with him as to what to do. so i went with the kernel back as far as filadelfy, where i thought i stop a few days to see how things would turn out. wen we got to jarsey city, the people wanted the kernel to make a speech. he sed first he wouldn't go out, but finally the cheers got so loud that i telled him he must go. "wal," ses he, "majer, i can't. you jest go and tell em that i am too tired." so i stepped out on the platform and swingin my hickery around, ses i, "feller-citizens, the president has been up two or three nites travellin, and he ain't abil to speak. you must excuse him." wen they heered that, it didn't suit em at all, and a good meny yelled out, "who are you?" then i remembered that i had forgot to tell em who i was. so i stepped out, and ses i, "i'me majer jack downing." then you had ought to hev heered em cheer, and linkin, you know is a queer feller, and wants to know all that's goin on, so he cum out to see what was the matter. after he cum out, of course, he couldn't back out of a little speech. he sed he "jest cum out to see and be seen, and didn't intend to blab enything about public affairs." the whistle soon sounded, and off we went. nothing happened on the way, and i bid the kernel good bye in filadelfy, and went to the continental hotel to wait and see how the battle cum off. they have nigger waiters here, dressed up like quakers, and that is the reason they call it a continental hotel--so they say. in a few days i saw how the battle had turned, and i knew seward would be along. the kernel sent me a telliegraff that he would be at the aster house such a day, and i agreed to meet him there. i was determined to smoke the old fox out this time, ef it was in my power, and so i began to study him. weed was there, who thinks he is very cunnin, and governor morgan and others. mcclellan bein compelled to retreat from richmond, they all thought that france and england would interfere, and what was to be done? seward sed we must put the best face on matters we could, and raise more men to fight the rebils, and that by showin a bold front we might frighten off the uropean powers. he sed he thought it might all be settled in "sixty days" yet, and ef mcclellan couldn't settle it by fightin, he could by deeplomacy. he sed "he would run the machine as long as ther was a linchpin left, and let john bull and looe napoleon do their best." weed wanted to know, ef we had a war with england, wether it wouldn't be better to have it carried on by contrack. he thought the government might let it out and make money by the operashin. he sed he could furnish the powder and shoddy, and wouldn't charge over five per cent. commission. gov. morgan sed he was in favor of a war with england, and as it would be mostly a naval fight, the government would need a good menny vessels, and he had a brother who was a capital judge of sich matters. stetson sed he thought a war with england would improve bizness in york, specially hotel-keepin, and as the aster house was handy down town, it would be a first-rate place for officers' head-quarters. after they all got through, they asked me my opinion. i turned rite to mr. seward, and ses i, "boss, i'm goin to speak plane." ses he, "that's rite, majer. no one can find fault with you. you're a loyal man, and you've a rite to speak your mind." "now," ses i, "in the first place, boss, i want to ask you a plane questshin. we all know you are runnin the government machine, and whenever i look at a machine, i want to know what the drivin wheel is made of. you see if that is all rite, things will go putty nigh rite." ses seward, ses he, "majer, i've got a model of my machine here, and ef you would like to look at it you kin." so he took out a little curious-looking box, and out of the box a machine. it was a cute-lookin affair. "there," ses he, "do you see that big wheel?--that's the drivin wheel." i looked at it, an i see it was marked aroun the rim, "the union and the constitushin." "wal," ses i, "boss, that looks all rite. eny machine that runs on that basis must be runnin rite. but," ses i, "somehow it don't seem to work well. we ought not to get into so much trubbil ef we were jest runnin on the old constitushinal basis." "wal," ses he, "majer, you see so it is." "now," ses i, "boss, there's somethin rong sumwhere. either the ile is poor or the stuff is bad, or our government machine on that basis would run jest as slick as greese." the more i looked at the machine the more it puzzled me. i knew what a fox seward was, an i remembered how he stuck the little nigger in linkin's teliskope. so all at once the old sayin that "there's allers a wheel within a wheel," popped into my hed. i didn't say it out loud, but i sed, ses i, "boss, will you let me see whether there ain't sumthin rong about that?" ses he, "sartinly, majer--go ahed." so i jest out with my jack knife an went at it. i tuck it all apart. wen i went at the wheel i saw the boss begin to wince, but i went rite on, an purty soon i saw, sure enough, the outside wheel was only a sham, for the rale wheel which run the government machine was marked "higher law--abolition." "now," ses i, "boss seward, i'm done with you. here's a wheel within a wheel, jest as i expected. it shows what an infarnal hypocrite you are, and ef you're a mind to fite john bull or the south, or all the world, as long as you run on that wheel, i won't help you." so i jest tuck my hickery an went out of the room. you never see such a dumbfounded, scart set of men in your life, an seward looked as ef he would craul through an auger hole. i cum rite on after that to downingville, but i didn't get here in time to see about the arrangements. the insine made his orashin and jerusha sung the oad prepared for the occashin. my letter is so long that i can't tell you enything about it, but wen i rite agin i may, ef sumthin more important don't happen. yours, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xiii. _the major returns to washington--things get mixed up--lincoln and the panther--splittin rails and the union--the major and the president visit gen. mcclellan's army--going up james river--alarm of the rebels--exciting scene on board the boat--nobody hurt--the president reviews the troops at harrison's landing--the return trip--the president and party bathe in the potomac--almost a catastrophe--the major's life-preserver--the moral of it--the president proposes a conundrum._ washington, july 21, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ wal, here i am back agin to washington. i didn't expect to cum on before fall, at eny rate, but i got a letter from linkin, tellin me he couldn't do without me, no how. he sed that the bars were all down since i left, and that the cattle, an hosses, an hogs, an sheep, an mules, were all mixed up together. now, every farmer knows what a mess it makes of it wen you git fat cattle, an the cows, an the sheep, an hosses, an hogs, all muddled together in one lot. i see, at once, the pickle linkin was in, an so i detarmined to push off for washington once more, an see ef i couldn't help him out. it was oncommon hot wether, an it pulled down purty hard on a constitushin which has had to go thru about eighty sich summers. howsoever, no one ought to stand about hot wether in the sarvice of his country, even ef he don't git a salary, or have a contrack, or some brother or son where he kin make a pile. i never had a cent for all i've done, and wouldn't take it. i think, ef there is any human critter on arth who is meaner than another, it is the one who plunders the people, all the while purtending to be a patriot. wen i arriv, ses i, "kernel, what's the matter?" ses he, "majer, did you ever hear of the story of a man who caught a panther by the tail?" ses i, "yes, kernel, i have." "wal," ses he, "i'm that man. i've got the biggest he-panther by the tail that you ever heerd tell of. ef i was splittin rails i'de know jist what to do." "why," ses i, "kernel, what could you do then?" "wal," ses he, "jest stick his tail in the crack of the log, knock out the wedge, and run. but you see, majer, i ain't splittin rails now, an that plan won't work." "now," ses i, "kernel, you ain't splittin rails, but i'm afeerd you're splittin somethin else." ses he, "what?" ses i, "the union!" "now, majer," ses the kernel, "you don't think i want to split the union, do you?" "no," ses i, "i don't know as you're raley _tryin_ to split it, but then you've been such a splitter all your life, that perhaps you are doin it unbeknown to yourself. you see, kernel, as long as you stick to them abolishinists, jest so long the union will not only stay split, but the split will grow wider. they are the wedge an you are the mallet. you jest knock the wedge out, an the union will cum together jest like shuttin up a jack-nife. you see, they hold that some of the states have got an institushin which they consider rong, and they are detarmined to uproot it. in tryin to do that, they'll split everything all to smash, an by the time they get thru, it will look as ef lightnin had struck this country from maine to texas, in spots not more than six inches apart." "wal," ses the kernel, ses he, "majer, that brings up a great moral questshin, as the nigger said when he was stealin chickens, an we ain't got time to discuss it now. you see, majer, i sent for you to know what i better do about mcclellan. i git all sorts of contradictory stories from his army, an i'm puzzled most to deth to know what to do." "wal," ses i, "kernel, there's nothin like goin in the field yourself, an examine for yourself ef you want to know how things stand." "wal," ses he, "that's jest what i've been thinkin of, an as you're a military man, i wanted you to go with me." i telled him i had no objecshin to goin, an that ef i had a fair chance i thought i could tell about how things looked. so we got reddy, and the kernel asked old blair's son frank and sekertary stantin's chief clark to go along with us. we went down the potomack, an jest called at fort monrow, and then went up the jeems river to harrisin landin. goin up the river we kept a sharp look-out for the rebils, who line the bank and shoot at our botes. i told the kernel that he must be mitey kerful an not get hit, as the way stocks would tumble in wall street would be a caushin. so i tuk him down stairs wen we come to the dangerous places. there they had the bote lined with bales of hay. ses he, "majer, which way does the shootin cum from?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, there's no tellin, but," ses i, "you better get behind that bale, for it's a big one, an here's another on t'other side, so i guess you'll be safe." while he was settin there, ses he, "majer, i ain't afeerd a hooter, but you see i didn't want them seceshers to brag about killin me." "no," ses i, "kernel, that wouldn't do eny how." jest then "bang" went sumthin like a shot. the kernel jumped about ten feet, rite across the bote, and hit frank blair with his left boot rite where he ought not to. frank thought he'd been struck with a cannon-ball, and tumbled over, leavin the seat of honor uppermost. stantin's chief clark acted as ef he'd been eatin poke-berries, and had an awful gripin in the bowels. it seems one of the bales of hay had been tipped over when the kernel give his big jump, an hit the chap rite in his bread-basket. we were all purty badly scart, for i tell you it makes a feller feel mighty narvous wen he's in an inemies country, an may be hit eny moment with a cannon-ball or a minny bullet. shootin will do very well as long as sumbody else is shot at; but wen it cums to yourself, it makes you feel week in the jints, an sumtimes brings on the die-area. wen we cum to find out, however, we learned we had a scare for nothin. the pilot, in turning one of the short bends in the river, had jerked on his chains too hard, an snapped one of them rite in two. this noise was what sounded down in the cabin like a shot. wen we got to the landin, ginneral mcclellan had hosses reddy for all of us to ride. linkin chose a black one, and got on. ses i, "kernel, is black your favorite color?" ses he, "majer, no joking now. this is serious bisiness." so i got a white one. i can't ride quite so handy as i did thirty or forty years, yet it is not every nag that could throw me now. linkin's sterrups were too short for his legs, though they were let out jest as long as they could be. it kinked him up a good deal, an before we got through reviewing the troops, ses he, "majer, i can't stand this bendin of my jints. i'm going to remedy it;" and so he jest turned one leg over the hoss's neck and rode sideways the rest of the time. the sojers cheered him as we went along, an seemed mity glad to see him. in one place he got up on a brestwork an made a short speech to 'em. he wound up by telling 'em that he had majer jack downing, ginneral jackson's old frend, with him. when he sed that, the cheers were dubbled, an i paid my respects to the complyment by takin off my hat an makin jest about the neetest bow that ever was. after we had seen all the troops an made all the inquiries we wanted to, we cum away. the seseshers did not trubbel us comin down the river, an we soon once more were sailin up the potomack. comin up the river the day was warm, an we all felt first rate that mcclellan was as well off as he was; the kernel said he felt jest as if he would like to have a swim. all hands agreed it would be a capital chance, an so linkin, and blair, and stantin's chief clark, undressed for a splurge in the water. the kernal asked me to go in too, but i telled him that, hot as it was, my rumatiz would not allow it. wen they got about reddy, now, ses i, "kernel, look out and don't go where the water is too deep, for if you get tuckered out or have the cramp, you may not get back to the bote." he sed "there warnt eny danger--that he hed swum the mississippi river nigh about all over wen he was a boy, and that he guessed he could stand the potomack." so off they went. linkin could outswim the hull party, and blair an the other feller with him looked like sunfish alongside a sturgeon. i thought likely linkin mite overdo himself, or get the cramp or sumthin, so i jest went to my valese and tuk out my patent gutty perchy life-preserver. i ment to have it reddy if enything happened. wal, i hadn't more than got back to the side of the bote, wen i seed the kernel flounderin and kickin, and blowin, as ef he was chokin. blair and stantin's chief clark were tryin to help him, but it was like the blind ledin the blind, an sech another muss in the water you never did see. i saw it was time for my life-preserver, so i jest blowed it up and hollered out to linkin to ketch hold of it, an told blair an the other feller to let him alone, that that would save him. wen linkin got hold of it he jest raised himself rite up, an looked as happy as a boy with a new hat. he floated rite along towards the bote, an soon cum aboard. ses he, "majer, i owe you a debt of etarnal gratitude. you've saved my life." ses he, "majer, this life-preserver of yours is the greatest article ever invented. wen i get dressed i want to examine it." so, purty soon, he cum in, an ses he, "let's take a good look at it." so i showed it to him. the first thing he saw on one side of it was the following words: "_the constitution as it is, and the union as it was._" ses he, "majer, what have you got that motto on a life-preserver for?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i put that there because of the similarity between the two things. now, that preserver saved your life, didn't it?" "yes," ses he, "majer, it did." "wal, the _sentiment in those words is the life-preserver of the country_. you can't any more save the country without stickin to them, than you could have saved yourself without holdin on to the life-preserver. you must stick to the constitution _as it is_, and not as sumner and greeley want it." the kernel began to look kinder struck up wen he see how i had him, an so, seein my advantage, i kept on. ses i, "kernel, the truth is, you are just now in swimmin with greeley, an sumner, an wilson, an lovejoy, an thad. stevens, an it is no wonder the country is like you was jest now, chokin and gaspin, and just reddy to sink. you must git out of such kumpany, an the only way to do it is to lay hold of the "_constitushin as it is_," and ef you do that, you'll save the country jest as easy as i saved you with that life-preserver." ses he, "majer, hold up, you're drivin your hoss rite into my stable, an you don't give me a chance to say whoa." ses i, "kernel, go ahed, an ef you can refute what i've sed, i'd like to see you." ses he, "majer, do you know why a man's face is like the eend of an old-fashioned house?" ses i, "no, kernel, can't say i do," "wal," ses he, "because it's his _gabble_ eend." "wal," ses i, "that may be a good joke, but after all, kernel, it don't answer my arguments." but i couldn't get another word on politics out of linkin that day. he seemed to keep up more of a thinkin than i'd ever seen him before. we all got home to the white house safe that nite, an, on the hull, the trip had not only bin pleasant, but profitable, for it will lead to some grate changes in a few days. yours, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xiv. _the president has an attack of fever and ague--the major prescribes elder bark tea--a fearful mistake--the bark scraped the wrong way--mr. lincoln has to be rolled--stanton, seward and the major--a ludicrous scene--the "kernel" comes to and begins to joke--the moral of taking the wrong medicine--"the irrepressible conflict."_ washington, august 1, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--i tell you i've had my hands full since i writ you last. linkin has been nigh about down sick with the fever an ager. of course it wouldn't do to let the tel-lie-graf git hold of it, for it would scare wall street in spasms, and knock stocks down wus than the retreat of ginneral mcclellan. so stantin put his sensership on the news, an that was the end of it, while i went to work as i could to cure the kernel up. you see, the kernel, for the last month or so, has been very much broke of his sleep. sumtimes he's up nigh about the hull nite consulten with stantin, an hallick, an seward, an the nite air has been too much for him. the banks of the potomick in july an august are mity hard on the constitushin, an ef there is any bilyusness in a man, its purty sure to bring it out. linkin says his constitushin is just like the war, so far, nigh about all _bill_yus. one day i went into the kernel's room, an seein he looked kinder blue about the gills, ses i, "kernel, what's the matter?" ses he, "majer, i feel as cold as a frozen turnip." ses i, "kernel, ain't you gettin the ager?" ses he, "no, majer, i don't think i'm gettin it, for i've got it already." "wal," ses i, "kernel, ef there is eny feller on arth who can cure the fever an ager, it's me." "wal," says he, "majer, i wish you would go ahead, for i can't afford to be sick now. the truth is, ef i had a good ax an some chestnut timber i could soon work off the shakes myself. i used to have them when i was a boy, powerful bad, but i could jest go out eny mornin and break an ager by splitting up a hundred rails as a breakfast spell; but now i s'pose i must dose myself with some sort of pizen doctor stuff, just because it wouldn't look well for a president to split rails." "no," ses i, "kernel, you needn't take eny pizen stuff. i'll fix you sum medecin which was a grate favorite with ginneral jackson, an it will cure you up as sure as my name's downing." ses he, "what is it?" ses i, "it's elder bark tea." so i jest went to work and got the feller in bad close, who does chores around the white house, to go out into the sububs an scrape me sum bark. i told him very particaler how to do it, an to be very kerful an not to scrape it roundabout-ways of the wood. you see, elder bark is the queerest stuff in the world. if you scrape it down it acts as a fisic, an if you scrape it upwards it becomes an emetick, while by scrapin it around-ways, it ain't nuther one thing nor tother, but just raises a young arthquake gripin an panein a feller as ef the cholery, an yaller fever, an kronick rumatiz had all got hold of him at once. purty soon the feller cum back, and i went to work makin the tea. after i got it fixed, i went in an give it to linkin, who was shakin away as ef he would fall apart. "now," says i, "kernel, ef you feel bad in the nite jest call me, and i will see what's the matter." nigh about mornin sum one was rappin at my door like all possessed. i bounded out as spry as i could, an down stairs i went. there was linkin agroanin an writhin, an lookin as pale as a ghost, an as lean and lank as a rail. they had sent for seward an stantin, an all hands were in a terribul excitement. seward seemed to be awfully worried. ses he, "major, what would we do if linkin dies, for he's the only one of us left that the peeple's got eny faith in at all?" stantin didn't say nothin, but he was lookin round, i thought, to see where the kernel's trowsers was. as soon as i got a fair look at the kernel, an felt his pulze, i began to suspect what was the matter. the fust thing i did was to call the feller in bad close who got the elder bark, an ask him particular how he scraped it. cum to find out, the numskull had cut the bushes down, an then scraped them around, jest what i had telled him not to do. i comprehended the situashin in a jiffy. ses i, "mr. seward, i understand all about this case, an ef you'll stand back about four inches, an do jest as i tell you, we'll have the kernel all rite in no time." then, turnin round, ses i, "stantin, i want you to lend a hand, too, and make yourself ginnerally useful, an don't run off an issoo a proclamashin afore you know what is what." "now," ses i, "the feller that got the elder bark for the kernel scraped it the rong way, an the medicine won't work. the only way to get it rite is to roll the kernel over fourteen times clean across the floor. it is a tough remedy, but desput diseases require desput remedies." so i telled seward an stantin to take hold, and the way we rolled the kernel over an over was a caushin. it seemed as ef it might break every bone in his body, for his frame is so sharp an so full of angles that it jarred an jolted like rollin over a wagin wheel wen there's no fellers on the spokes. finally he cum to, an we lifted him on the bed, an in a little while he felt like another person. seward an stantin looked skeert yet, but i telled them they needn't have no fears--that the kernel was as sound as a dollar. stantin said he'd hurt his spine in rollin linkin; at eny rate, he puffed an blowed like a porpose. i telled him to go home an take some of chase's "greenbacks" for a poultice, an ef that didn't cure him, then there warn't no virtue in "legal tenders." seward sed, as i was sich a good doctor he'd like to know what was good for pizen. wen he was a boy he sed he pizened one of his feet, an that it had allers trubbled him, more or less, ever sence. i telled him to get one of sumner's speeches, an bind on the place, for there warn't enything like pizen to draw out pizen, and i thought sumner's speeches would draw pizen out of ded men, and that i wondered the doctors hadn't got to usin them for bringin to life people who had killed themselves with laudalum, prussick acid, an sich things. [illustration: "so i telled seward an' stanten to take hold, and the way we rolled the kernel over was a caushin."--page 128.] as soon as the kernel cum to, he begun to joke. ses he, "majer, do you know why you and seward and stantin rollin me on the floor were like men spredin hay in a meadow?" ses i, "no, kernel, i don't, unless the pitchen and rollin are a good deal alike." "no, no," ses he, "majer, the reason is because it was done to _cure_ me!" "now," ses i, "kernel, that is purty sharp, but do you know why your sickness is like the union?" "no," ses he, "i don't see into that, unless it's because we're both haven a tough time of it." "no," ses i, "that ain't it." "wal," ses he, "what is it?" "wal," ses i, "because _it has been takin the rong medicen_!" ses he, "how is that, major? i don't understand you." "wal," ses i, "it's jest here. you know that feller who does chores for you scraped the elder bark the wrong way, and wen you took it, it come nigh on to killin you. but i didn't know but what it was all rite, and so i give it to you. now, jest so it's been ever sence you've been president. seward's been the feller who has been scrapin the medicen for the union, an he has _scraped it all the rong way_, an you've been giving it all the time without knowing it. you see, the hull country has got the gripes and the shakes, jest as you had a little while ago, and it all cum from seward's rong kind of medicen. you see, seward is tryin to make the people swallow the 'irrepressible conflict,' which is fixed about as follows: higher law 2 oz. confiscation 2 oz. taxation 2 oz. justice 0 oz. abolition 8 oz. (well mixed.)" "now, kernel, such a dose as that would give any country a worse set of spasms and agers then were ever heard of before. old john dumbutter, the laziest man i ever knew in maine, sed he once had the fever an ager in mishegan so that it shook the buttons off his coat; but such medicen as seward is givin the country now will shake even the tail fethers out of the grate american eagle." ses linkin, ses he, "hold on, majer, don't pour sich hot shot into me when i'm sick." so i held up; but i tell you, the kernel has felt very blue sence that time. one day ses he, "majer, what a grate mistake i made in not makin crittenden's compromise the basis of my administration; but it's no use cryin over spilt milk. the leaders of our party wanted the chicago platform put through, and i'm the man to do what i undertake or sink in the attempt." "or split the union?" ses i. "wal," ses he, "i don't know about that, but what's in the way must cum down." things look very bad here jest now, and we all feel afraid that they may be worse instead of better. stantin wants to issoo a proclamashin which he thinks will set all things rite, but seward ses proclamashins are played out. linkin thought at one time to put out a call for a day of fastin and prayer, but hallack is opposed to it. so things are workin along now kinder slip shod, but i'll try to keep you posted as usual. yourn till deth, majer jack downing. letter xv. _gen. mcclellan's change of base--a bear story--a delegation of clergymen--the major's opinion on negroes and "edecated peepul"--how general jackson saw through them--how the war is to end--mr. lincoln tells another story._ washington, august 14, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--it has been jest about the hottest wether, sence i writ you last, i ever did see. the kernel ses he feels as limpsey as an eel, an i tell you it has taken the starch out of the hull of us. ef i don't write a letter this time worth printin, it will be because my idees have all kinder oozed out through my skin. one day the kernel ses to me, ses he, "majer, what do you think about mcclellan's new base on the jeemes river?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, it reminds me for all the world of old truxton miller's bar hunt, away up in the north part of maine, when i was boy." the kernel likes to hear a story as well as to tell one, so he insisted that i should tell him all about it. so i proceeded: ses i, "old truxton was the most noted bar hunter in all that part, an it warnt often when he got started after a bar that it ever got away. he could yell an holler equal to wild injins, an he ginerally scart away all the varmints for several miles around. one spring the bars had been very trubbelsome, carryin off his sheep, lambs, an even calves an yearlins, and truxton vowed he'd go an attack the bars in their den. so off he started with his dubbel-barrelled shot gun an his big dog, harcules, for a regular bar hunt. he soon got on their track, an he followed them to their den. jest as one was goin in he let go his gun an took one of 'em in the thigh. this only made matters worse, for out come two or three others, an soon the old feller was tackled on all sides. he felt pretty safe with harcules, but soon the bars made for the dog, an they tore him to pieces in a jiffy. truxton shot one of 'em, but that put the infernals in the rest, an the old feller had to 'skedaddle,' as they say in these days. seeing a tree handy by he started to go up, but a powerful beast fetched him a wipe with his paw an tore off the seat of his trowsers. he got away an that was all, an looked down on the bars in dismay. now," ses i, "kernel, i think that mcclellan's 'new base' is something like old truxton's. but all his neighbors turned out, an finally got the old feller out of his danger, an when he come down he made this remark, ses he, 'neighbors, it's one thing to hunt a bar, but it's quite another thing _when the bar hunts you_!'" so ses i, "kernel, it's one thing to hunt the secesh, but it's quite another thing when the secesh hunts you, an it appears to me as if mcclellan is treed in his 'new base.'" "wal, majer," ses the kernel, "how are we to get him away?" "wal," ses i, "do jest as old truxton's neighbors did--scare off the bars! scare off the secesh! get around 'em on all sides an make them believe you are goin to attack 'em from every quarter, an they will soon scatter so that the ginnerel can change his base agin. call it 'a great piece of strutegy,' and the people won't know the difference." "wal," ses the kernel, "that's jest what has got to be done, and though it's a mity dangerous movement, rite in the face of the rebils, yet it must be done, or all the troops will die of disinterry where they are." before this letter reaches your readers the tel_lie_graf will announce the hull movement. the other day the kernel had a call from some nigger preachers. he sent for 'em to have a talk about seein whether they wouldn't consent to go to centril america, but they didn't seem to like it much. they sed they would think about it and report. i told the kernel that when he got niggers to immigrate, that the next thing he could do would be to get the kinks out of their hair. ses he, "why not, majer?" "wal," ses i, "because it ain't their natur." ses i, "kernel, you talk to these niggers jest as if they were white people, all except their color. you seem to think that they will do something for their posterity, sacrifice something, but they won't. the nigger only cares for the present. the mulattoes have some of the talents of the white men, but the nigger not a bit." "now, majer," ses linkin, "you are prejudiced. don't all the great men of the world, all the larned men of europe, and all christian phylanthropists, don't they all consider it the highest duty to try an elevate the black race?" "now," ses i, "kernel, i don't care a blue postage stamp for all the great men in the world. a little plain mother wit i have always found better than a stack of book larnin, an ef any one will jest take up the nigger race an study it out practically, they will see that it has allers been the same uncivilized, heathin people when white folks did not have control of 'em. you send 'em to centril america, an in a gineration or so they will be again eatin lizards an worshipping snakes, as they do in africa now." ses i, "kernel, there's no peepul in the world so likely to lead you astray as edecated peepul. they are all mad as march hares on this nigger questshin, jest as they were in old cotton mather's time on witches. edecated peepul, kernel, ain't got any more wit or common sense than other folks, but they try to make you believe they have, an will talk high-falutin words jest to frighten you if they kin. they tried that on the old ginneral in the days of the biddle bank, but they couldn't budge him an inch. one time the bankers and moneylenders and brokers in wall street, sent on a committee to see the ginneral, to honey fuggle him into not vetoing the bank bill. ogden huffman, then the greatest orater, an jest the smartest lawyer york had, was sent on as spokesman. he could talk jest as slick as grease, and knew more law in a minnit than the old ginneral did in all day. one night he staid till almost mornin talkin and talkin, scoldin a little an palaverin a good deal more. the old ginneral didn't say much, only once in a while puttin in a questshin. finally huffman got reddy to go, an axed what the ginneral thought of the argements he had made. the old ginneral pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, run his fingers through his hair, an jumpin out of his cheer, walked across the room as if he was tarein mad, rite up to mr. huffman. when he got there, ses he, 'mr. lawyer, your talk is all very pretty, very eloquent, an very larned with latin, but (an here he fetched his old hickory down on the floor) i shall veto that bank of biddle's, by the eternal!' you see the old ginneral couldn't hold a candil to huffman, as far as larnin an talk went, but he had the genuine common sense that seen rite through the hull subject. so i tell you, kernel, don't put your trust in edecated peepul. ef the hull world thinks that you kin make a white man out of a nigger it only shows that the hull world is made up of fools." "wal," ses linkin, "that all may be very true, but you see, majer, i've got these contrybands on my hands, an i've got to fish or cut bait. we've only got a few thousand free now, an the peepul in the north are in arms to murder 'em ef i send any more there. i shall soon have two wars on my hands ef i don't contrive some plan to get rid of the kinky heads. you, see, majer, a fire in front an a fire in the rear will be too much of a good thing." "i see, i see, kernel," ses i, "you've got to change your base." "exactly, majer, you hit the nail rite on the hed." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i can't give you a bit of advice except what i have all along. put the negro in his place, an he won't be a bit of trubbel to you, but as long as you try to get along with him out of his place, you'll be in hot water. as for goin to centril america, they won't go thar eny sooner than they will to kamscatky." "wal," ses linkin, ses he, "if they won't do that, we shall all pretty soon be in a nice kittle of fish." "wal," ses i, "kernel, can you tell me how you think this war is goin to end?" "wal, major, i can't exactly see through the hull subject yet, but i'll tell you a story that about expresses my present idees of the subject. one night at a tavern out in illinoy, two drunken men were sent to sleep in the same room. now there was two beds in the room, but they were so drunk that they both got in one bed, but did not know it. no sooner in than one sung out to the other, 'i say, bill, some feller is in my bed.' the other sung out in reply, 'i say, jim, some feller is in my bed, too.' after swearing at the landlord for a while for not givin 'em single beds, bill sung out, 'i say, jim, i'm goin to kick my feller out of bed.' wal, ses bill, so am i.' so at it they went, kickin like all possessed, until both of 'em lay sprawlin out on the floor. they had kicked themselves out of bed! now, major, i guess that will be jest about how this war will end. the way we're goin on, both the north an the south will kick one another out of bed before they stop, and out of house and home, too." "wal," ses i, "kernel, that's about my idee, too, and i don't beleeve, by the time they get through, either side will have a bed-blanket or even a hull shirt left. they'll be wus off than billy bradly when he fit with the catamount, who didn't have a rag left on him except the stock around his neck." here the conversashin dropped. the kernel looked very solemncolly, and i thought i wouldn't say nothing to hurt his feelins. there ain't enything new here jest now, except the arrival of new regiments. seward feels as happy as a little gal with a new doll every time a regiment comes along. stantin takes down his big book an adds it on to the number alreddy in the army, while chase gets ready to issoo more greenbacks. your frend, majer jack downing. letter xvi. _the science of "military strategy"--the major's opinion upon it--a call from the secretary of the american and foreign benevolent society for ameliorating the condition of the colored race--his speech--the president's reply--a curious prayer--the major's opinion on slavery --the critical condition of affairs--mr. lincoln tells a story._ washington, sept. 2, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--sence i writ you last i've been studyin military strutegy. it is a grate science. our army, down in virginny, has been in grate strates lately, an if it hadn't been for military strutegy it would have all been taken prisoners. ses the kernel to me, the other day, ses he, "majer, what do you think that military strutegy consists in?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, it consists in gettin out of your enemy's way wen he's too much for you, an gettin in his way wen you're too much for him." ses i, "kernel, i don't know whether that is down in the books, but that's the common sense view of the subject." "wal," ses linkin, "whatever strutegy consists in, we don't seem to have a bit of it, for we get in the enemy's way jest wen he's too strong for us, an get out of his way wen he ain't too strong for us. i'm gettin eenamost discouraged with this kind of military strategy." "wal," ses i, "kernel, you've got too many ginnerals an too many armies. there's too many fellers, with more brass in their faces than there is in their buttons, who want to be the biggest toad in the puddle. now, there can't be but one big toad, an so there can't be but one head ginneral. you ought to make one man command-in-cheef, an make him take the field, so that he can see for himself how matters are goin. ginneral hallick, here in washinton, ain't the thing." "wal, majer, there is no use of cryin over spilt milk. the troops down in virginny have been very roughly handled agin by the rebils, an have got so mixed up that it will require a grate deal of strutegy to get them straitened out. the question is, what is to be done?" jest as i was about to give the kernel some advice, who should come in but sumnure, an a feller with a white handkercher around his neck, an two or three other solemn-lookin chaps. the feller in a white kercher spoke up, an ses he, "mr. president, we're come to sympathize with you in the nashin's afflicshin, for the lord has agin beat us with stripes--ah. mr. president, i'm chief secretary of the american and foreign benevolent society for ameliorating the condishin of the colored race--ah--an i have been appinted cheerman of a committee to wait on you an express to you our opinions in the present fearful crisis in our country's history. our society, which is composed of all the most pious maiden ladies in our town--ah--who are over forty years of age, an, therefore, may be considered wise and discreet, desire me to express to you their deep conviction that god will never bless our armies with victory--ah--so long as you do not fight for the freedom of our dearly beloved colored brethren--ah. our society, mr. president, has given the condishin of our colored brethren great attenshin--ah. you can judge of the extent of our labor wen i inform you that the sisters of our society have distributed the past year to our colored brethren in liberia, 500 flannel shirts--ah--600 wool socks--ah--100 bibles--ah--100 tracts on temperance--ah--500 toothpicks--ah--and a large supply of cologne water--ah! we should have been glad to have supplied the sufferin bondmen of the same oppressed race in our own country, but the vile rebellion of the infernal slaveholders has prevented. we ask you now to proclaim liberty to the captives, and 'let the people go'--ah. do not let your heart be hardened as parroh's was, but save our land from sorrow, an our armies from further defeat by a decree of righteousness. then will the lord smile on us, an then shall glory cover the land--ah." i believe i've got that speech down purty nigh as the feller delivered it, for he spoke very slow an stately, as if he was tryin to make an impreshin. wen he got thru, linkin got up, and ses he, "mr. secretary, i'm kinder glad to see you, and will only say that we need all the help about these times we can get, an if i thought the lord would only help us lick the rebils, i would free the niggers. an if i thought he would help us by freein 'em, i would do that. in fact, whatever i do, an what--i don't do, i do it, or i don't do it, jest as i think the lord will be most likely to help us. the great thing is to get the help of the lord, an i shall adopt new views on this pint jest as far as i think they are good views." wen linkin got thru, i pulled him by the coat-tail, an ses i, "kernel, seward himself could not have beat that non-committal speech." ses he, "hush, majer, don't throw all the fat into the fire." jest then the feller in the white hankercher spoke up, an ses he, "let us pray," an at it he went. ses he, "oh lord, throw grate lite upon the mind of our chief magustrate--ah--give us victorys over the rebils--ah--give us this yere grate victorys--ah--not such little victories as we had last yere--ah--but crush the rebils with the arm of thy power. amen--ah." after this, they all shuck hands, an went away. after they had gone, ses the kernel, ses he, "majer, that's a wonderful pious chap." "yes," ses i, "kernel, i think he is, in his way, but," ses i, "findin falt with the lord, bekase he don't give us bigger victories, ain't much like the christians of arly days." ses i, "his prayer for big victories reminds me of old joe bunker's prayer. joe was a wicked old sinner who swore wus than a saleyur. one day he was a swarein' kos he didn't hev better corn. some one told him he orter pray for good corn, if he wanted it. so one day some one was goin' long the road by the old feller's corn-field, and hearin' a noise, they stopped, and who should the noise cum from but the miserly old skinflint bunker, who was prayin. ses he, 'oh, lord! give us a good crop of corn this yere, long ears, long as your arm, not sich d--d little nubsbins as we had last yere.' now," ses i, "kernel, i think thar's a great deal of simularity 'tween them two prayers, and i think the lord is jest about as likely to answer one as 'tother." ses i, "kernel, you could bust up fifteen unions easier than you could destroy slavery." ses he, "majer, i don't see into that ezackly, and i'd like to know the reason why." "wal," ses i, "kernel, the reason is jest this: men made the union, but god made slavery, and i tell you," ses i, "kernel, when you undertake to butt agin that, you butt agin a big subjec." ses i, "ain't every body been fightin slavery for the last thirty years, and haven't they all cum off second best, while nigger slavery has been growin' and expandin in spite of 'em? god made the nigger to sarve and obey the white man, and until he's altered and made anuther being, you can't make him enything but a sarvent. these fellers, like that white cravated chap, who was jest here, and who employ their time sendin flannel shirts and tooth-picks to the wild nigger in afriky, don't know nothin' more about niggers than they do 'bout the interior of the arth. you might presarve all the brains they've got in a drop of brandy, and they would have as much sea-room as a tad-pole in lake superior." "wal," ses linkin, ses he, "majer, let's drop the nigger jest now, as i want to ask you whether you think the rebils kin take washington?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, that depends upon strutegy agin. ef you keep ginnerals in the field who don't pay eny attention to 'lines of retrete,' afore you know it, kernel, that feller with a stonewall in his name, will be around on the north side of the white house, an i'm afeered my 'line of retrete' to downingville will be cut off." "that's so, majer, and my retrete to springfield may be a hard road to travel." when linkin made this remark, he looked kinder oneasy. i didn't know what to say, so i did jest what i allers do in that case, i whistled! ses linkin, ses he, "majer, are you whistlin to keep your courage up?" ses i, "no, kernel, i ain't afraid a mite, but," ses i, "i'm in what old deacon doolittle calls a quandary." ses he, "what's your quandary?" "wal," ses i, "i was thinkin what i would do ef the rebils should take washington." the kernel didn't say nothin for about a minute. he looked very serious, and finally, ses he, "majer, we're in a tight place, an there is no use denyin it, but it don't do any good to get into a fit of hysterices about it." "yes," ses i, "kernel, but it makes me feel solem to see this grate old ship of state knockin around, an, may be, jest reddy to sink." "wal, majer," ses the kernel, "that remark reminds me of a story. a good many years ago, an old feller, a free an easy chap, owned a steamboat on the missippi river, an he was a grate fiddler. he had nothing to do, an ginnerally went up an down the river on the boat, spending his time in fiddlin, an tellin stories. one day the boat struck a snag, an was fast fillin with water. the old feller was in the cabin sawin away on his fiddle when the boat struck, but he paid no attenshin to it, but kept rite on fiddlin. finally, one of the passengers came in an told him that the captain warn't tryin to save the boat as he ought, and that she would be lost in ten minutes. 'wal,' ses the old feller, 'she's been a _loosin_ concarn for five years,' and he kept on fiddlin. pretty soon another passenger rushed in, and screamed out 'she's settlin very fast.' ses he, 'i wish she'd _settle_ with me before she goes down,' an still he kept on fiddlin. the next that was seen of him he was swimmin ashore, with his fiddle under his arm an the bow in his mouth. now, majer, if they take washington, and the ship sinks, _we'll swim ashore_!" "yes," ses i, "kernel, and i suppose you will take the nigger with you, jest as that old feller did the fiddle, for the nigger has been the fiddle your party has played on!" the kernel didn't seem to like this application of his story, but he didn't say a word. i felt very solemn, for i couldn't help feelin eenamost like crying when i thought how this grate nashin might all be shipwrecked afore he knew it, by a set of fellers who have been so taken up with the nigger as to let the country go to destruction. i went to bed that nite with a heavy hart, an had a terribul attack of bilyusness, which i had to take nigh onto a gallon of elder-bark tea to cure. sence then i've been better, an if god spares my life i'll keep you posted about our nashinal affairs as long as there is a nashin. your frend, majer jack downing. letter xvii. _a cabinet meeting--the president calls for the opinion of each member--speeches of seward, chase, stanton, blair, welles, smith and bates--the major called on for an opinion--the peperage log story--the majer oposes an armistice--no conclusion arrived at._ washington, sept. 13th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--sech a time as we've had here sence i writ you last, you never heered tell on. one time we all thought that the secesh would take us, bag and baggage; but we feel easier now, an everybody is hopin that the crysis is past. rite in the midst of the tribbelation, linkin called a meetin of the cabynet to consult on the tryin state of affairs, an he insisted that i must meet with 'em, as it was no time to stand on precidents an _ceterys_, an beside, he sed he wanted the help of every ounce of loyal brains in the country. ses he, "majer, i kin depend on you, for though you sometimes give me a hard hit, yet you've allers got the good of your country at hart." ses i, "kernel, i'm much obleeged to you for your good opinion, an i kin assure you that every word of it is true. ef there's a man on this arth that has a truer love for his country than i have, i would like to see him;" an ses i, "kernel, i'll tell you why my country seems so dear to me. i'm an old man now, nigh on eighty years old; i recollect when jefferson beat that old federal, john adams, in 1800. i warn't old enough then to vote for him, though i wanted to; but wen he run the second time i voted for him, an done all i could for his election. wal, i've been a dimmecrat from that day rite down to the old ginneral's time, an i'm a dimmecrat yit; but i love my country above all parties. an one reason why my country is so dear to me is, because i haven't got enything else to love now. nigh about all my relashins are dead an gone, an there ain't enything on arth left me to love but my country; an wen i see it distracted, divided an bleedin, it makes me cry; an," ses i, "kernel, i can't help it." "wal," ses the kernel, "majer, it's oncommon hard for old men like you, i know; but you jest meet with the cabynet this mornin, an let us see ef some new plan can't be adopted to get out of this scrape." so wen the time cum, i took my hickery, an went in. purty soon the different members cum droppin in, one by one, an all seemed highly tickled to see me except seward, who has never forgiven me for exposin his decepshin on linkin wen he altered my "constitushinal teliskope." after they all got seated, ses linkin, ses he, "gentlemen, there's no use eny longer of doin like the ostrich does--stick our heads in a sandbank an say that we 'don't see it,' for we're whipped an driven back--in a word, we have failed. now, the rale question is, why have we failed? what is the cause of it? jest as soon as we kin find out the reason of our failure, we shall know what to do to remedy it. now," ses the kernel, "i want every one of you to give me your frank, blunt opinion as to the reason. first, i will call on mr. seward." seward got up, lookin as pale as a sheet, an ses he, "wal, it ain't my fault. i've paid no attenshin to the war, but have had my hands full in keepin furrin nashins from interferin, an i've succeeded; but ef i should give my opinion of the cause of the failure of our efforts to restore the union, i would say it was owin entirely to the ultra-republicans, who wanted to kill slavery before they scotched it. this let the cat out of our bag before the rite time. it aroused an united the south an divided the north. they saw what we were after. ef my policy had been followed of pacifyin the south an of talkin 'union' to the north, we would have scotched the snake of slavery, an then we could have killed it at our leisure." then linkin called chase. he commenced by saying that he did not agree with mr. seward as to the cause of our failure. he sed it was jest this dilly-dally policy that had ruined us. congress had done its duty, but the president had not yet dared to make the rebils feel the power of congress. he sed he had kept the army supplied with "greenbacks," an that was all he had to do. he had done his duty, but he didn't beleeve we would ever succeed until we fit for liberty an the overthrow of slavery. we should allers fail to restore the union until we did it. then stantin spoke. he sed "he thought one grate cause of our failure was because he had not kept on issooing his proclamashins, as he did at first. he sed he thought his proclamashin about 'the sperit of the lord' enabled our soldiers to take nashville. then," ses he, "ginneral mcclellan is too slow. he might have been made for a ralerode engineer, where there was no hurry about buildin the road, but he was never cut out for a ginneral. he was a failure, and hence it wos a failure all round." then blair spoke up. "wal," ses he, "ef there's a man done his dooty, it's me. i've stopped every paper in the mails that wouldn't endorse the policy of the administrashin; hence the people have only seen arguments on one side. ef we've failed, therefore, it can't be because the people's readin hasn't been well looked after. i haven't allowed their minds to be pisened by eny 'copper-head' dimmocratic doctrines. nothin but anti-slavery sentiments kin get through the mails now. ef we've failed, i think it must be because seward and stantin have not been more strict in arrestin men who talked----" here seward an stantin both jumped up an declared that blair was very onjust, an sed they had arrested every man they could get anything agin, an a good menny that they couldn't get anything agin. wal, blair sed, "enyhow, the failure was not his fault. ef they didn't beleeve him, let them ask his father, who knew more about politics than eny other man in the country!" [illustration: "seward an' stantin both jumped up an' declared that blair was very onjust."--page 154.] then old welles got up, looking very sleepy. he sed "the failure could not be charged agin the navy. it was the most wide-awake institushin of the age. it had achieved _all_ the victories." [here stantin jumped up agin, but welles wouldn't yield the floor.] "the army couldn't do anything without his gunboats. every time the rebils got at them, they had had to retrete to _his_ gunboats. in his opinion the army had failed, because it could not carry his gunboats with it. he sed he had been try in to invent a plan to furnish each regiment with a gunboat for land service. ef he could do that, he thought richmond might be taken early next spring! the only thing in all the war that had not been a failure were his gunboats!" then mr. smith, an old man from out west, got up. he sed "he belonged to the interior, and didn't know much about what was goin on. he had heered say there was a war in progress, and that there had been some pretty tall fightin, but he didn't know whether it had been a success or a failure. ef we had failed, he thought it must be because we had not been successful, an ef we had succeeded, he thought it must be because we hadn't failed!" mr. bates sed "he agreed with mr. smith, except in one pint. he had heerd, within a day or two, for the first time, that we had failed. upon lookin over blackstun to see ef there was eny case like it, he had been much disappinted in not findin eny. he thought we must have failed because we had not follered blackstun." after he got thru, linkin called upon me. i jest hauled up my old hickery and laid it on the tabil, an then puttin my elbows on the tabil to rest myself, i began. ses i, "kernel, i feel kinder scary to giv my opinion rite here, after sech a display of larnin an eloquince; but," ses i, "as i understand the questshin, it is this: we've been fightin to restore the union, an we've failed. now, what is the cause of the failure?" ses i, "is that it, kernel?" ses he, "yes, majer; that's it, exactly." "wal," ses i, "i allers want to get on the track afore i start, an then i kin tell purty nigh where i will fetch up. now," ses i, "kernel, i want to ask you a questshin: _did you ever try to split a peperage log!_" "no," ses he, "majer, i never did. nobody would be sech a consarned fool as to try an split a peperage log." "wal," ses i, "kernel, suppose some feller should cum to you an tell you that he had been a year an a half tryin to split a peperage log, an couldn't do it, that he had failed, an wanted you to tell him what to do, what would you say to him?"--"say to him!--why, i should tell him he might jest as well whistle at the log as to try to split it--that it warn't in the natur of sech knotty, nerly, cross-grained timber to split; in other words, that he was tryin to do an onpossibul thing." "now," ses i, "kernel, that's jest my idee about tryin to save this union by fightin! you're tryin to do an onpossibul thing. after a year an a half of fightin, you all acknowledge that you have failed, an all the cabynet is wonderin why you have failed. now, it ain't no wonder to me. you have failed jest because, in the very natur of things, what you are tryin to do can't be done in that way. you're takin the rong way to do it." wen i sed this, you never did see sech a flutter. stantin turned very red in the face, and sed "that i orter be sent to fort lafayette." i telled him that i wasn't afeered of all the forts this side of purgotary, and that i should speak my mind till my dyin day, let what would happen. that cooled him down. then i told the cabynet that the only way to get out of this scrape was to have an armistiss, stop the fightin, and go to talkin--that both sides had had enuf of bloodshed now to satisfy them, an that the only way to get at a settlement was to do that. they took a vote on it, an all voted for it except linkin, chase and welles. the kernel sed he was so committed to the abolishin governors of the north, that he couldn't go for the armistiss. chase sed, "ef it comes to that, then all the money has been spent for nothin, an i shall be cussed for the debt forever an ever." old welles sed that he thought we should be successful jest as soon as he got his new patent land gunboats in operashin, an he was for fightin the thing out! the other members of the cabynet sed they thought they could back out without much trubbel. seward sed he never see a hole so small that he couldn't, on a pinch, get through, especially with weed to help him. he thought he should turn dimmocrat! stantin sed he intended to jine the church, and turn methodist precher. blair sed he didn't know what he should do till he consulted his father! he knew the old man could help him out. smith an bates sed they should return to the buzzum of their families, an, if necessary for their safety, put on krinoline! no conclusion, however, was cum to about the armistiss. the kernel can't bring himself up to the idee yet. ef the governors were only in favor of it, he should do it at once. so i suppose, for the present, we shall keep on tryin to do an onpossibul thing--to git the union by fightin for it. depend upon it, tryin to split peperage logs ain't nothin to it. yours till deth, major jack downing. letter xviii. _the major not ill--the president has "the gripes"--the witch-hazel medicine--going to the bottom of a subject--the democrats and the war--the emancipation proclamation--a visit to gen. mcclellan's army--the soldiers cool--mr. lincoln tells a story--"sloshing about."_ washington, oct. 6th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--i see you sed in your paper, last week, that perhaps i had the rheumatiz, and that that was the resin why i had not writ you. now, you were dredfully mistaken, for i aint had a twinge of the rheumatics for a long time. the resin i did not write last week was jest this: rite off, after linkin had issooed that abolishin proclymashin, he was taken with a terribul fit of the gripes. there was noos received that some of the sojers were gettin onruly, and refusin to fight for the nigger, an i thought one spell that the kernel would go crazy. he walked the floor all nite, an looked as ef he would die. finerally it brought on the gripes, an then his condishin was terribul. i tried elder bark tea, but it didn't do a mite of good, so i telled him there warn't but one medicin that would cure him, an that was witch hazel sticks mixed up with molasses. so i sent fur some twigs an cut em up in about inch pieces, and put the molasses on, an stirred it all up. the kernel looked at it very sharp, an ses he, "majer, you aint going to give me rale fence to drink, are you? the remedy will be wus than the disease." "wal," ses i, "kernel, then that will be jest like your abolishin proclymashin," an i kept on mixin it with a big spoon. "now," ses i, "kernel, the good pints of this medicin are, that as it goes thru a feller it cleans him completely out. it confiscates, eradicates, obliterates an conflusticates everything. it's equal to your abolishin proclymashin an the confiscashin bill rolled into one." ses i, "kernel, there's only one thing about it that's wrong. sometimes the sticks get twisted together, or tangled up like the logs comin down the river, in maine in the spring of the year, and it requires a purty hard jar to start 'em loose. but," ses i, "there's no danger of it's killin anybody, and there's no way for you to get rid of that gripin but by takin it." the kernel looked at it purty sharp, an ses he, "majer, i can't stand this innard arthquake much longer, an ef you say that that rale fence will cure me, i'll swallow it ef it takes the har off my hed." so i jest told him to take it, an down he put it as easy as ef it had ben geniwine borbone. he hadn't had it down but a little while before he began to get wus. he walked the floor an groaned as ef he was goin to die. ses he, "majer, this infernal stuff will kill me, sure. i believe i've swallowed a dose of pitchfork tines, or a half-pint of darnin needles. it reminds me of a story, majer, but i feel too bad to tell it. it's the very first time in my life i was ever so far gone." i see at a glance what was the matter. the sticks had got tangled together, an lodged fast, an i knew there was no time to be lost. so ses i, "kernel, i kin cure you. you jest cum here an sit down in this cheer." he cum up, and wen he went to set down, i jerked the cheer rite out from under him, an down he cum kerslap on the floor. i tell you it made the hull house shake; but i knowed he must get a good jar, or it was a gone case with him. it made him see stars for a little while, for the kernel, you know, is long-geared, an it was no jokin matter for him to fall so far. but it was all over within a minnet, an wen he got up he sed he felt like another man; but, ses he, "majer, that's what i call goin to the bottom of a subject." "wal," ses i, "kernel, that's jest what you are tryin to do on the slavery questshin, an ef you don't see stars on that before you get thru with it, i'll wonder." ses i, "kernel, do you expect dimmicrats are goin to support you on freein the niggers?" "wal," ses he, "majer, not the rale, geniwine dimmicrats; but you see you've got a grate lot of fellers in your party who call themselves dimmicrats, who aint dimmicrats at all. you've had the offices in your party so long, that you've naterally attracted a hull lot of chaps who only want offices. these fellers have mostly been the leaders of your party for years an years, an now, wen we've got the offices, an there aint scarcely a chance that the south will ever have eny more to give 'em, they all cum to us, an i kin get 'em at almost eny price, from a brigadier-generalship down to a quarter of a dollar. i've tried to git some geniwine dimmicrats to mix in, but you can't touch em." ses i, "kernel, i guess you'll find that the grate bulk of the dimmicrats won't fite to free the niggers. they can't be sech a pack of derned fools." "you've got too high an opinion of your party, majer," ses the kernel. "there's a grate menny more derned fools in it than you've got eny idee of. you say they won't fite to put down slavery. didn't they say they wouldn't fite to coerce the south? and didn't they do it? didn't they say they would only defend the capital, and wouldn't invade virginia, and didn't they do it?" [illustration: "majer, that is what i call goin' to the bottom of a subject."--page 161.] "yes," ses i, "kernel, i must own that's the truth; but," ses i, "they called god to witness ef the war was ever made an anti-slavery war, they would throw down their arms." "yes," ses he, "but don't they say now that they aint got nothing to do with the policy of the government, an that their only duty is to fite." "wal," ses i, "kernel, sum of 'em have sed that, but it can't be possibul that that's the gineral sentiment. ef they follow that principul, then ef you should proclaim yourself emperor or king, an tell 'em to fite to establish a monarchy, they would do that." "that's drivin your idees a little too far, majer, as you ginnerally do. but what do you think about our goin up to the army an reviewin the sojers, and seein whether i aint jest as popelar as ever i was?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i think that that is a good idee, an i kin judge purty nigh how your proclymashin sets on the stumacks of the sojers from the way they cheer you. ef they cheer as loud as they did wen they were down at harrisin landin, i shall be mistaken." so we started off the next day for ginneral mcclellan's head-quarters in a speshal train. first we went to ginneral sumnure's head-quarters, and it warn't long afore ginneral mcclellan cum there. too. there was sum talk about the proclymashin, an linkin told the ginneral that there were two great resins why he had made it. one was to stop furrin nashins from interferin, an the other was to make the rebils cum to terms. he thought it would feteh 'em, sure. ginneral mcclellan didn' say a word, one way nor tother, but looked oncommon solemn, and axed the kernel whether he didn't want to revew the troops. i saw at once that the ginneral didn't like it, and that he wanted to turn the subject. then we started off and took a look at the troops on merryland hights and bollyvare hights, and all around mr. harper's ferry. mr. harper warn't hum, and so we didn't see him, and the ferry warn't in good order nether, the resen bein that the rebils had been there and destroyed eenamost everything. as we were goin along, ses i, "kernel, them cheers don't sound like they did down on the jeemes river." the kernel didn't say enything, but looked very serious. wen ginneral mcclellan showed himself, you oughter have heerd the sojers yell and scream, and wave their hats. i never see the kernel look so pale and thin, and i couldn't get a word out of him. as for makin a speech, it warn't to be thought on. after we got all done reviewin the sojers, the kernel and all hands of us come down from the hights, and sot down near the road on an old wagin. linkin told some stories to pass away the time, an purty soon we went back to ginneral somnure's head-quarters, where we staid all nite. the next mornin we went to ginneral mcclellan's head-quarters, an then over the battle field of auntyeatem. the next day we cum hum, both of us purty nigh tired out. the kernel pulled off his boots as soon as he got in the house, as he almost allus does, an i got out my pipe for a smoke. "wal," ses i, "kernel, what do you think of your visit?" ses he, "majer, it's jest as you told me. that proclymashin of mine ain't popular, and i knowed it wouldn't be. but jest see how i was situated. there was the abolishin guvernurs drivin me on one side, an ther was france an england on the other side. what was i to do? i couldn't stand still. i couldn't go back. so i had to 'let her rip.' i've ben poleing around, majer, ever sence i've been president, trying to touch bottom, an i couldn't find it. now i hope i'll git it." "yes," ses i, "kernel, but may be your pole warnt a constitutional pole. ef it had ben, you would hev found bottom long ago." ses i, "depend on it, kernel, there ain't no bottom where you are poleing, and ef you keep on till doomsday, you won't find eny." ses i, "kernel, don't you know that you said in your inaugerole that you had no rite to interfere with slavery, an that you didn't intend to?" ses he, "did i, majer? i've forgot all about it. the truth is, majer, when i look back the two years i've been president, it reminds me of a story:--old bill jones got drunk one election day, out in illinoy, an had a hand in several fites before nite. the next day he was brought up before a justess of the peace, an the justess inquired, 'mr. jones, did you strike tom smith yesterday?' 'wal, i don't know, judge,' ses bill, 'i was sloshin around considerabul, an can't exzactly say what i did.' 'wal, mr. jones, did you hit jim wattles?' 'wal, now, judge, i can't be sartin; the truth is, i was _sloshin_ around most of the day, i reckon.' 'now, mr. jones, tell me whether you struck dick robinson?' 'can't say, judge,' replied bill. 'i believe, on the hull, i was _sloshin_ around about _all_ day.' 'wal, mr. jones,' said the justess, 'what do you mean by "sloshin around?"' 'wal, judge,' said bill, '"_sloshin around_" is jest going rite thru a crowd, an mowin your swath, hitten rite an left everybody you meet slap over the face an eyes.' now, the truth is, majer, i've been 'sloshin around' sence i've been president, hittin in the dark, an not knowin exzacly where i struck. this proclymashin of mine is a hit in the dark, but as i am the first anti-slavery president, i've got to mark out a new track, an hence do as old bill jones did, keep 'sloshin around.'" "wall," ses i, "kernel, that's resky business, an ef you don't 'slosh' once too often, it will be a wonder. but," ses i, "kernel, i'me terribul tired after this trip, an what do you say to havin a little old rye before we go to bed?"--"that's jest what i was thinkin of, majer." the kernel then told the feller in bad close, who does chores for us, to get us some, an we both tuk a good swig of genewine rye-juice, an went to bed. i was eenamost tuckered out, but this mornin i feel nigh about as good as ever agin. yours till deth, majer jack downing. letter xix. _the president nervous--the state elections--mr. lincoln astonished --he takes cordial--mr. seward turns democrat--the major tells a story--mr. seward and the major take a drink--how john van buren got gen. scott's letter--mr. stanton on the elections._ washington, oct. 20th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs: wal, the kernel has ben sick agin. it is astonishin how littel takes him down now-a-days. his constitushin seems to be eenamost clean gone. old rye don't do much good, an i've tried all sorts of medicin, but nothin seems to work well. this time his narves were terribly worked up, an he was so fidgety, that i koncluded to try godfrey's cordial. this cooled him down a dood deal, and but not until he tuk nigh unto four or five bottles full. the cause of all this flutter was the recent elecshins in ohio, indiany an pennsylvany. the kernel had been told by sumnure, greeley an andrews that the only way to carry the elecshins this fall, was to issoo an emancipashun proclamashun; that if he didn't do it, the party would be completely whipped out in every state. so he koncluded to try it, but wen the returns cum in, you never did see such a woe-begone lookin man. one nite he heerd sum bad news from ohio, an gettin up in his nite gown, he cum to my room and axed what i thought about it. i struck a light an got out my slate. the kernel had greeley's last year's almanac in his hands. ses he, "majer, let's go down to the telegraf offis, and see how the majorities run, an we can be able to give a guess that will cum as nigh to it as the jump of a rabbit." so i jist put on my duds, an off we went. the news cum in thick an fast, an as the feller at the telegraf read off the figgers, i put 'em down on my slate, an the kernel compared them with his own majorities in greeley's primer. i see he was turnin all sorts of colors, an finally, ses he, "majer, we are gone jist as kompletely as if we were up salt river now, instead of bein here. i'de jest like to swap places with sum hoss-jockey, an go into the hoss contract line." ses he, "majer, let's go hum. i've seen all of this elephant that i want to." so he crammed his coat-tail pocket full of despatches, an off we started. when he got hum, ses he, "majer, my administrashin is the biggest failyure that ever tuk place in the history of this or eny other country. i now see that jest as plain as i see that bottle of old rye there. i've listened to those infernal fools, sumnure an greeley, an a pretty scrape they have got me in." ses i, "kernel, it ain't my natur to hit a man wen he is down, or to hurt anybody's feelins by referrin to the past. but," ses i, "don't you rekollect the story about 'applyin the principle?'" ses he, "yes, i do; i recollect it well." "wal," ses i, "now see the _result_ of 'applyin the principle.' i told you then that you'd get scorched wus than zenas humspun did in meddlin with the telegraf, if you undertook to carry out the principle of abolishun, but you sed the thing must tech the bottom, an you was bound to put it through. now, you see, the people don't support you. they don't want niggers made equal to white men, nor they don't want 'em freed to be a tax on 'em. a few fellers like greeley, whose brains all seem to run to bran-bread, an free luv, or some other moonstruck nonsense, an some larned fools like sumnure, want to try the experiment, but they don't represent the people. so you see, kernel, that in applyin the principle you have kicked yourself over, an i only menshin it to show you that if he had followed my advice you would not have had these grate defeats to mourn over." the kernel looked very solem, an ses he, "majer, i know i'd been a great deal better off if i'd followed your advice all through these trubbils, but you see i had to go with my party, and if it had carried me to the other side of jordon, i s'pose i should have gone with it." that nite i thought the kernel would go into spasms, he was so nervous. i got some hot water, an soaked his feet in it, rubbed his bowels with brandy, an laid flannel on 'em, an bathed his temples in camfire an rum. but he grew wus all the time. finally, i began to pore the cordial down him, an then he commenced to revive. but he didn't sleep scacely a wink all nite. in the mornin he was the most limpsy piece of mankind i ever did see. i ralely believe he might have been tied in a knot like an eel, he was so limber. jest a little while after breakfast, who should come in but seward? he hadn't hardly spoken to me sence i blowed him for alterin the kernel's constitushinal teliskope, but this mornin he was as perlite an as clever as he could be. ses he, "majer, the elecshin news is good, an _our_ party is successful." ses i, "mr. seward, i don't understand you." "why, majer," ses he--and he put on one of the queerest smiles i ever see on a man's face--"don't you know i have turned dimmocrat?" ses i, "you don't say so." "yes," ses he, "i'm a dimmocrat now, an no mistake." the kernel looked as if thunder had struck him. "wal," ses i, "mr. seward, that reminds me of a story, as the kernel would say." "wal," ses he, "majer, what is it? i always like to hear your stories. they are so pat." "wal," ses i, "mebby this will turn out to be a little patter than you like; but, howsoever, as i never spile a good story for acquaintance sake, i will tell it. once on a time, it is said, an old coon went out of a night to get some fodder among the cornfields, an did not return to his hole until near mornin. wen he got hum he saw a skunk had taken possession of his hole. he went up, an ses he, 'who's there?' the skunk replied, 'a coon.' 'are you a coon?' 'yes,' said the skunk, 'i'm a coon.' 'wal,' sed the coon, 'you don't look like a coon; you don't act like a coon, and i'll be darned ef you _smell_ like a coon.'" "now," ses i, "mr. seward, you may be a dimmocrat, but you don't look like one, nor act like one, nor smell like one, an i'll be darned ef i believe you are one." ses he, "majer, you are rather personal." "wal," ses i, "i don't mean any offence, an," ses i, "if you really mean to be a dimmocrat, let's take a drink of old rye over the victories in ohio, pennsylvany and indiany." so he cum up an we both took a good swig of wiskey. the kernel looked at us an grit his teeth. "wal," ses he, "ef you are goin to rejoice in my defeat, i'll go over an call on stantin, an see ef he can't cheer me up." so the kernel went off. after he'd gone, seward an i tuk another nip of the old rye, an purty soon we tasted of it agin. the seckretary is a capital drinker, an he knows what good licker is as well as eny feller i ever see. finally he got in a very good humer, an ses he, "majer, we've been bad friends long enough." so he actually hugged me, and sed there warn't a man that ever lived that he loved so much as the old ginneral, an next to him his friend majer downing. wen i thought i'd got him in a good humer an he was very talkative, ses i, "mr. seckretary, kin you tell me how john van buren got that letter of ginneral scott's?" ses he, "yes, majer, i kin. you know i don't want that feller wadswurth elected, for he's my bitter political inemy; so the way the letter got out was this:--weed, you know, is my chum. now, we have an understandin that everything that i can't tell him i put in my right hand coat-tail pocket. you see then i can deny that i made it public. that pocket is weed's pocket, an he always goes to it for secrets. wal, i put the letter in that pocket, an weed got it from there. weed also has just such a pocket. all smart politishins have such a pocket. now, weed's chum is ben welch, commissary ginneral, an ben got it out of weed's pocket. now, john has long been a chum of ben's, an he got it out of ben's pocket. that's the way that this letter got out, that there is so much mystery about." rite off after this the kernel came in, an we had to drop the conversashin, for seward gave me the wink as much as to say that he didn't want linkin to know everything about it. then i asked the kernel what stantin sed. he sed stantin was in favor of issooing a proclamashin, over the grate victories of the administrashin in ohio, indiany, pennsylvany an iway. he sed the people didn't put any faith in newspapers any more, an a proclamashin declarin that the elecshins had all gone favorabul would be believed without winkin. stantin thinks there ain't nothin so powerful as a proclamashin. seward said afore it was done, the cabbynet had better be called together. here the matter dropped, an as the kernel looked uncommon blue, i left him to his own reflecshins, an went up-stairs to my room. yours till deth, majer jack downing. letter xx. _the new york election--mr. lincoln tells a story--cannot do justice to the subject--mr. lincoln feels bad--the major amuses him by a joke--how to get up a message--keeping a party together--the excelsior political prepared glue--the different stripes of abolitionists-boating on the mississippi river--poleing along._ washington, nov. 10th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ i expect you were very much surprised in not gettin a letter from me last week, but the truth is, i got one partly writ jest as the news of the elecshins in new york an jersey cum in, an i should have finished it an sent it on ef the kernel had not been taken down sick so sudden. wen the rumor fust cum that york city had gone over thirty thousand for seemore, an that fernandow an ben. wood an jeemes brooks had been elected to congriss, the kernel didn't say a word, but looked as ef he'd drop down thru the floor. i didn't like to speak fust, but i see the kernel warn't going to, an so ses i, "how do you feel, mr. presidint?" "wal," ses he, "majer, i'll tell you a story. a good meny years ago there lived in lower kentuck an old feller named josh miller. now, it was ginerally reckoned in that part of the country that old josh could out-swear eny feller that ever lived. josh was a kind of gineral teamster, an had a two-hoss wagon with which he did chores for everybody round the village. one day he had on a load of ashes, an was goin up a steep hill, sittin on the fore part of his wagon. wen about half way up the hind-board of his wagon cum out, an old josh not lookin round, nigh about all the ashes jarred out, so wen he got to the top of the hill he didn't have a pan full left. he stopped his hosses, however, an got out, an a hull lot of fellers, who knew the ability of old josh in the swearin line, gathered around expecting to here the tallest kind of strong words. the old feller looked fust at his wagon an then at the ashes all strewed along the road, an finally ses he, 'boys, there's no use in tryin--_i can't do jestice to the subject_.' an now, majer," ses the kernel, "that jest my condition now--i can't do jestice to the subject, an i don't feel like talkin; in fact, i _can't_ talk." i see the kernel felt very bad, an ef he couldn't talk nor tell stories, i didn't know wat on arth might happen. i was afeered he would get so full that sumthin like the dropsy would set in. an sure enuf, that nite not a word did he speak, nor a story did he tell. the consekence was, he began to swell an bloat like a mad porkepine. i see at once that i must turn doctor agin, or there was no tellin how soon he might kick the bucket. he was growin wus fast, actually beginnin to look _blue_. so ses i, "kernel, there's no help for it; you must be tapped!" "tapped!" ses he, "majer, tapped! there warn't enything ever _tapped_ in my house that lasted more that a week. oh no! i ain't reddy to die yet." i see the "rulin pashin was strong in deth," jest as the poet's say; but as soon as i got a joke out of him, i knew that he would survive. so thinks i to myself, i'll see ef i can fetch him to by another joke; so ses i, "kernel, suppose 'tappin' should kill you, you would go to a _world of spirits_!" wen i said this, he jumped rite up out of his chair, laughin, an takin me by the hand, ses he, "majer, you are the best frend i've got. wen i'm sick you doctor me, an wen i'm down spereted you jest joke me rite out of the dumps." ses he, "majer, i've a good mind to make you commander-in-cheef of the army." "no, no," ses i, "kernel, don't do that, for i should think you had sumthin agin me, an wanted to hand me over to the abolishinists to be punished!" the kernel and i have also been bizzy sence i wrote you last in getting up the next message. he has been ritin his ideas on little slips of paper about two inches wide, as they have happened to pop in his head, an then submitten 'em to me to sort of polish up. the kernel ses that ritin a message is a good deal like gettin out timber for a barn in the woods. fust, you want the sills, then the posts, then the girders, then the plates, an finally the rafters. we ain't got the sills fairly hewed out and squared yit. the truth is, the kernel is kinder worried as to how exactly to lay the foundashin. wilson, who is now here, ses the sills must be of abolishin timber, and no mistake. i telled the kernel that sich stuff was the poorest kind of bass-wood, an wouldn't stand nohow. then he thought of puttin in a mixture of abolishin timber an sum constitutional saw-logs, but i telled him that that would make it so cross-grained that it wouldn't bear eny weight at all, an by the time we got the rafters on it would all smash down in a pile. "wal," ses he, "majer, i must do sumthin to keep my party together. i must contrive sum sort of a mixture that won't look too much abolishin, an yet that won't drive off the old, genewine friends of freedom." "wal," ses i, "i don't think your party kin hold together much longer, enyhow. it seems to me it is mity nigh now fallen to pieces, an it won't take much longer to knock it into so menny pieces that you can't no more putty 'em together than you can find the tail of a rainbow." "wal," ses the kernel, "majer, don't you think i've done well in keepin it together as long as i have?" ses i, "yes, kernel, ef there's a feller in this country that ought to git out a patent for 'excelsior political prepared glue,' it is you. you've kept together the most cross-grained, knotty, knerly lot of political timber that ever was made up into eny political party." ses i, "there's the greeley stripe. now, it's enuf to give any party the dyspepsy to have such a set of bran-bread, free-luv, long-haired set of fellers in it. an ther's gerrit smith an his stripe, a kind of maroon-colored, mongrel breed of politicians, sumthin like a cross between a jamacy nigger an an esquimaw; an then ther's wendell phillips an old garrison, sort of abolishin alligators; an fineally you've got a sort of half-an-half fellers in your party who try to be conservative, who quote blackstun and the law dicschinnaries, an set great stress upon being very moderate. now, how you've contrived, kernel, to keep all these different ingredients together is a mystery." "wal, majer, ef i hadn't larn't sumthin about boatin on the mississippi river, wen i was young, i don't believe i would ever have been able to steer the ship of state at all." "why," ses i, "how is that?" "wal," ses he, "goin up the mississippi river is a good deal like being presidint. sumtimes you have to go one way and sumtimes another. sumtimes you go slam rite in one bank an sumtimes in t'other, and then it ain't at all oncommon to get on a sand-bar, an lay there no one can tell how long. now, majer, that's a good deal like being presidint, an you see i've kept my party together by jest goin first one way an then t'other. wen the abolishin tide cum along strong, i'de jest let the vessel foller the current, go with it, an wen she struck the other shore, of course, it would take another tack. sumtimes, when all hands got a quarrelin, i jest let her rip rite on a sand-bar, and there let her lay until i made 'em settle their disputes. but, i tell you, majer, there's one that has been the best of all to keep my party together. wen they've got purty mutinous, i've threatened to discharge all hands an get a new set. then you ought to see how soon they stop quarrelin. ther's nothin they so much dred as to lose the offices. take away the cow that gives the milk, an they would all blat jest like weaned calves. so wen i stop the ship an tell them that i'm goin to clear the deck an put on a new crew, i tell you they are as whist as mice. so you see, i go poleing along. first this way, then that, jest like goin up the mississippi river, for all the world." "wal," ses i, "kernel, that seems to me a rather hap-hazard, no-policy way of bein presidint. it ain't statesmanlike." "wal, majer, mebby it is and mebby it ain't; but i'm goin to make things shake now, sence the elecshins are over. things have got to be more lively." i didn't say nothin, for i see the kernel was gettin his back up. at last, ses i, "kernel, have you tried eny of that old rye lately?" ses he, "no, majer, i ain't, but i feel like wettin my gills to-nite. how do you feel?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, a little good whiskey never goes agin the grain." at that the kernel sent for the feller who does chores, an we both took a swig. wen i thought he was in purty good humor, ses i, "kernel, why did you remove mcclellin?" ses he, "majer, i can't tell you now, but jest recollect my story about 'polein around,' an gettin in 'abolishin currents,' an you kin guess." i sed nothin, for i see the kernel was very mum, so i bid him good-nite, and slept as sound on that old rye as i ever did wen i was a boy. the kernel is famous for good whiskey, anyhow. yours, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxi. _the message--a cabinet council--speeches of seward, chase, stanton, welles, blair and bates--mr. lincoln tells a story--the major gives his opinion--mr. chase accuses him of disloyalty--the major demands a retraction--it is given._ washington, nov. 22, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--wal, the messige ain't done yet. the kernel keeps tinkerin at it a little every day. i tell him he is jest like a cooper hammerin at a barrel. he keeps poundin away, an when he gits thru, he is rite around jest where he started from. the other day i telled the kernel that it mite hurry up matters by havin a cabinet council, and perhaps by gettin all heds together we mite git the messige in sum sort of shape. congress would meet afore long, an there was no time to loose. the kernel sed he thought that would be a good idee, an so one was called. the kernel insisted that i should be present, though i didn't much want to be, sence i knew how seward was trying to play the conservative and turn dimmycrat. howsoever, i determined to go but to say nothin. the kernel opened the ball by tellin all hands how that he an the majer had been to work at the messige for some weeks, off an on, like farmers sortin their corn, but they couldn't git the docyment into ship-shape exactly, an hence he had called 'em together to hear their opinions on the subject, an to larn how each department, stood. he sed he wanted to tech on all subjects, an fust he would ask mr. seward about our furrin affairs. seward got up, lookin very pale, an the fust thing he sed was, that he believed seemore was elected guvernor of new york. mr. chase wanted to know "what that had to do with foreign affairs, but," ses he, an here he looked very knowin, "perhaps mr. seward kin tell how seemore cum to be elected?" at this seward brushed up an asked him "what he meant?" "wal," ses he, "i mean jest this, that if you an weed had not thrown cold water on wadsworth, seemore would never have been elected." "that's false," ses seward, an chase jumped up as if he was goin to do sumthin, but the kernel at once interfered, an sed that he didn't send for 'em to quarrel about the elecshins, which were bad enough, lord knows, but he wanted to know how the furrin affairs stood. seward sed, "that, comin to the pint, furrin affairs never looked better. we were at peace with all the world, an he didn't doubt but with the aid of his friend weed, and a liberal use of secret service money, he would be able to keep the peace. he sed it looked now as if, in sixty days, that all idee of furrin intervenshin for the rebils would be given up, an then the rebelyun would be smashed at once." then the kernel asked mr. chase how the financies stood. wal, chase sed that everything was working splendid; that only the other day he got a loan in wall street above par; that everything was risin in price, an that the people was tickled to deth with the good-lookin notes he got out; that they liked 'em so well, an they were so much handier than gold an silver, that they didn't use enything else lately. he sed he thought he was going to be set down as the greatest financier since the days of liecurgus, who made money out of iron, an thus made all the people rich at once. he said that he would make 'em all rich, ef paper didn't get too high, an there was some danger of it, as the pesky rebils had all the cotton to make it of. jest get that, an he would snap his fingers at the hull world. then stantin got up. he sed everything was now progressin finely sence the ralerode sooperintendent had been discharged. he didn't doubt but burnside would be in richmond by the time congress met, an he thought it was so sure, that he advised linkin to put it in his message at once. he sed his idee was, as soon as richmond was taken, to issoo a proclamashin appointing a day of thanksgiv'n an prayer for our victory over the rebils. he sed, ef his plans had been followed, we would have been in the rebil capital long ago, but it was all rite now, and no one need have eny fears. then grandfather welles spoke. he sed mr. stantin seemed to think that the army was goin to do all, but he could tell him that he would find that his gunboats were to play a big part. he had been all summer buildin a hull lot of iron-plated monsters, an ef the war didn't cum to an end too soon, they would make the fur fly. at all events, they would be reddy to celebrate peace, which would be somethin. for his part, he didn't think the war was nigh ended; yet in fact, he didn't see how it could end until all the contracts were finished. it would'nt do to disappint so many good members of the party, who hadn't yet had their turn buyin vessels on commission, or makin gunboats. then mr. blair got up, lookin as if he thought that wisdom would surely die when he did. he sed he reckoned that the country was safe. he sed he had kept a pretty close watch on the newspapers to see ef eny of them opposed the war or advocated slavery. he thought that the people never had had sich advantages in the post-office as they had had sence he was postmaster-gineral. the people, he sed, used to have to pick out the papers they wanted to take themselves, now he did it for 'em. he sed he thought he knew best, too, what was good for them, for his father was an editor a good meny years, an when he needed informashin he allers called on the old man! when blair sot down, the kernel called upon mr. bates, but he had gone to sleep, so they skipped him and called upon mr. smith. he sed that the interior department was in a flourishin condishin, but he hed lately heered that the loco focos had agin carried indianny, and it had so worried him as to give him the tooth-ache. ef they wanted to know anythin more about this department, he would ask his chief clark. here the kernel asked seward ef he wouldn't wake up mr. bates. seward jest walked up, tuk his finger and thumb and pinched the old man's nose. as he was breathin very hard thru it, he jumped up as ef he had ben pricked with a pin. ses he, "have the rebils took saint lewis?" seward telled him that this was a cabbynet council. "aye," ses he, "what's up?" "wal," ses linkin, "we want to know the condishin of your department?" ses he, "i ain't a military ginneral, an ain't got command of no department!" the old man warn't fairly awake yet; ses seward, ses he, "i guess i'll have to give him another pinch." "now," ses the kernel, "that reminds me of a story. an old dominy down in connecticut used to have a very sleepy congregashin. one day, wen a good many were asleep, he stopped rite in the middle of his sermon, and called out, 'deacon giles, sing the 119th psalm, to the tune of old hundred.' the deacon commenced and sung one verse. wen he got thru, the dominy yelled out at the top of his voice, 'sing another varse, deacon; they ain't all awake yit.'" wile all hands were laughing at the kernel's story, mr. bates got putty wide awake, and sed that his business had got sorter mixed up with stantin's, and in fact there warnt any courts or judges or juries now, an mity little need of atturny ginnerals--the ginnerals were all of another kind. he sed wen the war was over he meant to write out a legal opinion agin it, but he was afeered it wouldn't be loyal to do it now, and so he spent most of his time in reading a bound volume of the christian almanac, which he had for fifty years back. he thought the country was in a very prosperous condishin, for he drew his salary regular. after he got thru, the kernel called on me to make sum remarks, but i telled him "i didn't cum there to say enything, but only to listen, an to see ef i could larn enough of what was goin on to complete the message." they all set in then, especially seward, an sed i must give my impreshins, ef nothin more. "wal," i telled 'em, "ef i sed enything i should be jest as blunt as a pump-handle, an they mustn't take no offence; an that so far as i was consarned, i might jest as well go to a singin school to larn to dance as to have cum here to find enything about the state of the country. every one of 'em seemed to be thinkin about himself, an nothin about the country. because they drew their salary regularly, an had enough to eat and drink, they thought nobody was hurt. i telled 'em that i guessed they all had on 'glorification spectacles,' an that everything was magnified to 'em. then i sed that jest what the kernel wanted to know to put in his message was, how many sojers we had, an how much they were costin; an how many sailyurs we had, an how many ships, an how much they cost. then i telled 'em that the people would like to know how many poor fellers had lost their lives sence the war begun; how many had been crippled, &c., &c.; an how much the debt would be after we all got thru; an finally, what great good we had got by it all." here chase spoke up. ses he, "we'll establish freedom an restore the union." "wal," ses i, "ef you want four millions of niggers to take keer of, you're welcome to 'em, but as for restorin the union by war, so far it's jest been like climbin a greased pole; as fast as you climb up you slip back, an," ses i, "it will be so to the eend of the chapter, unless i'me mistaken." ses chase, ses he, "the majer is disloyal." wen he sed that i jumped rite up with my hickory, an ses i, "ain't your name salmon?" ses he, "yes." "wal," ses i, "it won't be long if you don't take that back." i never see a feller look so scart. ses he, "majer, i didn't mean eny offence, an so i'll take it back, for i think you mean well." i telled him "that i didn't allow enybody to say or to intimate that i warnt a friend to the constitushin and the union." the kernel here spoke an sed that his cabbynet was a good deal like old josh pendleton's boys out in lower illinoy. they allers cum hum every new years to see the old man an have a talk of old times, but afore they got thru they allers had a regular fite. so he thought he'd adjurn the cabbynet for fear there would be a scrimmage here. then they all took their departure, an the messige ain't no nearer done than ever. the kernel an i have set up nite after nite, an drank old rye, but it is no use, we can't get it in ship-shape form. the kernel ses he guesses he will jest get the messige out in rough and send it into congris, an let sumnure, chandler, lovejoy an thad stevens lick it into shape. yourn till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxii. _the message finished--mr. sumner says it is not grammatical--the major's excuse--mr. sumner finds fault with the major's spelling--the major stumps him--he gives his views on "edication"--mr. lincoln proposes a connundrum--the major tells a story--mr. seward's opinion on the war._ washington, dec. 6th, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--wal, i'm glad to say that congriss has got together, an the messige has been red an digested. he wouldn't let seward or chase have enything to do with it, but he jest mauled it all out himself. the next day arter the messige was sent in, sumnure cum in an sed the messige warn't exactly grammatikal in all its parts. i telled him that "i guessed ef he had to work around short corners as the kernel did, without gettin tripped up, he would find it mity hard work to get everything jest according to grammer." i telled him "grammer warn't of eny ackount wile the rebellyun lasted--that, like the constitushin, the grammer was suspended, or locked up where habus korpus couldn't get at it. in fact," ses i, "mr. sumnure, i think that eny man who talks about its bein necessary to obsarve the laws of grammer, or any other laws, wen a nashin is in a deth struggle with traiturs, is a disloyal person, an orter to be sent to fort la fieit." wen i sed this, sumnure turned all sorts of colors, an ses he, "wal, majer, perhaps you're rite about grammer; but i think you orter spell the president's name rite in your letters. it's a disrespect to the cheef majestrate not to do it." "wal," ses i, "mr. sumnure, i've got my own idees on spellin. spellin is a good deel like sparkin the gals--it's jest as a feller takes a noshin. my idee is, ef i spell a word so as to git its sound, i'm rite, an i don't keer wat you say, it's the only rule of spellin that holds good in the long run. now," ses i, "ef l-i-n-k-i-n don't spell linkin, what on arth does it spell?" that seemed to stump him. "but," ses he, "majer, there's some ginneral rules that orter be observed--rules that the schools all use." "wal," ses i, "i don't know much about schools, an i guess the kernel don't nether. i went to school six weeks, an the kernel ses he went six months. school larnin is mity poor truck to put into a feller's hed onless he's got a good deal of brains there. there's more edicated fools now in the world than there are fools of eny other kind, an there's a great menny of them, lord knows. and," ses i, "it's those edicated fools that make all the trubbil." "why, majer," ses he, "you ain't an enemy to edication, i hope." "wal, no, mr. senator, i ain't no enemy to edication; i only hate edicated fools." ses he, "majer, what do you mean by edicated fools?" "wal," ses i, "wen i was a boy, an went to school the six weeks i speak of, there was a boy in my class who could beat me a spellin an readin, an in eenamost everything, but i could lick him jest as easy as i could whistle. he hadn't eny more spunk, or pluck, or courage than a sick kitten, an mighty little genewine common sense. his father, however, sent him to college, an the fust thing i heerd of him, the papers were callin him a larned man, an he ain't done enything ever sence but to blab at abolishin meetins an make abolishin speeches. now," ses i, "that's wat i call an edicated fool. jest like the larned pig, he can do wat he larns to do or sees done; but as for real common sense to tell wether a thing is rite or rong, he ain't worth eny more for it than a bull-dog is to catch rats." sumnure looked kinder streaked wen i sed this, but i didn't say a word, an jest here the kernel, who had been down stairs to get his boot-jack, cum in. ses he, "good mornin, mr. sumnure. i'll bet you one of chase's greenbacks," ses he, "that you can't tell why this boot-jack is like an offis-seeker." sumnure sed he couldn't. "wal," ses the kernel, "because it sticks close to the heels of the presidint." i telled the kernel how that sumnure sed that the messige warn't grammatikal. "wal," ses he, "i beleeve everything goes rong sence i became presidint. the country is upside down; the niggers are more trubbul than ever before; the white men are cuttin one another's throats, an it seems as if bedlam was let loose; an now the grammer has been violated, they say. wal, i wonder wat on arth i am fit for. i never succeeded well in flat-botein; i allers had poor craps wen i tried to be a farmer; i was too tall to split rails handy; and, as a lawyer, i warn't enything more than from poor to middlin. ef i can't be presidint, i don't see wat on arth i was made for." "wal," ses i, "kernel, perhaps you are like the old quaker's dog." ses he, "how was that, majer?" "wal," ses i, "i'll tell you the story. up in maine, not far from downingville, there used to live an old quaker named hezekiah peabody. he had a yaller dog that was allus loungin around the house. one day sol hopkins, a rough old feller, cum along, an ses he, 'mr. peabody, i want a dog to hunt foxes. do you think your dog is good for foxes?' 'now,' ses the quaker, 'neighbor solomon, i never tried the dog on foxes for the huntin of any animals is not my business; but if thee wishes a dog for foxes, accordin to the scripters, this dog must be a good dog for foxes.' 'wal, will you warrant him a good dog for foxes?' 'i cannot do that, neighbor solomon, for i never tried him on foxes; but, accordin to the scripters, thee can be sure the dog is good for foxes.' so old sol, thinkin that scripter proof must be good, give the quaker five dollars for the dog. he took him hum, an the next day he saw a fox runnin across one of his lots. so he called the dog an showed him the fox, but he wouldn't stir an inch after him. this made old sol terribul mad, an the next day he took the dog back to the quaker, an ses he, in his rough way: 'mr. peabody, this dog is not worth a dam!' 'tut, tut, neighbor solomon, thee shouldn't speak profanely with thy lips.' 'that may be,' ses old sol, 'but didn't you tell me that this dog was good for foxes.' 'no, neighbor solomon, i think not. i said accordin to scripters he _must_ be good for foxes.' 'wal,' ses old sol, 'how do you make that out?' 'wal, neighbor, the scripters say, "that there is nothin made in vain," _an as i had tried that dog on everything else except fox-huntin, i thought that that must be what he was made for_!' "now," ses i, "kernel, i hope it won't turn out that you are like the old quaker's dog, 'made in vain,' or, as old sol. hopkins expressed it, 'not worth a d----!' but," ses i, "ef you don't restore this union before your term expires, the people will think that you were a good deal worse than the quaker's dog, for if he warn't good for enything, he didn't do any particular harm." the kernel didn't seem to like this story much, for ses he, "majer, i think you are getin kinder personel." ses i, "no, kernel; i don't mean to be, but you know stories sometimes will fit closer than you think for when you begin to tell 'em." jest here seward cum in, an with his church-yard smile, ses he, "good mornin, mr. president. i've got good news from england. there won't be any intervenshin now, an the rebellyun will all be over in 60 days. my friend weed thinks so, too." "what's up, boss?" ses linkin. that's the name he calls seward by. "oh," ses he, rubbin his hands, "don't you see by the papers what a large amount of money the merchants in york are subscribin for the poor, patient, starving english workmen. god bless 'em." here seward drew a deep sigh, and then ses he, "it will produce such a good effect in england! intervenshin is dead. the rebellyun is crushed, an all by this grand an noble idee of mine to feed the starvin poor. what filanthropy will do, when it is done right!" an here seward commenced rubbin his hands an walkin about the room, an actin like a gal that is jest goin to get married. i didn't say enything, an the kernel didn't say enything either, an it warn't a minut afore seward dodged out of the door as quick as he cum in. after he hed gone, ses i, "kernel, how many times has seward hed the rebellyun suppressed?" "oh," ses he, "he goes to sleep every night with the sartin belief that the union will be restored by daylight; that jeff davis will be hanging on a sour apple tree by noon, an that he will be elected next president by sundown." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i think you've got a queer cabinet." "yes," ses he, "that i have. seward thinks that his ritin letters to europe is goin to overthrow the rebellyun. chase thinks it can't be done, except by his greenbacks an freein the niggers. old grandfather welles is sure that there is nothin will restore the union except his gunboats; while blair feels sure that he kin do it by stoppin dimmecratic papers!" ses i, "why don't you change 'em?" "wal," ses he, "what's the use of swappin jackets? there ain't nothin to be made by it. no, i won't change my cabynet onless i'm druv to it. it's bad enough now, but lord only knows what it might be ef i ondertake to change it." i was in hopes i could induce linkin to put in some new men, an get out chase, seward, stantin an blair. but it's no use. so we shall jog along after the old fashion. where we shall be in the spring no one kin tell. congriss has gone to work in arnest to fix up the financies, an to take keer that the dimmecrats don't sue linkin for suspendin the habus korpus. the filanthropists are also bizzy, an they are goin to give all the niggers here a christmas dinner, which, i suppose, is expected to last 'em the year round. eatin like a turk one day an starvin 364, is, accordin to my idees, a poor way of livin. yours, till deth, major jack downing. letter xxiii. _the major goes to see the postmaster-general about stopping papers--mr. blair promises to release them--the president again in trouble--a change in the cabinet demanded--the major suggests a remedy for "the crysis."_ washington, dec. 20, 1862. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--wal, ef i ain't been bizzy sence i writ you last, i wouldn't say so. i got your letter about seein blair on the questshin of sendin the cawcashin in the mails, an i hadn't eny doubt but he would do it as soon as i put the subjec to him in the rite light. blair's father, "parson blair," as he used to be called in the old ginneral's time, an i used to be very thick. he helped me sifer a good deal wen i was postin the ginneral up about biddle's bank matters. but i hadn't seen the old man for a long time ontel i called on him tother day. he was dredful glad to see me, an shuck my hand as ef he thought there warn't no feelin in it. ses he, "majer, it's a long time sence we've met, an i know you are a loyal man, for there ain't no follerer of ginneral jackson that could be enything else." ses i, "ef there's a loyal man in this country, i'm one. i go for puttin down every feller that's opposed to the constitushin, i don't keer who he is. i only wish we had an old hickery to step in now an jest deal out jestiss all around, without any parshality. i guess there's a good menny fellers that don't expect it, who might get histed." "wal," ses he, "majer, i'm of your idee exactly. the truth is, i'm thinkin that this administrashin is played out. the ultrys will ruin it." "wal," ses i, "mister blair, i've cum to see you about another matter. your son montgummery, who used to be a little shaver in the old ginneral's time, has got the place of amos kindle, an he has been stoppin dimmycratic papers in the mails." "oh no," ses he, "i guess not; only sum disloyal sheets." "no," ses i, "i'll give you a hunderd dollars for every word of disloyalty agin the constitushin you'll find in that paper." here i took a cawcashin out of my pocket, an handed it to him. he looked it over an couldn't find nothin to object to. then i showed him the motto at its head, taken from his own words about the freedom of the press, an then i telled him i wanted him to go with me to montgummery, an see ef the thing couldn't be fixed. so we went over, an you never see a man stare so as montgummery did. ses he, "majer downing, i'm tickled to see you. i think you have slighted me sence you've been in washington. you've been to see nigh about all the members of the cabynet except me." "wal," ses i, "i don't go around much, except on bizness for the kernel; but now," ses i, "i've cum on another arrand; i've cum to see why you don't allow all the dimmycratic newspapers to go in the mails?" "wal," ses he, "majer, that's jest wat i'm goin to do. it was bad bizness for us that we ever stopped these papers. it made more votes for the dimmycratic party than eny other cause. the truth is, it never was my policy. i never did beleeve in it, and now they all see it must be given up." ses i, "mister blair, ef you didn't beleeve in it, you orter have refused to do it. that ain't the way the old ginneral acted, an he's my model. ef he thought enything was rong, there warn't a mortal man, high or low, that could have got him to do it. he would have died afore he would do wat his conscence told him warn't right, an it's them kind of men that are great men, an will save our country, ef it ever is saved." "wal," ses he, "majer, you're about right, an i don't think i shall stay in this bote much longer. things are goin from bad to wus." "yes," ses i, "they are like old sol hopkins's dyin cow, 'gettin no better very fast.'" "but," ses he, "majer, you can rest easy on the papers. we are goin back to the free press principul, an let the people have their own way." "wal," ses i, "i'm glad to hear it. it's about time there was a change." so i bid him good-by, an went back to see the kernel, who i found in a peck of trubbil. ses i, "what's the matter now!" for i saw at a glance that sumthin was up. ses i, "is burnside whipped agin, or is stonewall jackson in our rear?" "no," ses he, "majer, nothin of that sort, but sumthin jest about as bad." "wal," ses i, "what is it?" "wal," ses he, "there has jest been a committy here from the senit who demand that i shall change my cabbynet. they say we don't have eny success, an the peopul demand a change." ses i, "did you kick em down stairs?" "no," ses he, "i didn't." "wal," ses i, "you orter. they mite jest as well ask you to resign." ses i, "don't your cabbynet agree in your policy? don't they do as you desire?" "yes," ses he, "they do." "wal," ses i, "then what's the use of changin? if you intend to change your policy, then it is reasonable to ask you to change your cabbynet, but otherways not." "wal," ses he, "majer, that's my idee exactly, but i didn't tell em so; i thought i would wait an see what you thought of it." "wal," ses i, "i see the hull cause of the rumpus. the defeat of burnside has made em so wrathy that they didn't know what to do, an they thought they must find fault about sumthin." ses i, "fighten the rebils is jest for all the world like bar huntin. a good menny years ago, when it was common up in maine, nigh about all the nabors would now an then turn out to hunt a bar. if they caught him they used to have a grand time, get up a big supper an drink whisky till they all got how cum you so. but if they didn't ketch the bar, then one was blamin tother, an tother anuther, an sumtimes the affair would end by gettin into a regular fite all around. jest so it is now. if burnside had whipped the rebils, it would all have been right." ses linkin, ses he, "major, you're right. but what am i do? they komplain about the cabbynet, an want me to change it." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i tell you how to fix it. get the committy and cabbynet face to face, an let 'em quarrel it out." "that would be a capital idee, majer, but how am i to do it?" "wal," ses i, "you jest call the cabbynet together for twelve o'clock to-morrow, an then send for the committy, an put 'em in the same room together, an see how the happy family will manage." the kernel was struck with the idee, an so the next day the cabbynet were assembled, an pooty soon after the committy, with fessenden as cheerman, made their appearance. you never see a more flustircated set of people in this world than these men were. but there was no backin out. the kernel called the meetin to order, an sed he had received a good many komplaints, an he wanted the matter fully discussed. fessenden got up an sed that the peeple were gettin tired of the war, an that the only way to satisfy 'em was to change the cabbynet. burnside had been defeated, banks had been sent a great ways off, when he was wanted at home, the sojers warn't paid, the gunboats warn't finished, &c., &c. chase got up first; he sed if the sojers warn't paid it warn't his fault. the fact was, that paper had riz onexpectedly, an his stock was low. jest as soon as paper got more plenty, an he got the new patent national ten cylendar revolvin machine at work, the sojers would be all paid regular. then stantin got up, puffin like a porpuss. ses he, "mr. president, these ere remarks are impertinent, an if i had my way, i would send every one of this committy to the old capitol. i'de like to know what these men know about war, and strategy. why, they talk about the defeat of burnside. it is nonsense, sir; he ain't been defeated! the people are humbugged by the newspapers. it's a pity there's a newspaper in the land. they interfere with my strategy. burnside has gained a great success. he has discovered the strength of the enemy's works at that pint, an now we know that some other route is the one to take, an not that one. ef it had not been for this battle, we shouldn't have found that out. this committy of old gentlemen, or old women, i had almost said, don't understand the art of war. their talk is sheer impertinence. i'de squelch em with a proclamashin, if no other way." then grandfather welles got up, an sed he didn't like to have fault found because his gun-boats warn't reddy. he sed he would like to see eny one who had worked harder than he had. he sed he hadn't slept but fourteen hours a day for six months, while his naturel rest required eighteen. he hed sacrificed all that for the good of his country, and he didn't believe one of the committy hed done as much. blair got up and said he didn't keer how quick they turned him out. he was reddy to go eny time, as he thought the thing was about played out. bates sed he thought things looked more cheerful than ever before, as he hed jest discovered that niggers could be citizens, and that the dred scott decision was a humbug. when they all got thru, there was a ginnerel talk all around, and they finally cum to the conclushin that there warn't eny reason for a change after all, an they all went off in a pretty good humor. so the great cabbynet crysis ended, and the kernel feels like a new man. my idee of gettin them all together face to face, the kernel ses, saved the nashun. that nite we set up till after midnight, and finally, after takin a good swig of old rye, went to bed. the next morning the kernel was as merry as a lark, and could tell stories as well as ever. yours till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxiv. _the emancipation proclamation--the way to get richmond--splitting the union--the major tells a story about splitting--the president gets indignant--seizes the boot-jack--the major pacifies him--a dream--the major returns to downingville._ downingville, state of maine, february 4th, 1863. _to the editers of the cawcashin:_ surs:--i expect you have bin kinder puzzled to know why you ain't heered from me in so long a time. i expect you'll wonder, too, why my letter is dated downingville instead of washington. wal, i'll have to narrate the hull story:--you know the last letter i rit you was jest afore the first of jinewary, when the kernel had promised to issoo his free nigger proclamashin. i was allers teetotally down on it, an i thought i should persuade him out of it, an tharby save the great disgrace an stane it would be on our country. but the truth is, the kernel an i had a row about it, an i left. the story i'll tell jest as it tuk place: the mornin after new year's i cum down stairs, an the kernel was settin in his cheer with his feet on the tabil. "wal," ses he, "i've done it." "done what?" ses i. "why," ses he, "i've signed the proclamashin." "wal," ses i, "you had better have signed your own deth warrant, for that is the deth warrant of the union." ses he, "majer, i'm sorry you're so hard on that." "wal," ses i, "kernel, i ain't too hard on it, as you'll find out to your sorror." "now, majer, let me ask you one thing. we must take richmond, an ain't we tried every way but this? ain't we gone by the shanandore vally, by jeemes river, by manasses, an yet we can't get to richmond? we must weaken the rebils afore we can do it, an this is the way to effect it." ses i, "kernel, don't you know there is one way to get to richmond that you ain't tried yet?" "no," ses he, "i didn't know it." "wal," ses i, "there is." "wal," ses he, "what on arth is it?" "wal," ses i, "it is the _constitushinal way_!" ses i, "you've bin tryin to git there agin the constitushin, an you can't do it that way. ef you hadn't called out 75,000 men to whip south caroliny, old virginny would never have left you, an you could have got to richmond jest as easy as old grandfather welles kin go to sleep." "wal," ses he, "majer, mebby that's so, but you can't dip up spilt milk. ef the thing is wrong, it's gone so far now that we may as well drive it thru an see ef we can't clinch it on tother side." "but," ses i, "there ain't eny tother side to this questshin, eny more than there is a white side to a nigger or black side to a white man, an you may drive on and on, an you won't get thru." "wal," ses the kernel, "what will come of it then, majer?" "wal," ses i, "you will _split_ the union, but that is all you kin do." "wal," ses he, "majer, that would be jest like my tarnel luck. i never got hold of but one thing in my life that i didn't split." ses i, "what was that?" ses he, "a taller candle, an i defy all creashin to split that." ses i, "kernel, i guess you must be some relashin to the feller out west who split up all the churches." ses he, "how was that?" "wal," ses i, "ef i tell you the story, you must not get mad, for i'm afeered it will set putty clus." ses he, "majer, i can stand a joak better than eny other feller you ever see." "wal," ses i, "here goes: there was a feller out west who got converted, or thought he did, an jined the episcopal church. he hadn't bin in it long afore he got the members by the ears, an split it all up an broke it down. after he had done all the hurt he could, he went an jined the presbyterian church, an he hadn't bin there long afore he split that all up. then he went an united with the baptist church. it warn't long afore they were all split up an broke to pieces. being turned out from there, he went an jined the methodist church. he soon got that church into hot water. one day, when the ministers were consultin as to what to do with him, ses one of them, ses he, 'i've bin prayin most fervently that that man may go to hell!' 'tut, tut, brother,' says the elder, 'how can you do so? you should pray for him that he may be better, and be fitted to go to heaven.' 'no,' ses he, 'i don't think so. i've prayed earnestly that he might go to hell, an i'll tell you why. he has split up an broken up every church an neighborhood he was ever in, an ef he should go to satan's dominions, i think he might split an break up that place, an you know what a blessing that would be.'" i hadn't more than got the last word out of my mouth, wen the kernel jumped up from his cheer, and ketchin hold of his boot-jack, he flourished it rite over his head in a savage style. i thought he was stark mad. i got my hickery an backed up agin the door. i seed he was tarin mad, but i didn't say a word. i knew he'd work off the bile in his own way. finally ses he, "majer, wat are you standin there for?" "why," ses i, "i was waitin to see what you was goin to do with that boot-jack." ses he, "have i got the boot-jack?" "wal," ses i, "you've got sumthin in your hand that looks a mity site like one." "wal," ses he, "majer, i want to know whether you mean to apply that story to me?" "no," ses i, "kernel. didn't i tell you at the outset that i didn't; but you was tellin about what you had done in the way of splittin things, an i was reminded of that story. but i told you to keep your temper, an not take it as personal, but only as a joak?" "wal," ses he, "majer, i'll forgive you; but ef i thought you meant that story for me, i'd arrest you for disloyal practices, an put you in the old capital prison." then the kernel asked me to take some old rye with him an make up friends. so i did; but i noticed, after that, that the kernel watched me very clus. the very next day i had an awful attack of rumatiz, an i also felt sick an discurraged. thigs never looked so black afore. i had a dream that nite, an i thought i saw the old ginneral, an he told me, ses he, "this ain't any place for you now. the abolitionists have got full sway, an they will ruin the country as sure as my name is andrew jackson." i also dreamed that i saw thousands of dyin men, an weepin wimmin, an cryin children. i thought the doors of the houses all over the north looked red with blood, an a black cloud hung over the hull land. people seemed to be runnin first one way an then tother, askin what they should do. finally, i heered a grate noise, like an arthquake, that woke me up, an i laid awake the rest of the nite. the next mornin i was eenamost down sick with trubbel an rumatiz, an i telled the kernel i must go hum, where i could get good keer taken of me. the kernel didn't say much agin it, for, after all, he didn't kinder like that story. so ses i, "mr. president, i've been with you now for about a year, an i've got a clean conscience, for i've tried to tell you the rale truth jest as it is. ef all who have cum around you had done the same, you would not be where you are; but," ses i, "i ain't got any feelin on the subject, an whenever i can be of any sarvice to my country, jest let me know, an i will come to washinton agin." the kernel ses he, "majer, i know you are a patriot, and i feel bad to have you go. i wish now i had taken your advice. but," ses he, "majer," an here he giv my hand a tight squeeze, "you know i've only been a boat in a current, an yet like the boat i'll be jest the one that will get the worst smashed to pieces when the precipice is reached." i couldn't help feelin' kinder sorry for the kernel as i bid him good-bye, but i felt still more sorry for my country that it had ever made him president. i got hum all safe, an sense then i've been laid up four weeks with the rumatiz. i never had such a long pull afore. as for writin with it on me, why i can't any more do it than a shad can climb a bean-pole. i expect you've been wonderin why you didn't hear from me, but i think this letter will explain the resin. if the rumatiz don't come on agin, an i think i kin say anything that would of sarvice in this awful and solemn crysis of our country's fate, i will drop you a line. i feel as if the nashin was dyin, however, an that we all orter put on mournin an sack-cloth, but come what will, i'm for my country till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxv. _the major feels sorrowful over the fate of his country--the story of the black heifer--the man who made a "siss"--the union--"insine" stebbins again--his reception at downingville--"the insensibles"--a provoking accident._ downingville, march 28, 1863. _to the eddyters of the cawcashin:_ surs:--you may wonder why you ain't heered from me afore; but the rale truth is, that i didn't feel like ritin in these times. i went to washinton about a year ago, out of pure patriotism. i didn't want a contrack, nor a commission, nor enything. i went to give the kernel good advice, jest as i did ginneral jackson; but it warn't no go. somnure an greeley, an wendil fillips, an sech stay-at-hum fiten ginnerals got the advantage of me, an linkin does jest wat they want him to. to an old man like me, these are tryin times. i had almost said _cryin_ times; i can't bear to think of 'em. i dream o'nights of my country, wen it was all peace an happiness--wen ther warn't any sojers nor standin army to pay, nor no debt, nor no hospitals full of sick sojers, nor no sorrow or misery in the land; an wen i wake up an think how different it is now, i wish i could sleep all the time. the other day old deacon jenkens came over to see me. the deacon, you know, was with me in washinton a short time, wen i first went there, and his darter jerusha matilda went down to port royal to teach the contrybands their primmers. wal, the deacon ain't much wiser now than he was a year ago. he still thinks that by prayin an fightin the rebels will yet be whipped. he used to like the _tribune_, but lately he ses he prefers the _herald_, as it is more truthful. the old man, however, has been very blue for some time past, and now ses that prayin an fightin hain't accomplished much. "wal," ses i, "deacon, there hadn't orter been eny war at all; but," ses i, "while the south have had a single end an purpose, we've been all at odds and ends. the war has been carried on by us jest like old sol pendergrast's boy ploughed. old sol took his oldest boy, adam, a thick-heded feller, out one spring, an set him to ploughin. he told him to go to work an strike a furrow across a field to a _black heifer_, an then keep on. after givin this direcshin, old sol went off to the house an left adam alone. the boy started his oxen in a bee line for the _black heifer_, but wen he got pretty clus to her, she threw up her tail an ran off in another direcshin. adam thought he must foller the heifer, no matter where she went; so he struck another bee line for her, and with jest the same result. wen he got clus to her, the heifer give another frisk to her tail, an off she went. adam geed his oxen around, and struck for her agin; an so he kept on all day. at nite the old man cum out to see how adam had got along. he found the field all cut up with furrows, zig-zag, criss-cross, an in every direcshin, an asked adam wat on arth it ment. 'wal,' ses the thick-headed numskull, 'you told me to steer for the _black_ heifer, an i've done it all day, but the denied critter wouldn't stand still, an so the furrows are a kinder criss-cross, you see.' now," ses i, "that is jest wat linkin has been doin. greeley told him to steer for the nigger, an the result is jest like adam pendergrast's ploughing. there's a considerable fightin ben done, but it is all criss-cross, zig-zag, an don't amount to nothin, an so it will be to the end of the chapter." wen i sed this, the deacon knocked the ashes out of his pipe, an ses he, "wal, majer, wat do you think the war will amount to, enyhow?" "wall," ses i, "i guess it will end a good deal like the feller who thought he could make a horse-shoe jest as well as a blacksmith." ses the deacon, ses he, "how was that, majer?" "wal," ses i, "one day a feller in a blacksmith's shop made a bet that he could make a horse-shoe jest as well as the blacksmith himself, though he hadn't never heated an iron nor struck a blow on an anvil. the feller sed it didn't require any great gumption to make a horse-shoe. so he took a piece of iron an at it he went. he put it in the fire, heated it an commenced poundin it, but the more he pounded, the more it didn't look like a horse-shoe. he finally gave up the job, an said if he couldn't make a horse-shoe he _could_ make a wagon-bolt. so at it he went, but the more he pounded an the more he heated his iron, the less it grew, an finally he found that he couldn't make even a wagon-bolt. then he declared that he had iron enough left for a horse-shoe nail, and that he _would_ make, but upon trying, he found that the most difficult job of all. finally, giving up in despair, ses he, 'wal, one thing i can do enyhow, i can make a _siss_!' an plunging the tongs an what was left of the iron in the water, he did get up a very respectable 'siss.' now," ses i, "when he started out, linkin sed he was goin to restore the old union. that has been given up long ago, and now they say they are goin to conquer the southern states, that is, make a despotism, but the war will turn out jest like the horse-shoe business. linkin will, after all, neether make a union, or a despotism, or an empire by it, but it will end with a great big 'siss.' that's all he will accomplish by it, an a dear 'siss' it will be for many a poor fellow. a dear 'siss' it will be for the fatherless and the widows, and a wonderful dear 'siss' it will be for the people who will have to pay the taxes and foot the bill of war." wen i said this, the deacon drew a long breth, an lookin down on the floor, didn't say enything for some minutes. finally, ses he, "wal, majer, will we have to give up the union after all?" ses i, "i don't see eny necessity for that, providin that we kin only stop the war an talk over matters a little. but," ses i, "ef the union is goin to be a union wherein a white man hasn't the right to express his opinions, then i must say i don't love such a union as that, an i'm as strong a union man as old ginneral jackson, an that was strong enough. i am for the old union, but ef the union is to mean despotism, then i'm for breakin it all to smash, as soon as possible. wen a man begins to humbug me by callin things by their wrong names to try an deceive me, it allus riles me onaccountably. i ain't a very larned man, but i kin generally see through one of these college chaps. wen he talks union to me, an all the time means despotism, i allus feel jest like haulin up my old hickory, an givin him a sockdologer. why," ses i, "deacon, the feller who wants to turn this government into a despotism, an keeps all the time hollerin 'union,' while he is doin it, is not only a traitor, but a hypocrite an coward. he is afeerd to speak his rale sentiments, an so goes around tryin to deceive the people, jest as the false prophets in the saviour's time. i'm teetotally down on such fellers, an i mean to be to the end of the chapter." i almost forgot to tell you that insine stebbins, who went off to the war, has jest got hum. he had a recepshun by the military of downingville wen he arriv. col. doolittle called out the downingville insensibles an the maroon artillery, an all downingville was in a blaze of glory. the insine has been promoted to be captin sense he went off, for ritin a pome for the contrybands at port royal, where the insine was stashioned. the insine is not a bad poet. but you orter seen the turnout in downingville to receive him. colonel doolittle rode down the street on old elder dusenberry's sorrel mare, an jest as the cannon was blazin forth the joyous news of the captin's arrival on the ground, old sorrel's colt, that the elder thought he had locked up safe in the stable, come tarein through the street, an fairly mowed a swath rite through the women. such a yellin an screachin ver never heered afore. a good many people thought the rebils were comin. elder dusenberry's wife tore her best silk dress, an the insine who had primed himself for a big speech on the occashin, had it all scart out of him. if it hadn't been for that rascally young colt, i think that the celebrashin would have been the greatest day downingville had seen sence the time general jackson visited it. the insine brings the news from washington that the kernel thinks some of payin a visit to the north, an maybe to the east, afore long. ef he does, he says he wants me to go along with him to help him make speeches and keep off the offis-seekers. ef he sends for me, i spose i shall have to go, though i hate to do it. yourn till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxvi. _the democratic party whipped--things as bad as they can be--a story in point--mr. lincoln sends for the major again--the major writes him a letter--the return of "kernel" stebbins, formerly "insine"--his reception at downingville--"kernel" doolittle's speech--"kernel" stebbins' reply--elder sniffles' preaches a sermon._ downingville, oct. 26, 1863. _to the editers of the dabook:_ surs:--'cause your readers hain't herd from me lately, i 'spose they think i'm ded, or gone over to the abolishinists, which is a tarnal sight wus: but i ain't in neither fix. i'm pretty well jest now. the hot wether, durin the summer, kinder tried me, but i carry eighty years jest about as well as any man ever did. the resin you ain't herd from me is jest this: i've been feelin oncommon gloomy and down-sperited all summer. everything seemed to be goin from bad to wus. linkin wouldn't take my advice an cum out agin the abolitionists, but issued his free nigger proclamashun rite agin the law an the constitushin both. wal, things have gone down hill rapid sence then. the demmycratic party didn't cum out bluntly agin this proclamashin, but kept on supportin the war, an the consequence is, it has whipped all round. politics are gettin down to first principles. things are jest as bad as they kin be, and that is what encourages me. i shall never forget hezekiah stebbins, who lived away up in the upper part of penobscot. one winter it had been awful cold weather, and 'kiah had wonderful bad luck, and towards spring it seemed to get worse instead of better. he had lost his horse, and his cow, and his chickens, and all his pigs but one. finally, that died, and the next day i happened to go up to his house to see how he was gettin along. i found the old man happy as a lark. he was singin and shoutin as if nothing had happen'd. when i went in, ses i, "'kiah, what on airth is the matter?" "oh," ses he, "the last pig is ded," and he went to jumpin and clappin his hands, as if he was the happiest man in the universe. ses i, "what possesses you to act so?" "wal," ses he, "things _can't_ be no wus. the last pig is ded! anything that happens now must be for the better." and just so it is with the dimmycratic party. anything now that happens to it _must_ be for the better. and i must confess that i feel a good deal like 'kiah. i don't feel a bit like settin down and cryin like a sick baby over spilt milk, because we've been whipt in the late elecshins. that ain't the way the old ginral hickory jackson taught me dimmocracy. the other day i got a letter from linkin, askin me to cum on to washinton. he ses he is gettin into a heep of trouble about his next messidge, all on account of the diffikilty which blair an chase air kickin up about what is to be dun with the suthrin states after the rebelyon is put down. he ses he wants me to help git up the messidge, and kinder fix things up ginrally. i writ back that cold wether was cumin on, and my rumatiz would probably trouble me, so i could not tell exactly what i would do, but if i could be of any service to my country, as long as life lasted, i would do my duty. i wrote him, also, about that matter of the southern states, an i told him that it reminded me of the old receipt for cooking a rabbit. "_first catch your rabbit._" i told him they had not got the southern states yet, that they sartainly wouldn't get them this year, an i didn't see any great likelihood of gettin them next year. in fact, the times of the soldiers were mostly out, an i didn't believe they would ever get another sich an army, an if he followed my advice he would get up a peace this winter without fail. i ain't got any answer to this letter, but i shall wait for one before i go. if the kernel talks huffy, i won't stir a step, for he knows i allers tell him the plain, blunt truth, as i believe it. wen i can't talk that way to a man, i won't have nothing to do with him. the old ginneral allers wanted everybody around him to speak there rale sentiments. nothing made him so mad as to suspect any body of flatterin him, or shaming in any way. the other day kernel stebbins cum hum from the war. the kernel has been down to morris island with ginneral gilmur. he ses that the sand on that island is kinder onaccountable. the kernel reckons that he has eat nigh about a bushel. the kernel used to be very good on writin poetry, but he says all the flatus has oozed out of him, an he don't believe he could write a line to save his life. we had a grand recepshin for the kernel on his arrival. the downingville insensibles turned out as usual on sich occashins. you recollect that the kernel went off as an insine, an when he was promoted to be captain he cum hum an we giv him a recepshin. now he is raised to kernel he cums hum agin. he cums every time he gets promoted, to let his old naybors see how he looks in his new uniform. i never see the kernel look so well. he has got a span new suit of blue uniform, all covered with gold buttons, an gold lace an gold shoulder-straps. i tell you, the people looked astonished, and the downingville folks feel very proud of him. the kernel expects before long to be a ginneral, and then to be called to the command of the army of the potomac! wen the kernel was received at the town hall, kernel doolittle, who commands the downingville insensibles, made the recepshin speech. the following is the speech, with the kernel's reply: "kernel stebbins: i am deputed by the citizens of downingville to welcome you once more to your native town and hum. we have heard of your gallant exploits, your glorious bravery, your never-dyin devoshin to the star-spangled banner. comin as you do, covered with the dust and blood of the battle-field, we hail you as the friend of the oppressed african and the savior of your country." to which the kernel replied: "kernel doolittle: i can't begin to express to you the feelins of my hart. this occashin is techin. sojers can't make speeches. i've dun my duty. i've seen the cannons roar. i've heard the flash of a thousand rifles all at once. there ain't nothin that can equal it for rite down tall sublimity. but, feller-citizens, we ought to be most rejoiced now because freedom is going it at such big licks. i'me a manifest destiny man. i believe freedom is to extend from the frozen planes of alabama to the sunny banks of newfoundland. there ain't nothin kin stop it. it is comin like an avalanche from the eternal hills of giberalter. freedom! freedom! will resound from creashin come to pullin turnip time, an all the hopples that bind the legs of american citizens of afriken 'scent will fall off. them's my sentiments, and i don't keer who knows 'em. the old union ain't of any more ackount in these 'ere times than an iron pot with a hole in the bottom. wat we want is a new union which will have for its motto the celebrated words of daniel webster, 'freedom and niggers--now and forever--one and inspirable.'" "amen," yelled out deacon jenkins, who had been listenin' attentively, as the kernel sat down, and the hull audience broke out into the most tumultuous applause. there is a little mistake in kernel doolittle's speech, where he speaks of kernel stebbins being covered with the dust an blood of the battle-field. now, the truth was, the kernel, with his new uniform, looked as if he had jest cum out of a band-box, but kernel doolittle had his speech writ out, an he couldn't alter it. kernel stebbins got on such high hosses, that he talked about seeing the boomin' of cannon an hearin' the flash of guns, but the truth was, he didn't know exactly what he said an the people were so carried away with havin' a live kernel among them, that they didn't notice it. there ain't been nothin' talked of in downingville sence the kernel's return, except his recepshin. elder sniffles preached a sarmon on it, takin' for his text "there shall be wars an rumors of wars," an provin from the bible that war is the duty of all real, genuine christians. so, you see, there ain't a more loyal place in the country, unless it be washinton, where all the office-holders an contractors live. but i must close. i did't expect to write you but a few lines this time. if i go to washington, i will let you into the secrete of the blair and chase rumpus, an keep you posted up ginerally on things behind the curtin." yours, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxvii. _the major starts for washington--takes his axe with him--mr. lincoln glad to see him--the cabinet in session--the opinion of seward, chase, stanton and others--the major called on for an opinion--the story of old sam odum--mr. stanton gets excited._ washington, nov. 6, 1863. _to the editers of the dabook:_ the very next day after i writ you my last letter, i got one from linkin, tellin me i must cum on without fail. he said he was in a peck of trubbil about his messige--that chase an seward were pullin rite in contrary direcshins, an what to do he didn't know. so i jest packed up my things, took my pipe in my mouth an my old hickery in my hand, and started. i strapped my axe on the outside of my trunk, for this is the only weepin, besides my hickory cane, that i ever carry. goin down to the cars i met deacon jenkins, who went on to washinton, you recollect, to make the kernel's sojer clothes, an ses he, "majer, what are you takin your axe with you to washinton for?" "wal," ses i, "deacon, i expect i shall get awful, tarin mad with them abolitionists this winter in washinton, an ther ain't eny way that i kin work off a fit of that kind except by goin out to the wood-house an choppin wood. so i determined to take along my axe. it is one the old ginneral used when he got mad, an i have always preserved it to remember him, ef nothin else." i got to washinton all safe, an went direct to the white house. the feller who tends the door didn't know me at first; but when he saw my hickery he began to open his eyes, i tell you. ses he, "you are majer downing, i believe," bowin like and scrapen his feet, as ef he thought i keered for that. ses i, "yes, i'm majer jack downing, an you jest tell the president, about as quick as time will let you, that i'm here." so he run up-stairs, an i went after him, stoppin in the room where the offis-seekers have to wait, to take a good look down the potomack to see ef things looked nateral. i hadn't stood there more than a minit when who should cum up behind me but linkin himself. he caught rite hold of my hand, an ses he, "majer, how are you? i'm tickled to deth to see you;" an he kept shaken my hand as ef he thought it was made of lether. ses i, "kernel, do you want me to help write your messige?" ses he, "of course i do, majer." "wal, then," ses i, "please don't shake that hand eny more, for you've pretty nigh mashed it now." "wal," ses he, "majer, i couldn't help it, for it seems as ef providence sent you jest in the nick of time." ses i, "how is that?" "wal," ses he, "the cabynet is in session, an i've just finished tellin them one of artemus ward's best stories, an got 'em all into a good humor. the messige is the very thing they met to discuss, an you're cum rite in the nick of time," hittin me, as he spoke, a slap on the back that made the cold chills run over me. nothin would do but i must go in and hear the discusshin. so i walked in as large as life. i knew 'em all, an they all knew me. they pretended to be rale glad to see me, perticularly stantin; but he needn't try to deceeve me, for under them spectacles of his i see a pair of hyena eyes. i tell you that that man will bear watchin. however, i sed nothin; but after the how-do-doos were over, i laid my old hickery on the table, took out my pipe, an went to smokin. the kernel then called the meetin to order, an sed he wanted a short ackount of each department, so he could fix up his messige, an he also wanted the opinion of each one as to what he thought ought to be done with the southern states after the rebellyon is crushed. fust, he called upon seward. wal, seward said that furrin affairs were all rite; that he had offered to carry out the policy of england all over the country, an set up a monarchy, ef necessary, to put down the dimmycrats, an that upon his faithfully promising to do this, the british government at once seized the rebil rams. that as for the southern states, he thought the best thing that could be done with them, for the good of the country an the grate cause of humanity, was to turn 'em all into one big plantation an make thurlow weed chief manager. then chase spoke. he sed the finances were in a flourishing condishin. he now had five hundred printin presses to work makin money; that the debt warn't only $5,000,000,000,000; that every body was gettin rich, an that the way to treat the southern states an save the country was just this: issue a proclamashin that only jest enough cotton should be raised for him to print greenbacks on, an then he could control the currency in spite of all the copperhead gold speculaters in creashin. stantin sed that his department was all right. that he had got rid of all the copperhed ginrals, and had left the track clear for the next president to be a genuine abelishinist. that all that was necessary now was to keep the war up till after the next presidential elecshin, and he thought he could do it. as for the southern states, he was for givin the niggers the plantations and makin the whites their slaves. then old grandfather welles got up, strokin his long white beard. he sed that nothin could save the nashin but gunboats; that he was buildin one a day now, except on the sabbath, which he piously devoted to prayin an fastin, and to dividin the contracks among his relashins. he thought the south ought to be surrounded with a wall of gunboats from texas to maryland. the next one that spoke was blair. he said he hadn't stopped a single paper durin' the hull year, an he was only sorry that he ever did; that he had only given the papers he stopped more circulashin than they ever had before; that no one would ever catch him into another such a scrape. as for the southern states, he was down on all the radikels. he sed they might be allowed to cum back jest as they wanted to. when it cum daddy bates' turn, he was fast asleep. when linkin told him what he wanted, he sed it warn't for him to say what should be done with the southern states. after it was decided what to do with 'em, he supposed they would want a legal opinion on the subject, an he could give one on either side, he did'nt care which. after they had all got thru, linkin turned to me, an ses he, "majer, what do you think about this matter?" i knocked the ashes out of my pipe, and ses i, "wal, i don't like to give an opinion on the jump, for i hain't had time yet to see exactly how the land lays here; but," ses i, "as near as i understand it, all these men here are tryin to catch the south first, and then what to do with her afterwards is another question. now, the south seems to be a good deal like old sam odum, up in maine, when he thought the devil was after him. one night he got to dreaming, and jumped out of bed in his shirt, and ran like all possessed down the street. about a half a dozen neighbors chased him until he run up a tree, out of which they couldn't get him anyhow. he kept a screaming "the devils are after me," and would fite like a tiger if any one tried to get at him. finally, old deacon peabody cum along, and ses he, "sam thinks you fellers are the devils that are goin to ruin him; you jist go away and let him alone, and sam will be hum and in bed afore morning." they tuk his advice, and sure enough, so it was." when i sed this, stantin, who is quick as a flash, jumped up, an ses he, "majer, do you mean to say that we are devils tryin to catch the south?" an he walked rite close up to my face, jest as if he thought he could bully me down. ses i, "mr. secketery, if you will stand back about six inches, you kin see an hear jest as well." he stepped back a little, an i picked up my old hickery, an ses i, "stantin, do you recollect the time down to fort munroe when you tried to get on the president's trowsers?" i never see a feller wilt so as when i sed this. he turned all sorts of colors, an wriggled as if he had a pin stickin in him. "now," ses i, "i didn't say that you were devils, or anything of the sort, but it seems putty certain that mr. stantin feels the shoe pinchin. at all events," ses i, "you ain't caught the south yet, an consultin what you will do with her before that is like countin chickens before they are hatched." the kernel then sed that the session was closed, an after they all axed me to cum an see 'em, except stantin, they went away. i think my story about sam odum sot putty strong on 'em, an ef they feel like takin it to hum let 'em do so, for my rale rite down solemn opinion is, ef these ere abolishin cabynet were to stop trying to catch the south, _she would be hum an in the union bed afore mornin_. yourn, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxviii. _the major and the "kernel" at work on the message--the major visits mr. chase again--sees the machines for printing greenbacks--a machine for every general--the accounts mixed up--mr. lincoln gets flighty over them--the major puts him to bed, and applies a mustard-plaster--he revives, and proposes a conundrum--the major also proposes one._ washington, nov. 19th, 1863. _to the editers of the dabook:_ surs:--if i ain't been bizzy sence i writ you last, then never a man was. besides, i've had a considerabul twinge of my old inemy, the rheumatiz. this ere washington atmosfere is terribul on the constitushin. the kernel, too, was nigh about down sick one day; but we both tuk a good, old-fashioned wiskey-sling, of the very best old rye, and went to bed on it. the next mornin we both felt fust rate. the kernel keeps as good wiskey as i ever got enywhere. we have been very hard at work on the messige, and such a time as we have had of it you never did see. stantin don't know how meny sojers he has got in the field, nor how meny have been killed or wounded. grandfather welles can't tell how meny gunbotes he's got, an as for chase, he don't purtend to even guess for a certainty how many greenbacks there are aflote, or how big the public debt is. the kernel sed he couldn't even lay the foundashin timbers of his messige until he had some figgers about the debt to begin on. so i told him i would go over an see chase an have a talk with him. i tuk my slate under my arm an started. soon as i went in chase tuk me by the hand an sed he was rale down rite glad to see me. i telled him what i wanted, an he sed he would soon have it reddy for me, but jest then he asked me to go up-stairs an see the macheenery an printin presses, and so on, that he had got to make money. he sed the worst of it was that the machenes was constantly gettin out of order, and he wanted to know if i understood anything about sich affairs. i telled him there warnt nothing, from squirrel-traps to dog-churns and thrashing macheenes, that i didn't know from stem to starn. then he sed i was jest the chap he wanted. so i went with him, and i was perfectly thunderstruck when i saw all the riggin, and fixins, and belts, and shafts, and pulleys, and machenes all a runnin and whizzin and buzzin, as fast as they could go. ses the secketary, "this here macheen runs to pay off gineral grant's troops. this one runs to pay off gineral meade's troops. this one runs for gineral banks. this one is now bizzy for gineral burnside, and here is this ere one completely broken down. it is gineral gilmore's macheen!" "wal," ses i, "mr. secketary, do you have a macheen for every gineral and every army?" "yes," ses he, "about that." "wal," ses i, "what do you do about the contracters?" "oh," ses he, "i ain't showed you them yet. that's in another room." ses he, "come along with me." so i follered, and we went off into another room. it was nigh about ten times as big as the first one, and there were hundreds of presses runnin' as fast as they could go. "there," ses he, "if these here machenes were to stop one day, it would set all wall street into a panic. sometimes, when the belts give out or the bolts break, or the coal gits short, or paper don't git in in time, there is a good deal of troubil, but i've got it so fixed now that i keep 'em putty well supplied." ses i, "mr. secketary, who is your engineer?" "wal," ses he, "he's a good trusty man." "but," ses i, "suppose he should bust your bilers, what would wall street do then?" "wal," ses he, "i never thought of that, but i guess there ain't eny danger." "wal," ses i, "steam is mighty onsartin. old aunt keziah wiggleton, up in maine, used to say that the only safe way to run a steamboat was to take the bilers out, and my opinion is, that a government run by steam will bust up one of these days." chase didn't seem to like this last remark much, but he didn't say enything. we cum down stairs putty soon after, and a feller with a brown linen coat on, nigh about all over ink, brought a hull lot of papers covered over with figgers, and sed that mr. linkin could find out all he wanted to from them. i looked 'em over, but i couldn't make hed nor tail to them. "wal," ses i, "perhaps a chap who understands dubble and twisted entry book-keepin' can onderstand this ere figgering, but i'll be hanged if i kin." ses i, "here's seven thirtys, and five twentys, and six per cents, and five per cents, and bonds and stocks and sartificates, and '68s, and '78s, and '96s, and 158s, and lord knows how many more 8s, until it gets all mixed up so that you can't tell enything more about the debt than stantin kin tell how sojers has been killed and wounded. now," ses i, "the people don't care a straw enything about your six twentys, or your five twentys. all they want to know is jest how much money this ere war has cost, and that is what i'me tryin' to figger out for em. when old ginneral jackson wanted me to go into squire's biddle's bank and cifer out how matters stood i soon did it, but that warn't eny more comparin to this here affair, than the bunch of elder bushes in deacon jenkins's meadow is to the dismal swamp. i tuk the papers, however, over to linkin, for it was the best i could do. wen i handed them to the kernel, ses he, "majer, does chase expect me to survive after studyin out these figgers?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i don't know, but _i think chase wants to be next president_." the kernel tuk the hint rite off; but he sed chase would never be president, for he wanted to be so bad that he acted all the time as if a bumble bee was stingin him, and that his flyin round so would kill him off, if nothin else. we then both sot down and went to studyin the figgers. i cifered with my slate, and the kernel made chalk marks on his hat every time we got up to a million of dollars. purty soon the kernel's eyes began to look wild, and ses he, "majer, where do we land next? is she hedin up stream or side-ways? she'll go down, sure as thunder. well, let her rip; she's been a sinkin consarn for years." i see at once that the kernel was flighty. chase's figgers had turned his hed, and he thought he was flat-botin agin on the mississippi river. but he kept on ravin. ses he, "majer, knock that nigger off the bow of the bote; he's rite in the way of the pilot." ses i, "kernel, it ain't safe to hit a nigger in these days; stanton will put me in fort la fayette." i thought this might bring the kernel to his senses, but it didn't. ses he, "there it goes, majer, jest as i told you, rite on that snag. that nigger is to blame for the hull of it." i see it was no use, that the kernel was nigh about stark mad, and so i said to him, ses i, "let's put up this work to-night, an go to bed." he didn't want to, but i dragged him off, an he kept ravin' all the time, "that nigger has ruined me! there he comes--he is after me yet!" as soon as i got the kernel in bed, i put a double set of mustard plasters on his feet, an then gave him a strong dose of my old remedy, elder-bark tea. i knew that would cure him, if anything on arth. purty soon the sweat began to start, and the gripin in the bowels began. jest as soon as this took place, it drawed all the disease out of his head, an the next mornin he was as bright as new dimes used to be when there was sich things. the fust thing the kernel sed to me in the mornin was, ses he, "majer, i hed an awful dream last nite." ses i, "what was it?" "wal," ses he, "i dreamt that the nigger had destroyed the union." "wal," ses i, "kernel, you git nearer the truth in your dreams than you ginrally do when you are wide awake. if you will only have another dream, you will see the abolishinists have killed the union, and that the poor nigger is only the means that they have used to do it." the kernel didn't say nothin, but looked down on the floor an whistled. finally, he tuk out of his pocket one of chase's new fifty-cent shinplasters, an ses he, "majer, kin you tell me why this new currency has the _odor_ of nashinality about it?" "no," ses i, "kernel, i don't see it." "wal," ses he, "because it is _cented_ paper!" "wal," ses i, "kernel, now kin you tell me why that fifty-cent shinplaster is like the war?" ses he, "majer, you've got me there." "wal," ses i, "the face is black, which means that we are fightin to free the nigger, and the back is red--for the blood--the price we are payin for it!" when i sed this the kernel brought his hand down on the tabil like all possessed, giv a kick with his foot that sent his slipper flyin clear across the room, an ses he, "majer, by the ----." ses i, "kernel, hold on. do you want to take any more elder-bark tea?" when i sed this he tapered rite down, an ses he, jest as good as pie, "let's have some old rye and make frends." so i didn't object, but the messige ain't finished yet, and the lord only knows when it will be dun. yourn till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxix. _the trouble about the message--chase and seward find fault with it--the story of old deacon grimes' oven--mr. lincoln overrun with visitors--the major suggests a way to get rid of them--the small pox dodge--the message finished--mr. lincoln tells a story._ washington, dec. 10, 1863. _to the editers of the dabook:_ surs:--wen i writ you last, the messige warn't finished. wal, sich a time as we had in finishin that docyment you never did see. the kernel an i set up all nite long three or fore nites, but it was nigh about onpossibul to get it to suit him. he would get it fixed, an then seward would cum in an say it was too bold. then chase he'd cum in an say it warn't bold enuf; and finally i telled him to make it as old deacon grimes did his oven. he wanted to know how that was. wal, i telled him it was this way: the deacon built an oven facin to the north, wen one of his nabors cum along an sed that would never do, as the north wind would blow rite into the mouth of the oven. so the old man turned it around, an put the face to the south. pretty soon another nabor cum along, an ses he, "deacon, it will never do to have that oven face the south, for there ain't any wind so blustering as the south wind." so the deacon turned it around to the west. pretty soon a man cum along, an ses he, "deacon, don't you know that the worst showers and hurry-canes we have always cum from the west? it will never do to face your oven that way." so the deacon determined to change it around to the east. he hadn't more than got it dun, before another nabur cum along, an ses he, "why, deacon grimes, i'm perfectly astonished to see you buildin an oven an facin it to the east. there ain't any wind so sarchin and penetratin as the east wind, an it will blow your fire all out of the oven." "wal," ses the old deacon, perfectly discurriged, "i'll suit you all; i'll build my oven on a pivot, an wen you cum along you kin turn it around jest as you want it." "now," ses i, "kernel, that's the way to fix your messige." ses he, "that is a fact; the only trubbil is to fix on a pivot on which it kin turn." "wal," ses i, "that is the easiest thing in the world. take the nigger for the pivot, an it will suit every man in your party. the only difference between 'em is, that some don't like to look hin square in the face. that sort kin turn your messige around a little, an then they will see the nigger side-ways; and those that can't stand that kin turn it clear around, an then they will see the nigger in the back, but it will be nigger all the time!" the kernel sed it was a capital idee, an he ment to carry it out. it got noised around that the kernel was comin out with some big thing in his messige, an every congressman, wen he got to washinton, run rite to the white house to give the kernel advice. they nigh about run him to deth. "wal," ses i, "kernel, make believe you're sick." "sho," ses he, "that won't do a bit of good. i've tried it often, an they bore me wus than ever." "wal," ses i, "tell 'em you've got the scarlet fever, an that will scare 'em away." the kernel sed it was a fust-rate idee, an so it was announced in all the papers that the president had the scarlet fever; but it didn't do much good. sum staid away, but the crowd yet was tremenjus. "now," ses i, "kernel, this is too bad; here it is almost time for congress to meet, and no messige dun yet. jest let the reporters announce that you've got the small-pox, an there won't be a mother's son of 'em cum within gunshot of you. then you kin fix your messige, put in that patent pivot, and grease things up generally, so they'll run another year without teching." the kernel sed there was no other way than to do it. when it got out that the kernel had the small-pox, you never see sech a calm. the white house was nigh about deserted, an it seemed like a sunday up in maine. the kernel then set rite down to his messige, an worked like a beever. he sed he could allers soon put a thing in shape after the foundashin timbers were laid. and so he did. wen he got it finished, he called seward and red it to him. he sed it was capital. then he sent for chase, an he sed it was all rite. "no," ses i, "kernel, send for a war dimmycrat, an see how he'll like it." wen i sed this, the kernel laffed rite out. ses he, "majer, you're jokin; i know you are." ses he, "the war dimmycrats remind we of a story about bar-huntin out west. old josh muggin had a young dog wich was very fierce for bars. so one day he tuk him along in a hunt. in the very first fite the bar bit the dog's tail off, and away he run yelpin an barkin like mad, an josh could never get his dog to fite bars after that. now, it is jest so with the war dimmycrats. they were very fierce to fite me if i issued my emancipashin proclamashin, but i did it, an by so doin, _i cut their tails off_, and they have never showed any fite agin me sence, an they won't. no--i rally wish i hadn't eny more trubbil on hand than the war dimmycrats will give me." ses i, "kernel, i think you are rather hard on the war dimmycrats. they supported you because they thought you was tryin to restore the union; but now, wen they read your messige and see that you won't have the union back enyhow, they will say you deceived 'em, and you may find 'em the most trubbelsum customers you've yet had to deal with. they ment to sustain the government, but now wen they see that _you_ won't sustain it, they may turn on you wus than the copperheds have;" and ses i, "kernel, you jist get the dimmycrat's united, and i shudn't wonder if they wud be after this, and then let all your miss-nancy abolishinists look out, for there won't be as much left of em as there was of bill peeler's dog after his panther fite." ses the kernel, ses he, "how much was that?" "wal," ses i, "bill always sed there warn't nothin left but the collar he hed round his neck, and the tip eend of his tale, about an inch long." "wal," ses the kernel, "i've got to go ahed, no matter who don't like it, or who gits licked in the fite. i'me in the abolishin bote, and you can't stop it now eny more than you kin put lake superior in a quart bottle." ses i, "go ahed, kernel; i allers like to see a man bold and strong on his own principles. there's nothin like pluck. let everybody know jist what you mean, and then if they support you it is their own fault." "wal," ses he, "ain't i plain enuf this time?" "yes," ses i, "kernel, all but the amnesty part--that's kinder petty-fogy." "wal," ses he, "majer, men that can't see a hole through a ladder ought to be humbugged." ses i, "mebby that's so, but we shall all know more about who is humbugged and who isn't, after the war is over." but i never did see people so tickled over the messige as the republikins all are. they say it is jest the thing--that it is goin to wipe out slavery, and prevent the "union as it was" ever being restored; and then it is dun so cutely that a good menny people won't see through it. that amnesty dodge throws dust in their eyes, and kinder sounds generous like. there's a great fite coming off among the abolishinists about who's to be run for next president, and i think i'll hev some news for you afore long. enyhow, i shall keep my eyes open as ushil. yourn, till deth, majer jack downing. letter xxx. _the major visits parson blair--the loyal leagues of the white house--a wonderful dream--the grave of the union--the president don't like it--about leather--how the capital looks._ washinton, jan. 30, 1864. _to the editers of the dabook:_ surs:--i spose your readers think i'm dead, or mebby they think i've run away with a pile of greenbacks, as that is kinder fashionabul now-a-days; but i aint in neithur fix. the rale truth is that after i writ you my last letter i got completely disgusted and cum mitey nigh goin back hum to downingville, and vowin i would never return to this sink of sin agin. but the kernel got at me and begged i wouldn't think of it. i telled him i couldn't stay in the white house over new years, and see the knaves and fools that would be there then. so jest before christmas, as good luck happened, old fathur blair axed me to go down to his place at silvur springs and stay ovur the hollidays. i tell you i was rale glad, fur the old man has got a fine place, and i could have it so quiet and cozy there aftur my hard work ovur the message. when i got there i was tuk down with the rumatiz, and had to keep my room for more than two weeks. howevur, the kernel sent me some prime old rye, and that, together with some operdildock that old aunt keziah wiggleton sent to me by my nefu zeke put me on my pins agin. old father blair and i had long talks about ginneral jackson and the kernel, the war, niggers, the next presidency, and so on. my old friend blair was a grate man in ginneral jackson's time, but the trubbel with him now is that he don't move along with the world. he actually thinks that he is yet fitin calhoun, an havin got in the bote with the abolishenists, he don't know how to get out. last week i cum back to see the kernel, and have been looking around for a few days to see how the land lay. i find that the principel idee in everybody's hed is, who's to be the next president. but i tell you when i look at the condishun of the country, it makes me sick to talk about a president. what is the use of a president when there's a standin army? what is the use of a president when the ballot-box aint of half so much account as the cartridge-box? the first day i got back to the white house there was a lot of loyel legers and shoddy contractors cum to tell the kernel that they had nominated him for president. after they went out linkin ses to me, ses he, "majer, what do you think of them fellows?" "wal," ses i, "they look to me mean enough to steal niggers." the kernel did not say anything, but looked kinder cross-eyed at me. the kernel and i then had a long talk about matters and things, and after taking a good swig of old rye, went to bed. that nite i had a wonderful dream. the next mornin, when i went in the room where the kernel was, ses he, "majer, you look oncommon serious this mornin; what's the matter?" "wal," ses i, "i had a wonderful dream last nite, that eenamost frightened me to deth." "wal," ses he, "what on earth was it?" "wal," ses i, "if i tell you the hull of it jest as it appeared to me, you musn't get mad." "oh," ses the kernel, "i don't keer nothin about dreams, for i allers interpret them by contraries." "wal," ses i, "you can cypher out the meanin of it yourself to suit yourself, but i'll tell it to you jest as it appeared to me, and it seemed to me as plain as if it was broad daylight." "wal," ses i, "i thought i was in the grave-yard, and there was a great big grave dug, large enough to hold four or five coffins, and while i was standing there wonderin what on earth the grave was for, i saw a big black hearse comin, and stantin was driving it. that kinder startled me; but i looked agin, and i see it was bein drawn by them war dimmycrats, dickinson, butler, meagher, cochrane, and the hearse itself was marked 'war dimmycracy.' when stantin druv up to the grave, ses he, 'my jack-=asses had a heavy load, but they pulled it through bravely,' for the poor war dimmycrats had heads of men on the bodies of mules. i wondered what on airth could be in the hearse, for it seemed to be heavily loaded. right behind the hearse, walkin along, were you and sumner, and greeley, and chase, and beecher, and old grandfather welles. pretty soon you all went to work takin out the coffins, and gettin ready to put them in the grave. the first one tuk out was marked 'habeas corpus,' the second one 'trial by jury,' then 'the union,' and then 'the constitution.' when they were all out on the ground, some dispute riz as to which should be buried first, but greeley cut it short by sayin, 'put the constitution under, and all else follows.' so greeley got the rope under one end of the coffin and sumner under the other, and begun to let it down. while it was goin down, you looked kinder anxious at chase, and ses you, 'chase, think it will stay down?' and old greenbacks, ses he, 'my god, kernel, it must stay _down_, or we will all go _up_.' greeley was tickled eenamost to death, and ses he, 'we shall bury it now so that it shall never be heerd of agin.' old grandfather welles, however, seemed half frightened to deth, and trembled like a sick dog, and ses, 'oh! that it was all over.' sumner was wrathy at this, and ses he, 'shut up, you old fool; wait until it is all under.' and there, too, stood beecher, with a nigger baby in his arms, lookin up to heaven and prayin all the while, as follows: 'oh! lord, not thy will but _mine_ be done.' finally, all the coffins were put in the grave and covered up. i wondered where seward could be all this time, and lookin up, there he was, flyin through the air with wings, and tails, and horns, lookin for all the world like an evil spirit, and ses he, 'if 'twere done, when it is done,' just as if he was afraid that a day of resurrection was comin. i tell you, it made me feel sorrowful and sad when i saw the old constitution and the union put under the ground, out of sight, and when i woke up, my eyes were full of tears, and i felt more like cryin than i have sence i was born." [illustration: the majer's wonderful dream. the grave of the union.--page 250.] after i got thru, ses i, "kernel, what do you think of my dream?" he looked down on the floor, and then looked up, then he looked down agin and then he looked up. i see he was kinder worried, so i said nothin. finally, he kicked his slipper off, and ses he, "majer, do you know what good lether is?" "wal," ses i, "kernel, i used to know something about lether." "wal," ses he, "what do you think of the lether in that slipper. is it good?" "yes," ses i, "i think it's pretty good." "wal," ses he, "what kind is it?" ses i, "it's calf-skin." "wal," ses he, "kin you tell me whether the calf _was a heifer or a steer_?" "no," ses i, "i can't." "wal," ses he, "i'm in jist the same fix about your dream. it is a good dream, but i can't tell whether it's a heifer or a steer. but i ruther reckon it's a _steer_!" "wal," ses i, "kernel, you may think that my dream don't amount to anythin, but there are thousands of people who will see in it the fate of their country." he didn't seem disposed to talk about it, however, and i let it drop. since then i've been over to the capitol once or twice, and looked around washington a leetle. i never see such a change in a place since i was born. it's dirtier, nastier, and meaner lookin than ever. in fact, it is just like the country, all goin to ruin. if the devil is ever happy, i think he would be nigh about tickled to deth now-a-days. i guess everything is goin on to suit him to a fracshin. i kin tell you one thing. there is goin to be a bigger fite between linkin and chase for president than most pepil suppose. so look out for the musick ahed. i shall keep a watch on all the doins, and write you when the rumatiz, like the greenback market, aint too stringent. majer jack downing. the illustrated pocket library of plain and coloured books the history of johnny quæ genus what various views of our uncertain state these playful, unassuming rhymes relate! anon. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus on his journey to london.] the history of johnny quæ genus the little foundling of the late doctor syntax a poem by the author of the three tours with twenty-four coloured illustrations by thomas rowlandson a new edition methuen & co. london 1903 note this issue is founded on the edition published by r. ackermann in the year 1822 history of quæ genus, etc. the favour which has been bestowed on the different tours of doctor syntax, has encouraged the writer of them to give a history of the foundling, who has been thought an interesting object in the latter of those volumes; and it is written in the same style and manner, with a view to connect it with them. this child of chance, it is presumed, is led through a track of life not unsuited to the peculiarity of his condition and character, while its varieties, as in the former works, are represented by the pencil of mr. rowlandson with its accustomed characteristic felicity. the idea of an english gil blas predominated through the whole of this volume; which must be considered as fortunate in no common degree, if its readers, in the course of their perusal, should be disposed to acknowledge even a remote similitude to the incomparable work of _le sage_. the author. preface this prolonged work is, at length, brought to a close.--it has grown to this size, under rare and continuing marks of public favour; while the same mode of composition has been employed in the last, as in the former volumes. they are all equally indebted to mr. rowlandson's talents. it may, perhaps, be considered as presumption in me, and at my age, to sport even with my own dowdy muse, but, from the extensive patronage which doctor syntax has received, it may be presumed that, more or less, he has continued to amuse: and i, surely, have no reason to be dissatisfied, when time points at my eightieth year, that i can still afford some pleasure to those who are disposed to be pleased. the author. _may 1, 1821._ list of the plates journey to london _to face the title_ in search of service _to face p._ 13 relating his history to sir jeffery " 17 at oxford " 42 conflict with lawyer gripe-all " 44 with the sheep-shearers " 59 assisting a traveller " 63 in the sports of the kitchen " 75 in the service of sir jeffery gourmand " 81 with a quack doctor " 139 with a spendthrift " 150 attending on a sporting finale " 162 in the service of a miser " 174 with the money lenders " 179 officiating at a gaming table " 180 with a portrait painter " 188 gives a grand party " 201 interrupts a tête à tête " 203 committed with a riotous dancing party to the watch-house " 212 engaged with jovial friends, or who sings best " 214 the party breaking up and quæ genus breaking down " 220 turned out of a house which he mistakes for his own " 222 with creditors " 229 discovers his father " 248 the history of johnny quæ genus or the foundling of doctor syntax canto i johnny quæ genus! what a name to offer to the voice of fame! (though she 'tis hop'd may condescend to act as little johnny's friend) this may be said, when first the eye does, by a careless glance, descry the striking range of marshall'd words which a gay title-page affords. but what's a name, as shakespeare says, it neither gives nor lessens praise; adds no fresh odour to the rose, nor any other flower that blows: whether with rare or common name the fragrance will be just the same. 'tis not a title can confer the good or ill of character, _howards_ have been both beat and bang'd, and some with ancient names been hang'd: look at a ship with convicts stor'd what noble names are oft on board! it is the living, current course or of the better or the worse, that stamps, whate'er may be the name, or with a good or evil fame. but howsoe'er the thing we view our little johnny's title's new: or for the child or for the man, in an old phrase, 'tis _spick_ and _span_. besides, as most folk do agree to find a charm in novelty, 'tis the first time that grammar rule which makes boys tremble when at school, did with the name an union crave which at the font a sponsor gave. but whether 'twas in hum'rous mood or by some classic whim pursued, or as, in eton's grammar known, it bore relation to his own, syntax, it was at whitsuntide, and a short time before he died, in pleasant humour, after dinner, surnam'd, in wine, the little sinner. and thus, amid the table's roar, } gave him from good, old _lilly's_ store, } a name which none e'er had before. } --'squire worthy, who, perchance was there, promis'd the doctor's wish to share, that want, at least might not annoy the progress of the foundling boy. "--syntax," he said, "we'll try between us to make the fortune of quæ genus: you feed his mind with learning's food, and i'll protect him if he's good." "while i," said smiling _dickey bend_, "will add my mite as _johnny's_ friend; nor shall he want the scraps of knowledge which he can pick up at my college." --thus, as they did the bumper ply to johnny's future destiny, the warm, almost parental heart of mrs. syntax bore its part; and her cheek wore a smile of joy as she beheld th' unconscious boy, who, careless of the kind debate, play'd with the cherries on his plate. but such is life's uncertain hour, and such is fate's tyrannic power, that while our comforts smile around the fatal dart inflicts the wound: thus e'er another month was past syntax, alas! had breath'd his last. whene'er he heard the widow sigh quæ genus wept he scarce knew why: of a kind friend fate had bereft him, and an odd name was all he left him. his urchin fancy only thought as his enquiring mind was taught, that his adopted sire was gone where the good go to worlds unknown, to happy regions plac'd on high above the blue and starry sky, where, he was with the hope endued, that he should go, if he were good. but the good lady took him home and kept him many a year to come; when he grew up a charming youth, in whom simplicity and truth did o'er his ev'ry thought preside; while, with such an anxious guide, life smil'd and seem'd to promise fair, that it would answer to the care which her affection had bestow'd, to set him on his future road: but when she died poor john was hurl'd into a bustling, tricking world. he had, 'tis true, all she could leave; she gave him all there was to give; of all she had she made him heir, but left it to a lawyer's care: no wonder then that he was cheated and her fond anxious hopes defeated: so that instead of his possessing the fruits of her last, dying blessing; he had, as it turn'd out, to rue } what foul rascality could do; } and his own wild vagaries too. } here, gentle reader, here begins the account of our young hero's sins: but all which thus far form'd his fate, quæ genus will himself relate, and what truth bids him to rehearse, my hum-strum muse records in verse. thus i proceed,--my humble strain } has hap'ly pleas'd.----i may be vain,-} but still it hopes to please again. } * * * * * in this great overwhelming town, certain receptacles are known, where both the sexes shew their faces to boast their talents and get places: not such as kings and courts can give, not such as noble folk receive, but those which yield their useful aid to common wants or gen'ral trade, or finely furbish out the show that fashion does on life bestow. here those who want them may apply for toiling powers and industry, on whom the nervous strength's bestow'd to urge the wheel or bear the load. here all who want, may pick and chuse each service of domestic use: the laundry, kitchen, chamber, dairy, may always find an ann or mary, while in th' accommodating room, he who wants coachman, footman, groom, or butler staid, may come and have, with such as know to dress and shave. --the art and skill may here be sought in ev'ry thing that's sold and bought, in all the well spread counter tells of knowledge keen in yards and ells; adepts in selling and in buying and perfect in the modes of lying; who flatter misses in their teens, and harangue over bombazeens, can, in glib words, nor fear detection, arrange each colour to complexion: can teach the beau the neckcloth's tie, with most becoming gravity; or with a consequential air, turn up the collar to a hair. --besides, your nice shop-women too, may at a call be brought to view, who, with swift fingers, so bewitching, are skill'd in ev'ry kind of stitching; can trim the hat, arrange the bonnet, and place the tasty ribbon on it. in short, here all to service bound, may in their various shapes be found. --from such who may display their charms, by smirking looks and active arms, to those in kitchen under ground amid black pots and kettles found: from such as teach the early rules, or in the male or female schools, to those of an inferior breed, who ne'er have known to write or read: from those who do the laws perplex in toil at an attorney's desk, to such as pass their busy lives in cleaning shoes or cleaning knives. to these, perhaps, an added score } might swell the tiresome list or more, } but here description says, "give o'er." } in such enregistering shop one morn a figure chanc'd to pop; (but here i beg it may be guess'd, of these same shops it was the best, his hat was rather worse for wear, } his clothing, too, was somewhat bare, } his boots might say, "we've travell'd far." } his left hand an umbrella bore and something like a glove he wore: clean was his very sun-burnt skin without a long hair on his chin, while his lank face, in ev'ry feature, proclaim'd a keen, discerning nature; and when he spoke there was an air } of something not quite common there: } his manner good, his language fair. } a double cape of curious make, fell from his shoulders down his back, as if art did the folds provide a very awkward hump to hide; but, if 'twere so, the cunning fail'd, for still the treach'rous bunch prevail'd. by chatting here and talking there, he did his curious mind prepare with all the means by which to gain the end his wishes would obtain;- then with half-humble, solemn face, he sought the ruler of the place, who boasted an establish'd fame, and _sharpsight_ was his well-known name. but ere we in our way proceed to tell of many a future deed, it may, we doubt not, be as well, to save all guess-work, just to tell, of the part now upon the stage quæ genus was the personage. fortune's dark clouds, for some time past that learned title had o'ercast, and he had borrow'd names in plenty, he might have gone by more than twenty; but now arriv'd in this great town } without a fear of being known } he thought he might assume his own: } and he had weighty reasons too for what he was about to do, which, we believe, a future page will reconcile as reasons sage. at length his statement he began, when thus the conversation ran. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus, in search of service.] quæ genus. "'tis the first time i e'er applied to ask your counsel for my guide: but strange events have brought me here, and at your desk i now appear, but not without the means to pay, for all you do and all you say. and here, good sir, there's no concealing we must be cautious in our dealing: i want employment that will give means to be honest and to live. such is my warm, heart-felt desire, such is the boon i now require,- and if you do my wishes aid, i tell you sir,--_you shall be paid_." sticking his pen behind his ear and with a keen enquiring leer, _sharpsight_ the curious figure view'd, and thus the important talk pursued. sharpsight. "in answer to your just desire, permit me fairly to enquire, which to my ledger is transmitted, for what your qualities are fitted? and, in good faith, i wish to know, what you have done, and what can do? nay, to whose word i may refer for your good name and character. such is essential to the case, such are the first steps to a place, of whate'er kind that place may be, whether of high or low degree; without them no access to station, no character, no situation. --what you assert, you say is true, i'm sure, my friend, i wish so too: for what you ask, as you describe, is ask'd by all the serving tribe: 'tis that to which they all pretend, but those i never can commend in honour to my own good name, } and to this room's establish'd fame, } but what the rigid truth may claim. } though as you look this place around, but common folk are to be found: coachmen who sit without a whip; footmen, without a call to skip; gardeners who have lost their spade, and journeymen without a trade; clerks whose pens have long been idle; with grooms quite dull, who ask a bridle; cooks who exclaim for roast and boil'd, and nurs'ry-maids without a child; young, sprightly girls who long to clamber from drawing-rooms to upper chamber, ready the drudg'ry to assail of scrubbing-brush, and mop and pail; stout porters who for places tarry, whose shoulders ache for loads to carry; but character they must maintain, or here they come, and pay in vain. in short, were i to count them o'er, i could name twenty kinds or more, who patient and impatient wait about this busy, crowded gate. --but you might higher claimants see within this crowded registry, who do not at the desk appear, nor e'er are seen in person here; but they are charged a larger fee, both for success and secrecy. thus you must see how much depends, to gain your object and your ends, that you should truly let me know what you have done,--what you can do; and i, once more, beg to refer to your good name and character." quæ genus. "i do profess i can engage with noble, simple, and with sage. though young as yet, i've been so hurl'd about what you would call the world, that well i know it, yet 'tis true, i can be very honest too. --of the good name which you demand, i tell you--i've not one at hand. of friends, i once had ample store, but those fair, prosp'rous days are o'er, and i must mourn it to my cost that friends are dead, and gone, and lost; but if to conscience 'tis referr'd, my conscience says, sir, take his word. --of character, though i have none, perhaps, sir, i can purchase one: i, from a corner of my coat, may just pluck out a pretty note; which, with a view to gain an end, might, in an urgent want, befriend. now, if to place me, you contrive, } where i may have a chance to thrive; } i'll give this note, if i'm alive. } it may be rather worth your while; perhaps it may awake a smile." _sharpsight_ appear'd to look astray, but still he took a glance that way. "i'm not," he said, "to be beguil'd;" though when he glanc'd that way, he _smil'd_, and, turning to the other side, in a calm, soften'd tone replied. sharpsight. "here money is not that way earn'd, my reputation is concern'd; but still i can my duty do, and strive to be a friend to you. _sir jeff'ry gourmand_ you may suit; a knight renown'd, of high repute, as all who know his name can tell, for being rich and living well; a gen'rous man, but full of whim, and you may be the thing for him: in such a way your case i'll mention as shall awaken his attention. and now, my worthy friend, i pray, mind well what i'm about to say: without a creature to refer or for good name or character, and in a state which seems to be involv'd in awkward mystery; and i shall add, with your excuse for the remark which i must use, that either accident or nature has, on your back, plac'd such a feature, that were you e'en my dearest friend, i dare not such an one commend to any lady worth a groat, unless to serve the dame for nought. --just turn around, and you may see a lady in deep scrutiny, with a nice quizzing-glass in hand, glancing across a liv'ried band; and once a month she does appear on this domestic errand here. if of a maid she wants the use, her woman comes to pick and chuse; but if a man,--she is so nice, she comes herself to make the choice. a widow rich, who gives high wages, if they should please, whom she engages: but he must be of such a size, and look so well in her keen eyes, that she scarce one in twenty sees fit to wear her rich liveries. there's one who has a squinting eye- i know full well she'll pass him by; on one poor rogue she'll turn her back because his frightful beard is black; another will not eat her bread because his frizzled crop is red; these are too weak,--and those too strong, and some an inch too short or long: she'll take the best-made of the bunch, but would be fainting at a hunch. --thus then, according to my plan, _sir jeff'ry gourmand_ is the man; but to his questions pray reply without the veil of mystery: your story from your very youth, if he should ask it--tell the truth; your errors fail not to unfold- in telling them be firm, be bold; while you your better virtues own, e'en let your mischiefs all be known, but let not folly blazen forth whate'er you have of conscious worth; express the ill with down-cast eye, and veil the good with modesty; though, if you can with prudence poke into your tale a funny joke, fear not, 'tis what his humour loves, as his own daily chit-chat proves; and while he does his bev'rage quaff, at what he says--be sure you laugh. but should you not his service suit, he will not play the churlish brute; and if not gone too far astray, may serve you in some other way. thus you must see i do my best- to fortune i shall leave the rest: but now i see _sir jeff'ry_ enter, and i must leave you to your venture." _sharpsight_ then after humbly greeting this huge man-mountain of good eating, for a few minutes in his ear, told that which he alone could hear. the knight then cast a curious eye on johnny, who was standing by, and just enquir'd from whence he came, what was his age, and what his name; whom he had serv'd, and why he left the place of which he was bereft? [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus reading to sir jeffery gourmand.] quæ genus. "if, sir, it were not thought too free, if i might take the liberty, i would not wish you here to wait while i my strange condition state, as it would take an hour or more, my various story to explore; tho' 'tis not such, that i should fear the tale to tell or you to hear: you, who will kind allowance make for wants that press, and hearts that ache, and passions that restraint disdain when justice sues, and sues in vain; and 'tis to that tale i refer for name, for age and character, whom i have serv'd, and what the scene where my frail manhood's years have been: and if you will but condescend to my young hist'ry to attend, and will not the fond hope deny me, that you, good sir, will take and try me, and let my rude, misgotten shape from your observance to escape, you will command,--i will obey; when you may see from day to day, how far, sir, i may make pretence to your good grace and confidence." "then be it so," the knight replied, "i trust i may be satisfied. i'm told there's something droll about you, but droll'ry will not make me scout you; nor do i mind, my friend, the pack, which you now wear upon your back: we're rather equal on that score- your's is behind, and mine's before; nay, when of both i take a view, mine is the larger of the two." quæ genus, with a ready grace, lifted his hat to hide his face; but still he so arrang'd the screen that his gay visage might be seen; which seem'd to burst as from the hit of the fat knight's spontaneous wit, who chuckled first, and then made known his further will to laughing john. sir jeffery. "be punctual;--at the hour of ten we will, to-morrow, meet again; when i will hear, without delay, the whole which you have got to say: but know, you will offend my feeling if you should shuffle from plain dealing. i'm serious now:--on that depends, how far we may continue friends." quæ genus fail'd not, at the hour, to pass _sir jeff'ry's_ chamber door; where, seated in a cushion'd chair as large as some post-chaises are, and though it may be strange to tell, the knight contriv'd to fill it well; he seem'd attentive to peruse the pages of the daily news: when, with a look and with a loll, as if he thought on something droll, and in a sort of pleasant glee, he thus commenc'd the colloquy.-sir jeffery. "first, i must ask to know your name, your parentage, and whence you came; and when these trifling things are past, the master whom you liv'd with last." quæ genus. "quæ genus, is the name i bear." sir jeffery. "quæ genus? 'tis a name so rare, it never met my ear or eye, if i can trust my memory. i mean the surname that you own, by which your family is known: not what your sponsor's pedant hammer beat into use from lilly's grammar. i want your father's name."-quæ genus. "'twere well! if i that honour'd name could tell; i must suppose that such a creature was form'd in her own way, by nature! that i had parents must be true; a father and a mother too, but who they were i never heard, nor has the secret yet appear'd: they're known to heaven,--but to me my birth's a perfect mystery: though this i'm sure that i can tell- it was not worth a miracle." sir jeffery. "by whom, then, was quæ genus given?" quæ genus. "by one who is a saint in heaven; if ever mortal beings go to bliss above, from ills below: this i believe, nay i would swear, that such is his allotment there; and i would kiss the book i trow, the holy book that tells me so. a grammar title was his own, and therefore 'twas--he gave me one: 'twas doctor syntax, and i'm proud that 'tis to him the name i ow'd." sir jeffery. "i knew him not, but this i know, what pleasure to his works i owe; and you will meet my partial whim- prove that you e'er belong'd to him. treasur'd within that curtain'd case, his works possess a favour'd place; and if the binding aught can tell, they show that i respect them well. go, take a volume down, and look- perhaps, my friend, you know the book." quæ genus. "i know it well, as you will see, it tells my infant history: this leaf will partly save the task of answ'ring what you're pleas'd to ask. that little infant whom you see } in basket laid,--that, sir, is me, } now grown to sad maturity. } --it was within an inn of court, where busy lawyers plead and sport; upon those stairs and thus enclos'd, my new-born figure was expos'd. of mercy they had little share } whose cruel purpose plac'd me there, } and left me to the lawyer's care; } for, had th' attorney been in town, who did those very chambers own, i doubt what might have been my fate: the thing was strange--the hour was late; the work-house might be distant far, and dubious been the nursings there. but one, perchance, possess'd the floor when i was laid beside the door, who would have felt a crying sin had he not ta'en the stranger in. when i this pictur'd figure view, so innocent--so helpless too, a smile's contending with a tear, on seeing what i now appear: a pretty figure for a casket,- a little falstaff in the basket." sir jeffery. "further of this you need not tell, i know the curious story well; at least as far as there appears in what regards your infant years, and all that did your fate betide, till your good friend the doctor died. --but now,--of _masters_ name the last whom you have serv'd for some time past." quæ genus. "_masters_, an' please you, i had none, and _mistresses_, i had but one: indeed, sir, it may not be civil, but o, she is a very devil, which i am sure you will allow soon as you come her name to know, tho' oft and oft, and o'er and o'er, you must have heard it spoke before, but not in any pressing hour have you been subject to her power. it might not be a thing of course but i her servant was perforce, for sure as my name is quæ genus there seem'd a contract made between us; and her sad service i must rue, if i come not to live with you; with her i must continue still, if it proves not your gen'rous will, to receive me, sir, from her with what she gives of character, for she sometimes can make pretence to ask heart-felt benevolence." sir jeffery. "this is most strange, i do declare! } but pray what figure did she bear } while you th' unwilling servant were?" } quæ genus. "an ever-varying form she wore, as ever changeful proteus bore: but or in motion she, or still; her ev'ry hour is mark'd with ill. she looks best pleas'd when sorrow flows, she can disdain when virtue bows: labour and penury and pain and sad disease compose her train, while vain complaint and discontent form her pale-fac'd establishment." sir jeff'ry now let loose a smile as if some fancy did beguile and play upon his easy thought, with light, amusive mischief fraught; and this sarcastic question prov'd the pleasantry _sir jeff'ry_ lov'd. "when she was in a spiteful humour, what said she of that _pretty tumour_? the which without a wish to pry, must sometimes meet her wand'ring eye. did she ne'er stroke your circling back, nor e'er salute it with a smack; or when she was dispos'd to sneer compare it to a hemisphere, deck it with sun and moon and stars, with venus, mercury and mars, or cover with her liv'ry's robe the continents of half the globe; or like an atlas, did she flout you as you bore half the world about you, when you might show it as a sight, and gain no common profit by't; blend with the panorama's skill, in all the pride of printed bill, deliver'd with a ready hand through leic'ster-fields or in the strand." the knight's loud laughter then succeeded,- and johnny laughing too, proceeded. "how happy you who thus can joke and wrap me in your funny cloak, nay, when your mirth, sir, may think fit, can fill my crooked back with wit; can even make me almost proud, of that self-same prepost'rous load. you may, perhaps, be not aware, but 'tis the truth which i declare, i would serve you for half the wages which common servitude engages, provided you would pay the rest in such nice puns and merry jest; i would with joy sign the receipt, for half in cash, and half in wit." "well, well, go on," _sir jeff'ry_ said, while his glad, twinkling eyes betray'd, how much quæ genus pleas'd his fancy at this so flatt'ring necromancy. --while the knight his cold coffee quaffing, but still at his own fancies laughing, exclaim'd, "proceed, but be it known, } i wish the lady's hist'ry done, } and then you will conclude your own." } quæ genus. "when she first knew me she could see a form as strait as poplar tree, then i was ruddy, fair and plump, nor was my back crown'd with a hump, of which you may not be aware, for hang the hag, she plac'd it there, and you, good sir, shall shortly know, how to her power the gift i owe." sir jeffery. "the more i hear, the more i see, the more you deal in mystery. this mistress, sure, of which you tell, is an incomprehensible! a widow she, or is she wedded? or e'er by blushing hymen bedded?" quæ genus. "o no, sir, no.--she is more common than is the worst street-walking woman. there's scarce a mortal about town to whom this mistress is not known; and if the track i should pursue, i might add in the country too. but 'tis a keen wit that unravels the wide extent of all her travels; nor time nor space has she to spare, she's here and there and ev'ry where. though if i at a guess may venture beneath this roof she will not enter, unless, as you the chance may see, the saucy minx comes here with me." sir jeffery. "but one more question i've to ask, ere you perform your promis'd task, and tell me from all shuffling free, the items of your history, up to the moment when you stand a candidate for my command. and now quæ genus tell the name of this same universal dame, whom you, poor fellow, have been serving, and, as you state it, almost starving. --if in your tale she does agree, it is a tale of mystery; some fairy fable, i suppose, that paints, in emblems, human woes, and does in figur'd words, apply to your peculiar history. it is not in the usual way that such as you their state display; it is not in such borrow'd guise that they unfold their histories, with here and there a little bit of droll'ry to shew off their wit; it is not in this form i see those who may wear my livery; but your's i feel a diff'rent case from those who come to seek a place; or when the register may send him, with, 'sir, we beg to recommend him.' i now bethink me of the sage who lov'd you in your tender age; and when i see you have a claim } to share the page that marks his fame, } syntax, that highly honour'd name } a passport is, my good quæ genus, to the familiar talk between us. from that relation which you share, no longer stand, but take a chair, and now proceed, without delay, to close the tale in your own way. "and once again, i ask the name of this so universal dame; what is her fortune,--where she lives, and the strange means by which she thrives? where she acquires her wond'rous power, which you describe, o'er ev'ry hour? where it began, my curious friend; then tell me, pray, when it will end." with due respect, as was requir'd, he took the chair for he was tir'd, and calling truth to be his guide, he thus in solemn tone replied. quæ genus. "miss-fortune is the name she bears, her rent-roll's form'd of sighs and tears: she doth not live or here or there, i fear, sir, she lives ev'ry where. i'm sure that i know not the ground where her sad influence is not found; but if a circle should appear } beyond her arbitrary sphere, } i feel and hope, sir, it is here. } --this worn-out coat, sir, which you see, is the kind lady's livery: i once was fat, but now am thin, made up of nought but bone and skin; i once was large but now am small, from feeding in her servants'-hall, and the hump i shall ever bear is an example of her care. as for the blessed dame's beginning, i've heard that it began in sinning, and i have learn'd that she will end when this vile world has learn'd to mend; but if we guess when that may be, we may guess to eternity." "miss-fortune!! heav'ns! o thus she's nam'd," the knight, with uplift eyes exclaim'd. "o the dull head, not to have seen what the _finale_ must have been!" then clasping hands and chuckling first into a bellowing laugh he burst, though not to his broad face confin'd, but on each side, before, behind, it seem'd as if his whimsies bound him, in a joyous circle round him: his belly trembles, his sides ache, and the great-chair scarce stands the shake. 'twas a hoarse, deep bass, note of mirth, to which his fancy thus gave birth; and johnny fail'd not to come after an octave higher in his laughter, while his delight appear'd to speak in somewhat of a treble squeak.- thus, for some minutes they enjoy'd the _duo_ which their nerves employ'd. _sir jeff'ry_ shook his head awhile, then spoke with a complacent smile. "though in a diff'ring point of view, } i know her just as well as you; } and hang the hag she plagues me too. } need i, good fellow, need i tell ye, she deck'd me out with this great belly; 'tis she, by way of friendly treat, has given this pair of gouty feet; nay sometimes when her whim commands _miss-fortune_ robs me of my hands: 'tis she with her intention vile that makes me overflow with bile; and tho' my table's spread with plenty of ev'ry nice and costly dainty, she sometimes envies me a bite, and takes away my appetite. she does not meddle with my wealth, but then she undermines my health; she never in my strong box looks, nor pries into my banker's books; my ample fortune i contrive to guard with care and make it thrive, i check her power to destroy it, but then she says, 'you sha'n't enjoy it; i will take care you shall endure the ills and pains gold cannot cure.' or leagu'd with wrinkled age at least, she strives to interrupt the feast. --but with her malice i contend, where she's a foe, i'm oft a friend, and, with the weapons i can wield, i sometimes drive her from the field. nay when she does the victim clasp, i snatch it from her cruel grasp. and thus you see, or more or less, i make her prove my happiness." quæ genus. "there was indeed a time when i knew her but by warm sympathy with those who did her burthen bear, which i have since been forc'd to share; but this, at least, i'm pleas'd to own, and 'tis a truth to you well known, nay, this i'll say, in others' breast, where'er the virtue is possess'd, she does, as i have felt, and see, awake benign humanity." sir jeffery. "and she shall 'wake it now, quæ genus! an instant contract's made between us. i break that which she made with you, and gladly you abjure it too. i have no doubt, my friend, to venture; into my service you shall enter, your ills at present shall be o'er, _miss-fortune_ you shall serve no more. at least, i say, while you contrive by your good deeds with me to live: i'll save you from your late disaster and change your mistress for a master. i want no bowings, no grimaces, no blessings that i've chang'd your places. --i now remind you to relate all that has been your various fate, nay, all that you have ever known, since time and freedom were your own. --i tell you, _johnny_, speak the truth; i know what follies wait on youth: i know where erring passion leads, on what a slipp'ry ground it treads: i can remember that i fail'd when the gay, tempting world prevail'd; nor shall i now the thought conceal, which reason tells me to reveal. what heaven forgives should be forgiven by all who look with hope tow'rds heaven: but i expect not faults alone, } i trust in what you may have done, } there may work out a little fun. } --if i guess right your lively eye } was not exactly made to cry, } but sometimes call forth pleasantry; } of diff'ring thoughts to ope the vein, let pleasure forth or lessen pain. but still do not your mischiefs hide, throughout your tale, be truth your guide; nor make _miss-fortune_ though she starves, worse, by the bye, than she deserves, for after all her misdeeds past, the dame may do you good at last. --deceive me, and you will offend, deceive me, and you lose a friend: try to deceive me and again you'll join _miss-fortune's_ pale-fac'd train. proceed then, and, without a fear, } pour thy misdoings in my ear } and i will with indulgence hear. } i'll not discard you for the evil, though you should prove a little devil, though to your hump you should not fail, to add your horns and hoofs and tail; though you should prove a bag of sin, and hump'd without be hump'd within, here you shall have your home, your food; kick at _miss-fortune_, and be good." he spoke, then rang the shrill-ton'd bell, which did its well-known message tell.- a tray appear'd, and well prepar'd, which _johnny_ with _sir jeff'ry_ shar'd. when, waving his beflannell'd hand, the knight thus utter'd his command. "and now, thou little imp of sin, without a compliment begin." quæ genus. "the volume that now lies before ye, tells you thus far, sir, of my story; which would be upon this occasion a work of supererogation; though i shall beg leave to repeat, i'm not the new-born of the street; but as it never yet appear'd, at least, as i have ever heard, to such unknown, unfather'd heirs, i am a foundling of _the stairs_, without a mark upon the dress, by which there might be form'd a guess, whether i should the offspring prove of noble or of vulgar love; whether thus left in inn of court where lawyers live of ev'ry sort; love in a deep full-bottom clad, gave me a grave black-letter'd dad, who, if 'twere so, might not agree to have a child without a fee; and, therefore, would not plead my cause, but left me to the vagrant laws of chance, who did not do amiss, but sued in _formâ pauperis_, and, in a court where mercy reign'd, the little foundling's cause was gain'd: syntax was judge, and pity's power sav'd me in that forsaken hour. he with that truly christian spirit, which heaven gave him to inherit, fondly embrac'd me as his own; but ere three transient years were gone, i lost my friend, but found another, a father he, and she, a mother; for such at least they both have prov'd, and as their child the stranger lov'd. o, rest her soul!--to her 'tis given to share his happy lot in heaven. i seem'd to be her utmost pride, and johnny trotting by her side, fill'd with delight her glancing eye in warm affection's sympathy. this fond, this kind, this fost'ring friend did to my ev'ry want attend; her only fault, she rather spoil'd as he grew up, the darling child; but though her care was not confin'd or to his body, or his mind, though, with a fond parental view, she gave to both th' attention due, ne'er would she her displeasure fix on his most wild, unlucky tricks. so that at church he held grave airs, pronounc'd amen, and said his pray'rs, and on a sunday evening read a sermon ere they went to bed, throughout the week, he was quite free for mischief with impunity. --if on the folk i squirted water, how she would shake her sides with laughter; if the long-rotten eggs were thrown at mary, sally, or at joan; if any stinging stuff was put into the hasty trav'ller's boot; if the sly movement of the heel should overturn the spinning-wheel. --if holly plac'd beside the rose should wound the gay sheep-shearer's nose, or 'neath the tail a thorn-bush pricking, should set dame dobbins' mare a kicking, and overthrow the market load, while beans and peas o'erspread the road, if the poor injur'd made complaint to madam of her wily saint, she would reply, 'pray cease your noise, these are the tricks of clever boys, it is my pleasant johnny's fun, tell me the damage, and have done.' --when i became a rosy boy, my growth encreas'd her growing joy; but now such gamesome hours were o'er i play'd my childish tricks no more. my little heart 'gan to beat high, and with heroic ardor try the tempting danger to pursue, and do what others could not do: i sought to climb the highest tree, where none would dare to follow me, or the gay sporting horse to ride, which no school-fellow dare bestride. my feats were sometimes rather scaring, but the dame lov'd to see me daring; as by my running, leaping, walking, i us'd to set the parish talking, and, to the good old women's wonder, i fear'd not lightning nor thunder. she thought, in future time, my name } by some achievement bold, might claim } a loud blast in the trump of fame. } "when, as a youth, how great the charm to lean upon his willing arm, or when she wish'd to take the air, to guide her poney in the chair; to fetch her book, to place her stool, or bear the _laden ridicule:_ to chat, to laugh, to sing, to read, as whims or wishes might succeed: and i am proud to make it known her ev'ry pleasure was my own; and all to please her i could do, was joy, as it was duty too. "here now my better story ends- so far, i trust, sir, we are friends: but i could almost wish me dumb, when i must tell of what's to come." _sir jeffery_, half-laughing, said, "_johnny_, i pray, be not afraid, whate'er your luckless wit has done, i swear i will set down in fun; by me, your sins shall be forgiven as sure as mercy is in heaven." quæ genus. "then, at your pleasure i proceed, nor will i hide a single deed; there is but one i doubt to own, but that to you shall be made known, and will with you securely rest as in my own uneasy breast; though i'm afraid of vengeful laws as i believe without a cause. indeed, i have contriv'd to play the very fool for many a day, but brief, be sure, i'll strive to be in this my early history. "and here, an' please you, sir, begins the tale of my mishaps--the chapter of my sins." canto ii it may seem queer when 'tis the will of fate, its wishes to fulfil, to call the culprit to the bar, one born beneath a luckless star, and from his urging conscience tell the truths that on his mem'ry dwell, when, like a checquer they display the black and white to open day. thus, as the truth he's bound to state, the former may preponderate; while, in a happy moment bold, he may some conscious good unfold, nor can the awkward task refuse both to applaud and to accuse. --such thoughts as these might be the cause, why poor quæ genus made a pause. "well," said _sir jeff'ry_, "pray go on, or never will your tale have done: i've told you, and you must attend; you tell your story to a friend, who will, whatever may appear, with kindness and compassion hear." quæ genus. "your pardon, sir, i will proceed, nor stop till i've perform'd the deed. --thus, so far fortune deck'd with smiles the season which our youth beguiles, and gave the hope of added measure to gay delight and solid pleasure: but while the merry song went round, and to the tabor's lively sound, the village did in cadence beat, with all its many twinkling feet, pale fate appear'd, in cypress wreath, and call'd out for the dance of death: when my dear friend, who gave the feast, and cheer'd with smiles each happy guest, was borne away, i scarce knew why, but i was told,--it was to die. and soon, alas! i wond'ring saw all govern'd by a man of law, with whom she seldom converse held, but when her private cares compell'd some petty, trifling, legal aid, which coolly she discharg'd and paid. 'twas by this man's exulting side i walk'd along and sobb'd and sigh'd when she was carried to the bourne from whence we mortals ne'er return. --i was by all around approv'd, and by the better neighbours lov'd, while i in ev'ry eye could see the pity that was felt for me. by her death-bed he held the quill that made him master of her will, while a round sum was written there to pay him for the tender care which he of her sweet boy would take, for her's and her dear husband's sake. husband! whom this same man of law, this forging rascal never saw: indeed by many it was thought he put his name where he ought not. it much surpriz'd each curious friend, and quite astonish'd _doctor bend_, whose rev'rend titles should have been where the foul lawyer's name was seen. wrong was suspected, counsel had, but no objection could be made, and by all forms of law allied, the will was shap'd and testified: the attorney to his duties swore, so he became executor. 'tis true she left her all to me, but here and there a legacy; though, such were this strange will's commands through _lawyer gripe-all's_ grasping hands, all was to pass and there remain till i the age of man attain; and if i chanc'd to die before,- the lawyer was to take the store. all saw, or all believ'd the cheat, but the law veil'd the base deceit, and when the doctor came to see how justice might be done to me, on due reflection, thought it fit, as things were order'd, to submit; told me, at present, to be quiet, to seem content, nor breed a riot, but when i truely crav'd a friend, i knew the home of _dickey bend_; then with affection's warmth caress'd me, and, with a parent's blessing, bless'd me. "from that dear cottage now i mov'd, where i such tender fondness prov'd; from a calm scene of taste refin'd, and all that could improve the mind; where daily blessings were bestow'd from all the humble neighbourhood; where heart-felt goodness was employ'd, and social harmony enjoy'd;- from these quæ genus was transferr'd to where the daily curse was heard, where the law's promise was delay'd, and money for injustice paid; or a loud, base, malignant joy, which the law's triumphs might employ;- to an old house that stood alone, with ivy and with moss o'ergrown, and where the practiser of laws did his foul deeds 'mid bats and daws; nay, which, as fame reports, was worse, the house was saddled with a curse, that _gripe-all_, in the law's despite, had robb'd some widow of her right, and, by his cutting and his carving, had got the house--and left her starving. "oft i my loss, in secret, wept, and when my eyelids should have slept, nay, when those eyelids should have clos'd and i in strength'ning sleep repos'd, they remain'd wakeful oft and shed their dews upon my troubled bed. though master _gripe-all_, it was known shew'd me a kindness not his own; and did with all indulgence treat me, as the best means, at length, to cheat me. he strove my early grief to soothe, call'd me his dear, delightful youth; gave me a pretty horse to ride, with money in my purse beside; let me employ the taylor's art to deck me out and make me smart, let me just study when i pleas'd, nor e'er my mind with learning teas'd. but still a gnawing discontent prey'd on me wheresoe'er i went. --of phillis too i was bereft, one real pleasure that was left: a fav'rite spaniel of my friend, that did on all my steps attend, at eve was frisking, fond and gay, } but on the sad succeeding day, } a poison'd, swollen form it lay. } it might be chance, but while i griev'd, the following letter i received, which was thrown o'er a hedge the while i sat half weeping on a stile. the writer i could never tell; but he who wrote it meant me well; and i've no doubt that it contain'd the thoughts which through the country reign'd." letter. "_i'm a poor man, but yet can spell, } and i lov'd madam syntax well: } --but i've a sorry tale to tell. } young 'squire you're in the devil's hands, or one who yields to his commands, and who, i'm certain, would be bold in bloody deeds, if 'tis for gold. halters he fears, but the base wretch fears no one mortal but jack ketch: yet what with quirks and such like flaws, he can contrive to cheat the laws_: _though madam's hand the will might sign, it is no more her will than mine. some say, as she lay on her bed, the deed was sign'd when she was dead, and i've heard some one say, whose name i must not give to common fame, he'd lay ten pounds and say, 'have done,' you liv'd not on to twenty-one; and if you die before, 'tis known, that madam's money's all his own. nay, how he did the will compose, 'tis beelzebub alone who knows! he in a lonely mansion lives, but there the cunning villain thrives: yes, he gets on, as it appears, by setting people by the ears: though i have heard nan midwife say, who sometimes travels late that way, that 'neath the yew, near the house wall, where the dark ivy's seen to crawl, a cat she once saw which was half as big as any full-grown calf, and with her tail beat down the bushes, as if they were but slender rushes; has often felt sulphureous steam, and seen bright lines of lightning gleam. these things the good, old woman, swears she sometimes smells and sees and hears, while thus all trembling with affright, she scarce can get her bald mare by't. --run off, young 'squire, for much i fear you'll be cut off, if you stay here. my service thus i do commend, from, sir, your very humble friend: and hope you will take in good part, what comes from poor but honest heart!_" "this plain epistle told no more than had been hinted at before; but though i was too bold to fear that danger of such kind was near, yet still the honest counsel brought my mind to a new range of thought. "one day as i was riding out, prowling the country round about, a guide-post stood, in letter'd pride, close by the dusty high-road side: with many towns for passage fam'd, _oxford_ upon its points was nam'd, which instant call'd me to attend to my kind patron _doctor bend_: and then there 'rose within my breast a thought that reason did suggest, and not th' effect of boyish whim, '_th' attorney quit and fly to him_.'- --soon after, by a lucky chance, i heard what made my heart to dance, that _cerberus_ would be from home, at least for sev'ral days to come, though, when of me he took his leave, he said, 'expect me home at eve, but, as talk may the way beguile,' he added, 'ride with me a mile.' --this was the very thing i wish'd, for now i felt the fox was dish'd. he rode on first and bade me follow, 'twas then that i began to hollow; i had but one _white lie_ to tell and all things would be going well. i said it was my guardian's whim that i should make the tour with him, and ask'd for a clean shirt or so as i had such a way to go. thus my great-coat, most closely roll'd, did all the useful package hold, and to the saddle strongly tied i was completely satisfied, as nought appear'd, thus pack'd together, but a protection from the weather, so that the lawyer's lynx's eye was clos'd on curiosity: for madam gripe-all's ready care did, to my wish, the whole prepare. indeed, whatever she might be, her kindness never fail'd to me. she frequently would call me son, and say she lov'd me as her own; nay, when the clock struck, she would say, 'kiss me as often, dear, i pray as that same clock is heard to strike, and oft'ner, dearest, if you like.' though such favour ne'er was shown, } but when we both were quite alone, } and seldom when the clock struck one. } her fondness i could well have stinted, for, to say truth, she smelt and squinted: but i remember'd that she cried, when my poor, little phillis died. "i felt my airing rather droll, jogging with _gripe-all_ cheek-by-jowl, and hearing him, with no great awe, expound the secrets of the law. --when arriv'd at seven miles' end he smil'd and said, 'good bye, my friend: now homewards you will turn and tell, that thus far you have left me well.' i left him with a hope, how vain! i ne'er might see his face again. my spur did sprightly poney goad till i had got into the road which did to oxford's city lead, when i restrain'd my foaming steed, and, calmly pacing on my way, ere _great tom_ toll'd the following day, i had embrac'd my rev'rend friend and kindest patron, _doctor bend_. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus at oxford.] "i told a simple, artless tale, that seem'd completely to prevail, as i beheld his face the while beam with a kind, approving smile. ''tis a bold trick,' the doctor said, 'which you, my lively spark, have play'd, but since to college you are come, i'll try to make the place your home; where i should hope you need not fear to be cut short in your career; i think, at least, we may engage to keep you safe till you're of age, when i shall leave you to the struggling with _gripe-all's_ artifice and juggling: but still the cunning lawyer knows i have good friends 'mong some of those who lead the bar or have a seat where the keen eye detects a cheat. he will, i doubt not, swear and curse, nay, he may say you've stole his horse; but if he meets with no disaster, in two days he shall see his master, and john will have a strict command to give a letter to his hand which i shall with due caution write before i seek my bed to-night, and if my mental eye sees clear will fix my friend quæ genus here.' john met the lawyer on the road, just as he reach'd his own abode, and ere at home he could have heard of my escape a single word: told him at once all he could tell, that i at oxford was, and well, where as i stay'd, i had of course, with many thanks return'd his horse, john said, he rather look'd confus'd as the epistle he perus'd. --whether it bore a kind request i should with alma mater rest, or any hint that might apply to the high court of chancery: if soothing it contain'd or threat, } i never knew or i forget,- } with all submission it was met. } to all it ask'd he did agree, and sent his kind regards to me, while he his counsel did commend not to run off from _doctor bend_, nor e'er be govern'd by the whim that made me run away from him. "thus soon in scholar's cap and gown, } i was seen saunt'ring up and down } the high-street of fair oxford town. } and though i stood not first in fame, i never bore an idler's name. i was content, nay 'twas my pride the doctor ne'er was heard to chide, which, as your oxford youths can tell, was getting onward rather well. my friends, the worthies, near the lake, lov'd me for doctor syntax' sake, and, free from e'en a speck of care, i pass'd a short-liv'd summer there. --but time, as it is us'd, roll'd on, and i, at length, was twenty-one. "i now became a man of cares to bear the weight of my affairs, to know my fortune's full amount, and to arrange a clear account between the vile, rapacious elf, the _lawyer gripe-all_ and myself. --no sooner to the place i came, } soon as was heard my well-known name, } the bells my coming did proclaim, } and had i stay'd the following day, i would have made the village gay! thus _gripe-all_ was full well prepar'd and put at once upon his guard. i went unwittingly alone to claim my right and ask my own, though arm'd, to cut the matter short, with an enliv'ning dose of port, while he was ready to display the spirit of the law's delay. --a step, he said, he could not stir without baptismal register, and many a proof he must receive, which well he knew i could not give; and till these papers i could shew, he must remain in _statu quo_. but still, as a kind, gen'rous friend, and from respect to _doctor bend_, he would, though cash did not abound, advance me then _four hundred pound_. i took the notes and thought it best to wait the settling of the rest; but soon i saw, as i'm alive, that i had sign'd receipt for _five_. my fingers caught the fraudful paper, at which he 'gan to fume and vapour, and let loose language full of ire, such as 'you bastard, rascal, liar,' on which i caught him by the nose, and gave the wretch some heavy blows, nay, as the blood ran down his face, i dash'd the ink all in his face, so that his figure might have done e'en for the pit of acheron. inky black and bloody red was o'er his ghastly visage spread, as he lay senseless on the floor, and, as i then thought, breath'd no more. --the office, now a scene of blood, most haply in the garden stood, so that our scene of sanguine riot did not disturb domestic quiet: the notes were in my pocket stor'd, and the receipt was in the hoard; but as i now believ'd him dead, i thought of being hang'd--and fled. nor did i make the whisky wait which then stood at the garden gate. the driver who there held the reins, took me through many secret lanes and woodland roads, that might evade pursuit, if any should be made. he had an humble play-mate been when i was sportive on the green; but now, like me, to manhood grown, was as a skilful driver known; and would have gone to serve quæ genus though fire and water were between us. i told him all the fears i felt, and how i had with _gripe-all_ dealt; nay, urg'd him, if i were pursued, } to cheat the blood-hounds, if he could, } all which he mainly swore he would. } nay, hop'd i'd given him such a drubbing, as to send him beelzebubbing; though, first or last, he sure would go to his relations down below. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ conflict between quæ genus & lawyer gripe-all.] "thus as we talk'd a mail-coach pass'd, and as i could not go too fast, i found, perchance, an empty seat, and thus i made a quick retreat; nay should, in eight and forty hours, by the wheels' ever-rolling powers, have a secure retirement found, safe from pursuit, on scottish ground. but as misfortune, it is said, calls in associates to her aid, and, indeed, is seldom known to pay her visits all alone; so either from the sultry weather, or anxious thoughts, or both together, i was stopp'd short in my career, by intermitting fits severe of heat and cold: a galen came, and julep was the good man's name, for truly good he prov'd to me in skill and in humanity. ''tis not,' he said, 'disease alone, which various symptoms have made known, but they're encreasing as i find, by a disturb'd and anxious mind, and if that cannot be subdued, med'cine will do but little good.' i therefore, my distresses told, in short, my story did unfold, while, as i spoke, in his kind eye, i saw the tear of sympathy, and did beneath his roof receive the care that pitying skill could give. "the fever wag'd a painful strife, a struggling chance 'tween death and life, that play'd upon my yielding spine, which did to outward curve incline: i felt the mark would ne'er forsake its cruel seat upon my back; i bent beneath the foul disaster that ne'er would yield to any plaister: nor medicine, nor knife can cure it, and must struggle to endure it. thus when restor'd to health and vigour, i was become a crook-back'd figure: my former round and healthful face had lost its plump, its rosy grace, and was reduc'd from this same cause to pale and lean and lantern jaws, that none who once quæ genus knew would recollect him on the view; nor e'en would recognition wait though he should pass by _gripe-all's_ gate. when in the glass i chanc'd to view, } the figure i now scarcely knew, } i shudder'd and despis'd it too. } --'at length,' said _julep_, 'i commend, ere you depart, a worthy friend, a lawyer too, nay, do not start, whose well-stor'd head and honest-heart, throughout his life were ne'er disjoin'd, and in his practice are combin'd the cause of truth and right to aid; who ne'er has heard the poor upbraid his conscious dealings, while 'tis known, the wealthy do his virtues own. thus, as your fate has been accurs'd, of legal dealers, with the worst; you now may, as by all confess'd, obtain good counsel from the best. "on such a character intent, to lawyer _make-peace_ thus i went, and told my curious story o'er as i have told it you before. with a keen look my face he ey'd, and in a gentle tone replied. 'if the good man you thus have bang'd, you may contemplate being hang'd; but, as the case to me appears, i trust you may dismiss your fears; for even now you do not know what evil follow'd from the blow; and though some blood may have been spill'd, it follows not the man was kill'd: besides, whatever ill was done, there was no witness, no not one to prove which of you was in fault, who first provok'd or gave th' assault; and if, my friend, you had not fled you need not fear, though he were dead. --no advertisement has appear'd to state the crime, as i have heard, and surely i've the means to know if any measures had been so. but still, remember, i advise that you move under a disguise, 'till time and chance have drawn aside that veil that does these threat'nings hide, which, in your present dubious state, may on your wary footsteps wait. change your dress and change your name, for neither now must be the same.' quæ genus. 'my dress and name i'll do anon, the fever all the rest has done; for doctor _bend_ i would defy } the fondled foundling to descry, } in his mis-shapen misery. } johnny quæ genus, now adieu! jack page i substitute for you!' lawyer make-peace. 'you have good friends whom you can trust, who to misfortune will be just, they will, i doubt not, let you know, how you must act and what to do. and much i think you have been wrong, to have with-held your pen so long. obey me now in all i've said; be secret and be not afraid.' "he spoke, and, in the kindest way, urg'd me to make no more delay; and when i sought to give the fee; 'no, no,' he said, 'to such as thee for mere good words i'm never paid;- this is my way of plying trade. when you have made a fair escape from this unlucky, wretched scrape, and when you are again restor'd to your own happy bed and board; when from all thraldom you are free, then, if it suits, remember me.' "my notes were sew'd up in my coat, for julep would not take a groat. 'when you reach home,' he kindly said; 'like his friend make-peace, i'll be paid.' thus i set off, as was my plan, guis'd as a trudging, trav'lling man, and in his journey going on to seek his fate in london town. my needfuls in an oil-cloth sack, were buckled to my wretched back, and late at night when the full moon in an unclouded brightness shone, i left those gen'rous friends behind which such as me so seldom find: a galen, with that goodness fraught, who gave his skill and drugs for nought; and an attorney, whose great aim was to put roguery to shame; nay, whose superior virtues tell the law can shew a _miracle_. "you must, _sir jeff'ry_, often see } the strange effects of vanity; } another you will find in me. } you'll scarce believe as i relate the folly which i now must state: that i've been such a silly elf i now can scarce believe myself: and i could wish i dare conceal what duty bids me to reveal. --did not calm prudence whisper now to my existing state to bow, to tell it all to such a friend as i had found in _doctor bend_, or a quick pilgrimage to make } to worthy-hall beside the lake, } where, for dear _doctor syntax'_ sake, } the troubled _foundling_ would receive all that protecting care could give. this was the counsel _make-peace_ gave, a lawyer who was not a knave; who would advise without a fee, and felt for human misery. --this reason said in lessons strong, as i pac'd my still way along, when the dull sound of my own feet and philomela's sonnet sweet did on the gen'ral silence break, and seem'd to keep the night awake. then vanity sat pick-a-pack perch'd on the hump upon my back, and whisper'd into either ear, 'such humbling counsels do not hear. where poor quæ genus has been known his alter'd form must ne'er be shown: with this sad shape he never can hold himself forth a gentleman: no art can furnish you a cloak to hide from pity or from joke. if passing on a river's ridge, or, perchance lolling o'er a bridge, you gaze upon the stream below whose crystal mirror's seen to flow, would not the picture meet your eye of your own sad deformity? at oxford you would be the talk of the high-street or christ-church-walk, while many quizzing fools look round to view your rising back begown'd. --how would you bear the wond'ring ken of the good folk of sommerden, while they with pitying looks lament the once straight form, but now so bent! then leave the world where you have been, where i would be no longer seen, nor let the jealous eye compare, what you once was with what you are. might i advise, i'd sooner die } unknown, in humble privacy, } again,' said whisp'ring vanity, } 'than e'er appear where i was known for graces which were then my own, that pity or that scorn might point at such a form, so out of joint.' "i need not say how many days i sought the bye and secret ways, for ever list'ning to the tongue } that whisper'd soft and pleaded strong, } to set each better feeling wrong. } hence i resign'd myself to chance, left fortune, friends, inheritance, and madly felt that i was hurl'd thus mark'd to wander through the world. to snatch at, and at once receive, whate'er the world might chance to give. 'twas not a whimsy of the brain, } that did the idle scheme sustain, } 'twas something which i can't explain. } all feeling center'd in the pack that had thus risen on my back; and as i felt the burden there, it seem'd the seat of ev'ry care, of ev'ry painful thought brimfull, like old pandora's _ridicule_. but as every single note } which i from _gripe-all's_ grasp had got, } was still secure within my coat, } i had sufficient means and more to travel all the kingdom o'er with staff in hand, and well-shod feet, } and oil'd umbrella form'd to meet } the show'rs that might my passage greet. } one pocket did a bible hold, the other held the story told, which good æneas did rehearse to dido, in immortal verse; while from a loop before descended a flute that oft my hours befriended: thus i with verse, with prose or fist, was scholar, fiddler, methodist. as fit occasion might demand, i could let scripture phrase off-hand, or fine re-sounding verses quote, or play a tune in lively note. thus qualified to cut and carve, i need not fear that i should starve; while in some future lucky stage of my uncertain pilgrimage, i might have hopes, remov'd from strife, to be a fixture for my life. "such was the wild, fantastic scheme such was the strange distracted dream, that, stranger still, rose from the pack which chance had fix'd upon my back. of friends forgetful, 'twas my plot that i by friends should be forgot.- i seem'd to wish that i were thrown upon some island yet unknown, where crooked figure is the feature of all the living, reas'ning nature; and where deformity would be a shape of perfect symmetry; which swift would not have fail'd to spare, had his bold fancy wander'd there, and _lemuel gulliver_ had been the visitor of such a scene. "in this same state i wander'd on, grumbling and doubting and alone, though some encouragement i met which made me whilom cease to fret; for, tales i hap'd by chance to know and pleasant fancies i could show, with which my active mind was stor'd, had sometimes paid my bed and board; nay, had prolong'd my welcome stay throughout a grave or lively day. "one evening by a riv'let's side that did in gentle murmurs glide, where the green turf its carpet spread, and willow boughs wav'd o'er my head, i sat reclin'd, nor was my flute, as i could wake its music, mute: when a huge waggon pass'd along, and soon a chorus join'd the song. invited by the social strain, i rose and sought the jocund train; men, women, children, all so gay, who loudly cheer'd the tedious way. the cargo which the waggon bore were modern times and those of yore; the image of each living scene, and of such things as ne'er had been: witches and goblins, clouds and skies deck'd out in their varieties, the river's flow, the ocean's waves, the crowns of kings, the bonds of slaves, helmets and mitres, robes and arms, terrific forms, and beauty's charms, all mov'd along, together hurl'd, th' outfittings of a mimic world: when what with spouting, what with song, as the procession trudg'd along, no cunning was required to see, it was a strolling company, who were proceeding to make known their talents in a neighb'ring town. here a strange thought occur'd that i might try my powers in tragedy; while the vain fancy was possess'd i might appear among the best: in short among them i display'd an earnest of the acting trade. the bills were blazon'd with my name, a candidate for scenic fame, and 'twas announc'd that mr. page would first appear on any stage. the part which i of course preferr'd was shakespear's well known r. the third. i wanted not the wardrobe's aid, my crook-back was already made; my form disdain'd the aid of art, and thus i play'd the tyrant's part: but from my being thus disjoin'd, to this same part i was confin'd. though by this outfit i must own i could perform the awkward clown, or any other hunch-back fellow, a pantaloon, or punchinello, where white and red be-mark'd my face, and excellence was my disgrace: for here i shrunk beneath the pack that fate had nail'd upon my back. "i wish'd to figure as othello, but he was a fine, straight-made fellow, whom, with a shape, so crook'd, so bent, i could not dare to represent, and though his face was olive brown, no injury his form had known; while mine, in its unseemly guise, fair desdemona must despise: nor could it be a bard's design, } that love-sick maids should e'er incline } to such an outrag'd shape as mine. } my voice possess'd a tender strain, that could express a lover's pain; but such a figure never yet was seen to win a _juliet_. nay ladies lolling in a box, would think it a most curious hoax, if through their glasses they should see lord townly such an imp as me. thus for a month or more, jack page fretted and strutted on the stage, sometimes affording richard's figure in all its native twist and vigour; or bearing kick, or smack, or thump from harlequin upon his hump. though i say not, i was ill-paid for the fine acting i display'd. nay, had i less mis-shapen been, i might to the theatric scene, have turn'd my strange life's future views, and courted the dramatic muse. "but as i could not smooth my shape from the hips upwards to the nape, and as to so confin'd a round my imitative powers were bound, my genius i resolv'd to try in writing farce or comedy, in which i could exert my art for my dear self to form a part wherein the keen, applauding eye might dwell on my deformity, and where the picture might beguile the judgement to afford a smile. --when this same work i had perform'd my vanity was rather warm'd. 'humour,' 'twas said, 'the piece discovers,' and it was call'd, 'the crooked lovers.' "i think, _sir jeff'ry_ you may guess, } the plot my farce aims to possess,- } a kind of praise of ugliness; } where beauty is not seen to charm, nor fill the heart with fond alarm; where finest eyes may gleam in vain, may wake no joy, or give no pain: and though the beaming smiles may grace the rosy bloom of delia's face, here they excite no am'rous passion, nor call forth tender inclination: such the desire, that ev'ry day, amuses cupid when at play, but other objects must engage the scenes i offer'd to the stage: lame legs, club feet, and blinking eyes, with such like eccentricities, call'd forth my amorous desire, and set my actors all on fire. with me no damon longs to sip the sweets of cath'rine's pouting lip, but smoke-dried strephon seeks the bliss of a well-guarded, snuffy kiss, where the long nose, delightful wonder, scarce from the chin can keep asunder; where lovers' hearts ne'er feel a thump, but when they view each other's hump. "now here again i was o'erthrown by a crook-back, and not my own; the may'rs gay wife, whose back appears upon a level with her ears, was pleas'd at first that i had prov'd she was an object to be lov'd; but as the parish parson too, with a small form was quite askew, and as, when it was pleasant weather, this pair would take a walk together, would saunter through the winding glade, or sit beneath the beechen shade; and, as it seem'd, were never cloy'd with tender converse so enjoy'd; it hap'd some critic keen discovers whom i meant by 'the crooked lovers.' the may'ress call'd th' obedient mayor to frown from magisterial chair, and with the terrors of his mace to drive my hunch-back from the place;- and on the high-road i once more was trav'lling as i did before. "to you, sir, it was never known to feel the state which i must own: no home, not knowing where to go, how i should act and what to do. just as a ship whose rudder's lost, nor within sight of any coast; without the power to stand the shock of tempest, or to shun the rock. from the strange nature of my birth, i knew no relative on earth, nor to my giddy thoughts was given to look with any hope to heaven. to london i propos'd to go, where not a being did i know: to me it was an unknown shore, where i had never been before, at least, since of all care bereft, i was a helpless foundling left. thus, as i thought, behold i stood, beside a mill-dam's spreading flood; the waters form'd to drive the mill } with its tremendous wheel, stood still, } while evening glimmer'd on the hill. } one plunge i said and all is o'er, my hopes and fears will be no more; an unknown child, an unknown man, and i shall end as i began. nor can i say what would have follow'd, i, and my hump, might have been swallow'd in the deep, wat'ry gulph beneath, had i not heard a hautbois breath a lively, but an uncouth strain, as it appear'd from rustic swain, which, as it dwelt upon my ear, told me that merriment was near, and did at once dispel the gloom that might have sought a wat'ry tomb. i turn'd my footsteps tow'rds the sound that was now heard the valley round; when soon upon the rural green, the sight of busy mirth was seen. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus at a sheep-shearing.] "with sights like these, i had been us'd in early days to be amus'd when i but wav'd my boyish hand the rural groupes obey'd command, when ev'ry rustic feast i grac'd and was in highest station plac'd, though i did to no name aspire, yet i was nam'd the youthful 'squire, for madam syntax sake was shown the honour which was not my own. but now, such was my fortune's change, a wand'rer i was left to range i scarce knew where, and doom'd to wait for what might be my future fate. thus i approach'd the busy throng, and when i heard the joyous song, though, with a mingled sense of pain, my flute pour'd forth a doubtful strain. --'twas a sheep-shearing that employ'd the festive toil which all enjoy'd, and i was welcom'd to receive the bounties that the feast could give; and while i did my carols play, with flowers the maidens made me gay, and as they gave my back a thump, each stuck a nosegay on my hump. here i must own, there's no concealing, these compliments attack'd my feeling, and i was deck'd out in a part, which on my back, was near my heart; yet, as sweet smiles shew'd the intent that no offensive thought was meant, i, with kind words and sprightly tune strove to repay the fragrant boon. --the yeoman, master of the feast, was kind, and own'd me as his guest, and as he view'd each added fleece that did his summer wealth encrease, he joyous made the toast go round to the song's animating sound, while the patient ewes grown light, and eas'd of all their fleecy weight, no more the shearer's hand restrain but bound off to their hills again. such was the scene that did awhile my bosom of its cares beguile, for he must have a wretched heart to whom those joys no joy impart, which others are beheld to feel and to th' attentive eye reveal; nay, i must own that this night's pleasure, which revell'd in unbounded measure, a kind, though short, oblivion shed o'er my crook-back and thoughtful head: yes, brief it was, for soon again my pleasure yielded to my pain, and all the jocund, festive folly was then restor'd to melancholy. the ale was good, my draughts were deep, and, overcome by sudden sleep, upon a chair my head repos'd, and soon my eyes were soundly clos'd. th' exciseman, a smart, parish wit, thought he could make a funny hit, and with his ochre red and black, drew a fierce face upon my back, the thought, at least, was not quite civil, with all the emblems of the devil. he had display'd his humour's art upon a very tender part, at least, my pride, as you must know, had to my fancy made it so. when, by the roar caus'd by the joke, i from the slumb'ring fit awoke; soon did i make th' exciseman sick of such a mortifying trick: his gauging-rod was heard to crack in many a stroke upon his back, till, by his supplicating tone, i found i had aveng'd my own. but though the marks were brush'd with care, by the same hand which trac'd them there; and though i was most warmly prest, by the kind master of the feast, to pass another jovial day; i felt offence and walk'd away. "'do what i can, go where i will, this hump's my evil genius still, and serves in some odd way or other my any sense of joy to smother.' --such was th' expression that my tongue would mutter as i trudg'd along. --but reason told me, cease your strife with this companion of your life; 'tis fix'd as fate, and you must wear it, therefore with resignation bear it. it is, i own, an ugly tumour, but you should treat it with good humour, and still be pleas'd you cannot trace any mis-givings on your face. the change you surely would not try for a lame leg or squinting eye: though somewhat out of line your figure, you still enjoy health's active vigour: all's right before, so never mind a certain awkwardness behind; for sure, when you present your front, no eye can see a blemish on't. with merry and good-humour'd folk, treat it, oh treat it as a joke, and if, by chance, you meet a fool who turns it into ridicule, tell him you'd rather have the feature, coarse as it is, than his ill-nature. take care that none who know you, find an awkward hump within your mind: oh, let it be your constant care to banish disproportion there, and you will laugh with friends who crack chance-medley jokes upon your back! [illustration: quæ genus assisting a traveller.] "to reason i attention lent; } th' advice was good,--and, strait or bent, } i now resolv'd to be content. } "thus, as i urg'd my onward way, in spirits rather growing gay, with saddle bags and all alone, } a sprightly horse came trotting on, } as if he had his rider thrown. } the beast i, with some trouble, caught, and then its fallen master sought, whom, within half a mile i found all pale and stretch'd upon the ground: when i approach'd, as in surprise, he gave a groan and op'd his eyes. a crystal brook ran murm'ring by, its cooling fluid to supply, and soon its sprinklings did afford the power that banish'd strength restor'd. thus, when re-mounted on his steed, we did, in progress slow, proceed: i cautious pac'd it by his side with tighten'd rein the horse to guide; and with attentive eye, prevent another downfall accident. "we might have gone a mile or more, when we beheld a lofty tower that did in stately form arise, a welcome sight to anxious eyes, marking a spot where might be found some styptic to a bleeding wound. i shall be brief,--the horseman's head } was soon repos'd on downy bed; } the surgeon came and he was bled: } the lancet was by blisters follow'd, and potions, in due order, swallow'd. he look'd his thanks, then squeez'd my hand, bade me, what gold could pay, command; of all i wish'd to take my fill, enjoy myself, nor fear the bill. i took my patient at his word, and what the _blue bell_ could afford, (an inn of good repute and worth, well known to all who travel north,) as it was his desire, enjoy'd, till with good living i was cloy'd. but his sick bed i did amuse, i told him tales and read the news; so that with emphasis he swore he almost griev'd his ills were o'er. "as near, i think, as i can tell, a fortnight pass'd ere he was well; when he thus wish'd me to make known how his best thanks could best be shown.- "'i now may tell, my saddle-bags held a rich bundle of those rags which, from the bank, are issued forth, as we all know, of precious worth, and might have been a certain prize had they been seen by knavish eyes. a rogue would have possess'd the steed, and with his mettle and his speed, have sought a spot, where, at his leisure, he might have rummag'd all my treasure; nay, been in town before the post could have made known what i had lost, and, on some artful trick's reliance, have set discovery at defiance: when i, here sitting sad and stewing, might have been pond'ring o'er my ruin: while, from your noble, gen'rous dealing, i feel a joy there's no revealing. "'a _trav'ller_ is the name i bear, a well-known, useful character, who, through the kingdom's wide-stretch'd bounds, ne'er fails to make his yearly rounds. i for a london house of trade employ my necessary aid, by which its commerce i extend from dover to the far land's end. well mounted, or perhaps in chaise, we quietly pursue our ways; lift our heads high, and look so grand when we have payments to demand, but bow, and handsome speeches give when we have orders to receive: thus suiting manners, as you see to our commercial policy. nay, when the busy day is o'er, we meet at night, perhaps a score; and, in return, give our commands to humble host, who cringing stands, in order to prepare the best for the be-bagg'd and trav'lling guest, and bring us wine to aid our cheer; } while, with stump'd pens behind the ear, } good folks in town may drink their beer-} nay, may be boasting of our labours in smoking clubs of sober neighbours. "'to what the london mart supplies, we give our wings and off it flies: thus knowledge, taste, and every fashion find a quick way throughout the nation, and all the wants of high and low we with a ready zeal bestow. --the beauties of improving art we scatter round in every part, and diff'rent districts of the isle in our communications smile. to learning we distribute books, and sauces to the country cooks: nay, none there are who will refuse the town-made blacking for their shoes: on shetland legs its lustre glows as on the boots of bond-street beaux. where is the miss, or where the maid who does not ask our frequent aid? at city ball or country fair our visits are apparent there; and but for us, the summer races would be despoil'd of half their graces. in short, as ev'ry eye may see, the kingdom is one gallery; that its abundant uses owes to what the traveller bestows. hence it is not a vain pretence that we may make to consequence, who, by our turns and windings, strive to make this flying commerce thrive: too happy when we carry home bags of bank rags for which we roam: nay, i may think i owe to you, that mine are safe within my view, and any wish i will obey, which to my power you may convey.' "i seiz'd the time and told my tale, at least, as much as might avail some settlement in town to find, that suited both my means and mind; when by advice, and, which was better, by a most urgent, friendly letter, arriv'd in london,--i soon found i did not tread on hostile ground: nay, ere a week was pass'd and gone, } fortune, i hop'd had ceas'd to frown, } as i did now a station own, } with promis'd comfort by my side, that gave me gains, nor hurt my pride. but my misfortunes were not past, though this i hope will be my last, or i'll avenge me of the pack, the foe i carry on my back; from london bridge i'll dash me plump,- and drown th' incorrigible hump. "now, the good lady of the house, who had an influence o'er her spouse, was in that interesting state which i can't otherwise relate than being such as loving wives think the great honour of their lives, and she thought, if her daily eye should view my sad deformity, it might the happy shape destroy of the expected girl or boy; and ladies, in a certain trim, must be indulg'd in ev'ry whim. such danger did my form display, another hour i must not stay: but gold was giv'n to heal my pride, and bribe me to be satisfied. 'tis true, kind words explain'd the cause; nay, much was said of nature's laws; and where that ruling pow'r thought fit, to her caprice we must submit. --thus, once again, if not for ever, i had to curse th' infernal fever that did my upright form disgrace, and rob me of my welcome place. --at length, brimfull of discontent, half-mad, i to the office went; where fortune seem'd to change my view, for there she made me known to you. "thus, sir, i've told my tedious story, and now a suppliant stand before you: but in my story, right or wrong, truth was the rudder of my tongue. --i've done, and, in all patience, wait, to know how you may rule my fate; and if my hist'ry will commend } quæ genus, (such may be his end,) } to you, _sir jeff'ry_, as his friend." } canto iii silence for some short time ensu'd, ere conversation was renew'd. --_sir jeff'ry_ first strok'd down his chin, } with something 'twixt a yawn and grin, } and then thought proper to begin. } "by a great writer it is said, and one who seldom was betray'd, when he employ'd his tongue or pen on the known characters of men: (and if, perchance, i'm not mistaken, i think his famous name was bacon,) that in the changeful scenes of life, which raise up enmity and strife, he may 'gainst others hold his head, nor the wide world's opinion dread, if, though he almost stands alone, an honest heart maintains its own: but that he is an arrant fool who yields to his own ridicule. now such a fool, as we have seen, quæ genus, from weak pride, has been: but, though i wonder at his folly, i will not make him melancholy. "things at the worst, 'tis said, must mend, and i will prove your real friend, if you, hereafter, have the sense to merit my full confidence: and now, i think, you may prepare to take my household to your care. your pride must not offended be at putting on a livery, as that will be the best disguise to hide you from all prying eyes; quæ genus, too, you now must yield, that learned name should be conceal'd; _ezekiel_ will suspicion smother, as well, i think, as any other, till i have due enquiry made if _gripe-all_ be alive or dead, and how far i may recommend the runaway to _doctor bend_. do what is right--and laugh at fear; the mark you carry in your rear will never intercept the view fortune may have in store for you. no more let vanity resent the stroke by which your form is bent! how many in the world's wide range would willingly their figures change for such as yours, and give their wealth to get your hump and all its health. look at my legs--my stomach see, and tell me, would you change with me? nay, when your healthy form i view, } though all be-hump'd, i'd change with you, } and give you half my fortune too. } lament no more your loss of beauty, but give your thoughts to do that duty which my peculiar wants require, and more you need not to desire. i feel i cannot pay too high for care and for fidelity: let me see that--my heart engages to give you something more than wages --your duties will be found to vary, as steward, nurse, and secretary: thus you will soon my wants attend less as a servant than a friend. you may suppose i little know of what is going on below; my leading wishes are, to prove that i am duly serv'd above, and you, as may be daily seen, must play the active game between." [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus, in the sports of the kitchen.] more pass'd, that needs not our repeating, about the mystery of eating, which did these sage instructions close, when good _sir jeff'ry_ 'gan to doze: and, soon as he more soundly slept, downstairs _ezekiel_ cautious crept, (for by that name he now is known, as fate has chang'd it for his own,) to let th' expecting folk below the nature of his office know. to ev'ry man he gave his fist,- the females, too, he warmly kiss'd; then to th' assembled kitchen spoke, but not as if he thought a joke, or in a hypocritic glee, but with a smiling gravity. "_sir jeff'ry's_ household int'rests are committed to my faithful care; and i must hope we all agree to serve him with fidelity." to this they all, in order due, gave their assent--and bound it too by words which each one, in their station, gave as a solemn declaration. the cook and housekeeper began, and thus her red rag glibly ran; while, from her knee unto her chin, she wav'd the floured rolling pin. "o, may the kettle never boil, may butter always turn to oil, and may the jack, the chimney's boast, from time to time despoil the roast! may soot fall on the ready stew, and the cat lick the rich ragout! may china dish with pie to bake, while i am speaking, may it crack, if i e'er took the offer'd bribe from any of the market tribe, or e'er disgrac'd the name of cook to falsify the kitchen book; nay, if i have touch'd or taken, for my own use, one slice of bacon; if ever i were such a sinner, may i now spoil _sir jeff'ry's_ dinner; and should i suffer such disgrace, i instantly should lose my place!" chamber maid. "may i be hang'd by some bell rope if e'er i cribb'd an ounce of soap, or pocketed wax-candles' ends to deal out slily to my friends; or, in the linen's gen'ral muster, made free with towel or with duster; or e'er did bribes from turners take, the mops to spoil, or brooms to break; or in the bed-rooms made a stir to call in the upholsterer, as house-maids with dishonest view, are, as i've heard, so apt to do! or ever gave, in washing tub, the linen a hard, tearing rub, that might encrease the rags--a fee which household custom gives to me! --that i speak truth, i here declare, and molly, too, the same will swear; who striking hard upon the dresser, hop'd heaven itself would never bless her, if, from whate'er she saw or knew what had been promis'd was not true." kitchen maid. "though i am rather in a flutter, i vow i never turn'd the butter into the pot that might encrease the perquisite of daily grease; nor sought for fat, no, not a bit, but what dripp'd kindly from the spit, or from the plates and dishes came, when i had daily clean'd the same; nor ever let a candle fall to fill a gaping interval! nor did i e'er a doit receive which coal-merchants may sometimes give to those who watch the kitchen-grate, and keep it in a flaming state; who may the poker wield at will and seldom leave its poking still, nor e'er the kitchen blaze controul by being niggard of the coal: charges that are so often laid to the hard-working, kitchen maid!" footman. "o may i never, never be a servant out of livery, which is th' ambitious, hop'd-for lot of all who wear the shoulder knot! o may i never quit my place } behind the chair, nor shew my face, } the sideboard's glitt'ring show to grace, } if, when my master ceas'd to dine, i ever stole a glass of wine! o, may my food be pitch and mustard, if ever i took tart or custard, if e'er i did my finger dip in some nice sauce and rub my lip! if turnpike tolls i e'er enlarg'd,- may i this moment be discharg'd!" coachman. "may i be flogg'd with thorny briars if e'er i heard such cursed liars, and should i venture now to say } i ne'er purloin'd or corn or hay, } i should be liar big as they! } nay, 'tis such folly to be lying, and all these trifling tricks denying, which, ere a fortnight's past and over, mr. _ezekiel_ must discover. _sir jeff'ry's_ keen look never sees what are but clever servants' fees, and he would feel it to his sorrow, were he to change us all to-morrow; for the new steward soon will see no master's better serv'd than he. there's not a carriage about town that looks genteeler than our own; or horses with more sprightly air, trot through the street or round a square. i say that we all do our duty, and if we make a little booty, we never hear _sir jeff._ complain: and wherefore should one give him pain? if better servants he should seek, he must be changing ev'ry week; and i am sure that kind of strife would spoil the quiet of his life: nay, as you know, there is no question would operate on his digestion; and when that fails, it is a point that puts the rest all out of joint. thus all our trifling, secret gains save him a multitude of pains: and when our daily work is done, if we kick up a little fun, no harm proceeds--no ill is meant- he's not disturb'd--and all's content. --nay, now my friends, i'll club my shilling, and you, i'm sure, will be as willing to drink--that bus'ness may go on in the same temper it has done, and, without any treach'rous bother, that we may understand each other: that, without boasting or denying, we need not to continue lying; and that, disdaining needless fuss, _ezekiel_ may be one of us." the wine was brought, for vulgar beer was not thought proper to appear; the cook a pigeon pie produc'd, and other tit-bits that amus'd the appetites of those who sought 'em, with thanks to the fat dame who brought 'em. --thus the new steward was made free of kitchen hospitality; and to be blind to what he saw, he was bound down by kitchen law. at length, in office thus install'd, and each was gone where duty call'd, he, with a pressing arm, embrac'd } the busy cook's well-fatten'd waist, } as with her pin she plied the paste; } when from her active tongue he drew the duties which he had to do, and how he might their claims divide, nor lean too much to either side. --our hero, who now felt his ground, thought not of change in what he found; and that to enter on reform would be but to excite a storm, disturb the knight's desir'd repose and fill a kitchen full of foes. he plainly saw his station bound him to be at peace with all around him: but, as the diff'rent int'rests drew, he rather trembled at the view. thus, if we may small things compare with those which more important are, we may _ezekiel's_ state apply to maxims of philosophy, by which it seems life's changeful hours are subject to two adverse powers, that govern as by time or chance, nay, struggle for predominance; while each, at diff'rent hours, may be possess'd of short-liv'd victory, as varying impulses may bind the operations of the mind. here selfish int'rest will prevail- there gen'rous feeling turns the scale; so that he neither can be said strictly to be or good or bad; but in the one or other sense, of that presiding influence which counteracting views may give, and the complying mind receive. thus, subject to these adverse powers, in diff'rent places--diff'rent hours- poor mortal man, by their constraint, may be a sinner or a saint. to day he's wading to the chin in folly's stream, through thick and thin; while, on the morrow, he may prove what virtue's self delights to love. 'twas in this case our hero stood: he might be bad--he might be good; if good, he must the kitchen sweep- if bad, its tricks a secret keep; but if he would preserve his cloth, he must determine to be both. thus, as he took a thoughtful view, } he saw, his int'rest to pursue, } he must divide himself in two. } above to stick to rigid plan- below to join the lively clan: in what _sir jeff'ry_ did entrust to his sole province, to be just; but ne'er to interrupt the show that was kept up by friends below: at least, he was resolv'd to try this system of philosophy; to be a favourite with all, in drawing room and servants' hall. from all that he at present view'd, no other plan could be pursu'd; no other method could he trace, to be at ease and keep his place. up-stairs to serious care he went, } down-stairs to stolen merriment, } and thus the day and night were spent. } _sir jeff'ry_, in a tone of pleasure, talk'd of _ezekiel_ as a treasure; and, far as the good knight could tell, he merited the title well: nay, it is true, he never fail'd to meet the humour that prevail'd; and through the day, from morn till night, _sir jeff'ry_ found that all was right. but when he slumb'ring sought his bed, and on the pillow laid his head, then did our hero quit his post and pass away like midnight ghost; then did he from his virtue move, the power that rul'd him when above, and seek the lively sports below; for what could puzzled hunch-back do? could he another course prefer? no,--he must take things as they were. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus, in the service of sir. jeffery gourmand.] in this wide world, how oft is seen a phantom with alluring mien, y'clep'd temptation, whose sweet smiles too oft the stoutest heart beguiles. whate'er its forms, they seldom fail sooner or later to prevail. if it assumes a golden shower, or sits in any seat of power, how numerous the slavish band who offer to obey command: still, some examples may be shown of those whose virtues would disown its influence, and refuse to fly, or yield the palm of victory. but where's the heart that e'er disdains the pow'r that dwells where beauty reigns? if such a question we propose, _ezekiel_ was not one of those; and thus below-stairs he began to break upon his up-stairs plan: nay, this same rigid rule of right, } in his close duties to the knight, } he now thought might be drawn too tight; } and that, in trifles, to his feeling, he might be safe in double dealing, and in the drawing-room apply the aid of kitchen policy: but he as soon would think of murther as to proceed an atom further. how he thus happen'd to decline from his strict, philosophic line; why he relax'd from law severe in the knight's upper atmosphere, will not surprise one human creature who the world knows, or human nature, or recollects the joy or smart when passion first invades the heart. there were two objects most bewitching, that sparkled all around the kitchen; though so bright was every kettle, or plate or pan of various metal, that each might gaze upon a face as if they peep'd into a glass: though fire-irons did reveal the shining of the polish'd steel,- yet these superior pow'rs display'd, than aught by human artist made: in short, to state what they could be, and silence curiosity, they were two eyes which lustre shed where'er the owner turn'd her head; though they gave not the only grace that play'd on molly's charming face. but whether 'twas her lips or nose, or the fine curve of auburn brows, that aided the commanding eye in its well-play'd artillery, howe'er that be--in his warm heart _ezekiel_ had receiv'd the dart, and as its ruling power he felt, each steady purpose 'gan to melt:- for her he might his virtue stake } and let his yielding conscience quake, } nay, cheat _sir jeff'ry_ for her sake. } 'tis not the office of the muse, on slight suspicions, to accuse; nor does she now present to view more than 'tis probable she knew: but one day, and it may be more, his constant meal of dainties o'er, dull nature did the knight incline to snore a little o'er his wine. our hero, seeing molly pass, he tempted her to take a glass; for, in his state of tender feeling, what gen'rous mind will call it stealing? and scorn'd be they who think it treason against the better rules of reason, if, in return, he sought a kiss; but as he seiz'd the melting bliss, tall margery was passing by by chance or curiosity: she glanc'd at all was onward going, and what _ezekiel_ was bestowing; when, as she cast her leering eye, thus thought her rising jealousy. "if, sir, you give miss moll the glass, i'll try to make a bottle pass;" then push'd her stout arm by the door, the sideboard's juices to explore. if 'twas by chance the action came, or if a purpos'd trick's to blame, a smart kick caus'd the door to close and caught the damsel by the nose. the luckless nose was rather long, and had its gristle not been strong, had not the door been edg'd with baize to give its hurried motion ease,- had it been sharp, the wicked pinch might have cut short that nose an inch. _madge_ now scream'd out at her disaster, } and swore that she would tell her master, } but our _ezekiel_ found a plaister; } though what the plaister was he found to silence tongues and cure the wound, we must not nice enquiry make for virtue's and our hero's sake. but we may tell, for this we know, that all was still and calm below; though as the faithful verse will prove he shap'd another plan above, form'd to controul all household feud, and be as honest as he could; thus give to things another face to live at ease and keep his place. --two int'rests into one were thrown, those of _sir jeff'ry_ and his own: the former strictly to maintain, nor yet the latter to disdain; the knight's confiding grace to keep, nor let his own advantage sleep; the kitchen's jovial mirth to boast, but leave the cook to rule the roast; to be of molly's smiles possest, though never to offend the rest: and here we fear is the beginning, the first short lesson of his sinning. so young, and with such little sense of what is call'd--experience; and whom the world had not yet taught, as it might do, to set at nought what conscience tells us we should shun, what we should do or leave undone; or, with a certain self-deceit, the virtues of the heart to cheat, he certainly appears to be envelop'd in perplexity, and verging on a dang'rous scrape from which he might not make escape without a loss which he would rue of the fair prospects in his view; and thus be on a sudden hurl'd faithless and friendless on the world. as in his plan this hasty change was, it may seem, so very strange, it therefore may be well to know from whence such awkward motives flow, for awkward motives they must be which trench upon integrity. it was not molly's sparkling eyes which sought his virtue to surprise; for though he might her heart beguile to yield his wish a fav'ring smile, she ne'er allow'd of a pretence beyond the claim of innocence. there is a proverb so well known it would be ign'rance not to own the having heard and felt its truth e'en in the days of early youth, that, if we chance with those to live whose lives a bad example give, they will convey, as we shall find, a foul contagion to the mind. thus for a time _ezekiel_ stood firm as the tree that crowns the wood, but, after mocking ev'ry blast, will sometimes bend and fall at last. though whether he began to shake, or only suffer'd twigs to break, but still retain'd his fibres bound, } in firm defiance to the ground, } while the main trunk, tho' shook, was sound, } is what the curious mind shall know, and no far distant page will show. thus the humble verse will trace his future honour or disgrace; as intermingled they must be with scenes of household history. when good _sir jeff'ry's_ gout was kind and to his bed he was confin'd; no dainty dinner to be got, and nought but messes in the pot, the kitchen folk, then quite at leisure, would think of more than common pleasure; then butlers of the higher station, and valets to gay men of fashion, invited were, to join the ball now given in the servants' hall, with ladies' maids who titles bore of mistresses--whose gowns they wore; and sometimes a smart tradesman, too, would pop in to say--_how do ye do_. --here all home secrets were betray'd- } the various tricks which servants play'd, } and how their fortunes could be made. } when one grave man his silence broke, and thus to our _ezekiel_ spoke:- "had i," says he, "so fine a place, as your superior manners grace; had i a rich man in my keeping, who passes half his time in sleeping; whose purse is always in your view, and lets you pay his tradesmen too; while, that he may enjoy his ease, he makes you guardian of his keys, my growing fortune soon should flow, and in a way he ne'er should know. if by his bed you are his nurse, and have the jingling of his purse; if, when the doctor comes to see him, and you are calmly told to fee him, you must be nam'd the veriest elf if, then, you do not fee yourself: nay, when his fingers, cramp'd with gout, cannot well take a _sovereign_ out, and he should bid you take out four, contrive to grapple five or more. 'tis when he's sick with aches and ails, when pain torments and mem'ry fails, when the night's pass'd his bed beside, then fortune tells you to provide for future wants,--and bless the hour that gives the means into your power: nor ever fail, on some pretence, to rail against the rash expense which doctors and their varlets bring to patients, sick and suffering, till you can get him to exclaim- 'expense is a mere idle name; of cost let your complainings cease, i care not so it gives me ease:' then offer up your thanks to heaven that to his fortune it is given to be thus blest with ample wealth, at any cost to purchase health. this is your harvest; i shall tell another story when he's well: that time's but short,--though let him see that then you're all economy. when he can settle an account, and look into the just amount, then, then let ev'ry thing appear just as it ought--correct and clear. thus let your speculations rove when well below, when sick above, and all i'm worth i now would stake you will, in time, a fortune make. rich as he is, and careless too, with such a confidence in you, _sir jeffery_ will never feel your happy turn in fortune's wheel." "hold, hold awhile," the list'ner said, "this is too much," and shook his head; "for still i feel, without offence, i've not quite done with conscience, nor can so boldly lay aside the warnings of that faithful guide! am i this moment to forget how much i'm in _sir jeff'ry's_ debt, and thus, with chance of foul disgrace, to play the rogue and risque my place?" "no, no," his counsellor replied, "servants and masters are allied; each is to each a foster-brother, and have their claims on one another. an useful servant is a treasure, whose service masters seldom measure. what i now from my heart commend, as an experienc'd, willing friend, is not to rob or place your paw on what is guarded by the law, but such as are no more than fees for all your extra services; for duties which no pay engages, under the common name of wages; for what your varied service grants to all his fancied, sickly wants, which never can your toil requite for all you do by day or night. "when _sir jeffery_ fortune gain'd, by contracts from the state obtain'd, think you he had a pious loathing to crib a yard from soldiers' clothing? and when he did his thousands touch, to say--'my lord, i've got too much; and i am ready to confess i should have done the job for less.' how could such men their fortunes make did they but fair advantage take! and have you not an equal claim, in a small way, to do the same? --when the knight took his daily range from _mincing lane_ to the _exchange_, and calculated as he went, how he should make his _cent. per cent._ think you that he was over-nice to fix his rate of merchandise? when his ships sought some foreign strand, did he disdain the contraband, if he could but with safety chouse the sentries of the custom-house? a little smuggling all allow, but only mind the when and how: take your _per centage_, but with care; and who will say it is not fair? --i've serv'd the wealthy and the great, nay once a minister of state, and as i saw that in his station he did not fail to rob the nation, i thought i might indulge the whim, as a turn serv'd, to pilfer him. i courted too my lady's maid, for charlotte understood her trade: i form'd my plan and did espouse her, then started up a tonish grocer, kept butlers in my constant pay who serve me in the usual way, and all the house-keepers around with certain something in the pound. now hear the advantage which i share from all my caution, all my care! i have a genteel, pleasant home, to ladies let my drawing-room, and in a whisky i can ride with charlotte smiling by my side. 'tis thus i offer to your view, what i have done,--for you to do." here this fine conversation ended, but not, perhaps, as was intended, which strong temptations might display to lead th' unsettled mind astray; and, for a time, as fancy play'd, now beaming light, now seeking shade, _ezekiel_ hover'd o'er the plan of specious rogue or honest man. perhaps a smart, neat, pleasant shop, did on his pericranium pop, with his warm, faithful wish to crown, the lovely molly then his own: such interests might his purpose guide, till he was questioned by his pride;- "--but can this be a proper plan for one bred like a gentleman? 'tis true i cannot change the show } of kitchen policy below, } there i must yield, i'm bound to know: } but, in the regions above, the whole in rectitude shall move; to the knight's goodness i may trust, and faithful will i be and just; nor ever take or e'en receive but what his favour's pleas'd to give; nor shall reproach my mind disgrace whene'er i look him in the face." such were his thoughts,--the grocer fail'd. thus honesty at length prevail'd, and sav'd him, as things shortly stood, from baseness of ingratitude. in a few days the parting gout gave the knight leave to go about, and one day in his arm-chair plac'd, the table with its luncheon grac'd, smiling, as he luxurious sat, he thus let loose his easy chat. "this soup, my friend's a special treat, fit for an emperor to eat, and now, my pleasure to pursue, i trust i have a treat for you. i've spar'd no pains to know the fate that on your future hopes may wait, and what i shall proceed to tell may altogether please you well, unless you are resolv'd to try new whims and tricks of foolery, on which, however will depend, whether your master is your friend. if, at all points, the news i bring may not be quite so flattering; yet surely it deserves at least, to be thought good, if not the best. --you need no longer stand in awe of any terrors of the law, the beating you to _gripe-all_ gave did little harm to that same knave, for he surviv'd to play a prank, by robbing of a country bank, and fled, as his late neighbours say, to flourish in america. thither your fortune too is gone, but then your fears are also flown. time, it is hop'd may make amends, fortune and you may still be friends; nor shall i my best wishes smother to introduce you to each other. my growing favour you will see, so lay aside your livery: hence you will need not a disguise 'gainst curious thoughts and prying eyes: your former title you may claim, again quæ genus is your name: be faithful, and you soon shall know the kindness i may yet bestow. nay, be but honest, while i live } your upright service shall receive } all that my grateful hand should give: } nor doubt my purpose as sincere,- more may be meant than meets the ear." what heart, with the least sense of good, that would not melt with gratitude, when such a gen'rous friend was near the clouded scenes of life to cheer, and bid the drooping hopes pursue a brighter prospect now in view! and where's the heart that would not feel, and where's the tongue that could conceal the sense that virtue had withstood such specious efforts to delude! quæ genus the sensation felt that bade repenting thoughts to melt; nay, he e'en cast his eyes to heaven, with doubts that he should be forgiven for having listen'd to deceit and almost yielded to the cheat, whose principles had he obey'd as in the grocer's scheme display'd, all trembling he should now have stood a monster of ingratitude. what he had 'scap'd his heart confess'd, and his moist eyes confirm'd the rest. with ev'ry grateful feeling fraught he spoke not, but 'twas thus he thought:- "my ever-watchful care shall tend to make me worthy such a friend, and all my kindred virtues burn to make that friend a due return." the knight, with kindness, view'd the feeling, which poor quæ genus was revealing; when, to cut short the pleasing pain which words were failing to explain, he smiling bade him take his way to the known duties of the day. of words there was a mute hiatus, and of the noon-tide apparatus the table quickly was bereft, while with some new-born pamphlet left, _sir jeffery_ calmly was proceeding to gratify his usual reading, when our quæ genus bore away the fragments of the lighten'd tray, and sought his pantry's cool retreat, where, lolling on a welcome seat, he let his busy fancy range throughout the unexpected change, that did upon his fortune wait; and still, though humble was his state, scarce could he think it a disaster to wait the will of such a master; nor did his pride reluctant bend, since that same master was his friend. all that indulgence could bestow _sir jeff'ry_ did not fail to show; and, when alone, it seem'd to please the knight to set him at his ease, and shrink the distance to a span between the master and the man. --nay, here it cannot be denied } that it was soothing to his pride } to lay the shoulder-knot aside. } the liv'ried dress of red and brown he thus was call'd on to disown: in blue and buff, or buff and blue he now appear'd to daily view. the knight allow'd the taylor's art by all its power to make him smart; and snip with his consummate skill, in working drapery to his will, by his contrivance gave the cape a flow to soften down the shape, so that the hump could scarce be said his general figure to degrade, nor, to a common view, be seen to indispose his pleasing mien. thus did he sit and calmly bless the hopes of promis'd happiness. canto iv the various, the uncertain views which the all-anxious world pursues, while it directs its searching eye to what is call'd prosperity, compose the gen'ral, pictur'd strife that forms the daily scene of life; and make up the uncertain measure of power, of riches, and of pleasure; which, whatsoe'er may be our state, } do on the varying projects wait } of lowly poor or princely great: } for as all worldly things move on we weigh them by comparison. thus he who boasts his little all at a street-corner on a stall, tempting the gaze of wandering eyes to view the transient merchandise, will look to fortune's smile to bless his humble trading with success, as he whose freighted vessel sails o'er distant seas with doubtful gales. nay, in ambition's humble school perceive we not the love of rule, o'er rustic swains to bear the rod and be a village demi-god? to gain command and take the lead where mean submission courts a head, does in the lowest class prevail of vulgar thoughts to turn the scale, as that which on their wishes wait, whose object is to rule the state. --seek you for pleasure as it flows, in ev'ry soil the flow'ret grows; from the pale primrose of the dale nurs'd only by the vernal gale, to the rich plant of sweets so rare } whose tints the rainbow colours share } and drinks conservatorial air. } but, 'tis so subject to the blast, it cannot promise long to last; though still it 'joys the fragrant day, till nature bids it pass away. the rude boy turns the circling rope, or flies a kite or spins a top, when, a stout stripling, he is seen with bat and ball upon the green; the later pleasures then await on humble life whate'er its state, and are with equal ardor sought as those with high refinement wrought, where birth and wealth and taste combine to make the festive brilliance shine. thus the same passions govern all who creep on this terrestrial ball: their objects, truly, are the same, however shap'd, whate'er their name. what though the varying plan confounds in giving sixpences or pounds, in velvet or in home-spun cloth, they may be base curmudgeons both. some are by charity enroll'd on tablets proud in lines of gold, while others, as by stealth, convey the mite that shuns the light of day; though each performs a diff'rent part, each may possess a christian heart. it is not upon wealth alone that happiness erects its throne: how oft, alas! it is we see the rich involv'd in misery; how oft is view'd in reason's eye the wants which wealth can ne'er supply! the way to power may be betray'd, though 'tis with solid gold inlaid; nay, purchas'd pleasure prove deceit, and be at length a very cheat. --how weak, how vain is human pride, dares man upon himself confide: the wretch who glories in his gain amasses heaps on heaps in vain. why lose we life, in anxious cares, to lay in hoards for future years? can they, when tortur'd by disease, cheer our sick heart and purchase ease? can they prolong one gasp of breath, or calm the troubled hour of death? what's man in all his boasted sway? perhaps the tyrant of a day. can he in all the pride of power ensure his honours for an hour? alike the laws of life take place through ev'ry branch of human race: the monarch, of long regal line, was rais'd from dust as frail as mine. can he pour health into his veins or cool the fever's restless pains? can he worn down in nature's course new brace his feebled nerves with force? can he, how vain is mortal power, stretch life beyond the destin'd hour? "consider, man, weigh well thy frame; the king, the beggar, is the same, dust form'd us all,--each breathes his day, } then sinks into his mortal clay." } thus wrote the fabling muse of gay. } such thoughts as these of moral kind quæ genus weigh'd within his mind: for wherefore should it not be thought } that, as his early mind was taught, } it might be with sage maxims fraught? } --thus seated, or as he stood sentry, sole guardian of the butler's pantry, which lock'd up all the household state, the cumbrance rich of massy plate, and all the honour that could grace the power of superior place, that did acknowledg'd rank bestow o'er all the kitchen-folk below; what wonder that his mind should range on hopes that waited on the change which unexpected fortune's power seem'd on his present state to shower. though while his wand'ring mind embrac'd the present time as well as past, the visions of the future too gave a fair prospect to his view. but life this well-known feature bears, our _hopes_' associates are our _fears_, and ever seem, in reason's eye, as struggling for the mastery, in which they play their various part, to gain that citadel the heart. thus though our hero's honest pride was, for the present, satisfied; and did things, as they seem'd to show, promise to stay in _statu quo_, he, surely, would have ask'd no more for fortune on his lot to pour, and with all due contentment wait for what might be his future fate: but while the present hour beguiles his cheerful mind with cheering smiles, the forward thought would strive to sow an awkward wrinkle on his brow. now, strange as the event appears, the source of all his hopes and fears was on each settled point the same, and _jeff'ry gourmand_ was its name. the knight most gen'rous was and free, and kind as kindest heart could be, so that quæ genus scarce could trace the humbling duties of his place. whate'er he did was sure to please, no fretful whims appear'd to tease; and while with fond attention shown, he did each willing duty own, sir _jeff'ry_ frequent smiles bestow'd, and many a kind indulgence show'd, and oftentimes would wants repress to make his fav'rite's labours less: nay, when he dawdled o'er his meat, } would nod and bid him take a seat } to share the lux'ry of the treat. } --he fancied, and it might be true, that none about him e'er could do what his peculiar wants required, and in the way he most desired, as _his_ quæ genus, thus he claim'd him, whene'er to other folk he nam'd him. indeed, he took it in his head that no one else could warm his bed, and give it that proportion'd heat that gave due warmth to either sheet. our hero rather lik'd the plan, as molly brought the warming-pan, and having pass'd it through the door, waited without till all was o'er. thus, having rang'd the alarum-bell, with other things i must not tell, and seen sir _jeff'ry's_ pillow'd head turning to rest within his bed, quæ genus bore the pan away where molly fair was us'd to stay. he was to honour firm, and she the mirror bright of chastity. thus half an hour was often spent in interchange of sentiment, which doubtless was some tender theme: a subject for a pleasing dream. all this tells well,--nor was this all; the sceptre of the servants'-hall was now committed to his hand; o'er that he had supreme command, but such his mild and smiling sway, all felt a pleasure to obey; and 'twas the kitchen's daily toast, long may quæ genus rule the roast. tradesmen did to his worth subscribe, for bills were paid without a bribe; and good sir _jeffery_ quite content how the allotted income went, at no accounts e'er gave a look, but those which fill'd his banker's book. what could our hero more desire, what more his anxious wish require, when with a calm and reas'ning eye he ponder'd o'er his destiny, as he unwound the tangled thread that to his present comforts led, and serv'd as a directing clue in such strange ways to guide him through? --to what new heights his hopes might soar, it would be needless to explore: for now the threat'ning time appears when he is troubled with his fears. his hopes have triumph'd o'er the past; but then the present may not last; and what succession he might find harass'd with doubts his anxious mind. --of the gross, cumbrous flesh the load sir _jeffery_ bore did not forebode through future years a ling'ring strife between the powers of death and life; the legs puff'd out with frequent swell, did symptoms of the dropsy tell; the stiffen'd joints no one could doubt were children of a settled gout; and humours redd'ning on the face, bespoke the erysipelas. indeed, whene'er quæ genus view'd, with rich and poignant sauce embued, as dish to dish did there succeed, which seem'd by death compos'd to feed with fatal relishes to please the curious taste of each disease, that did sir _jeffery's_ carcase share and riot on the destin'd fare: when thus he watch'd th' insidious food, he fear'd the ground on which he stood. --oft did he curse the weighty haunch which might o'ercharge sir _jeff'ry's_ paunch; and to the turtle give a kick, whose callipash might make him sick. he only pray'd sir _jeff'ry's_ wealth might keep on life and purchase health. "let him but live," he would exclaim, "and fortune i will never blame." money is oft employ'd in vain, to cure disease and stifle pain; and though he hop'd yet still he fear'd whene'er grave galen's self appear'd; for when the solemn doctor came, (sir midriff bolus was his name,) he often in a whisper said, "i wonder that he is not dead, nay, i must own, 'tis most surprising, that such a length of gormandising has not ere this produc'd a treat for hungry church-yard worms to eat, and 'tis the skill by which i thrive that keeps him to this hour alive. nay, though i now sir _jeffery_ see } in spirits and such smiling glee, } i tremble for to-morrow's fee." } --when this brief tale he chose to tell and ring his patient's fun'ral bell, quæ genus fail'd not to exclaim, as he call'd on the doctor's name, "o tell me not of the disaster that i must feel for such a master, nay, i may add, for such a friend were i to go to the world's end, alas, my journey would be vain, another such i ne'er should gain!" sir midriff, member of the college, and of high standing for his knowledge, in lab'ring physic's mystic sense and practical experience, as common fame was pleas'd to say, expected more than common pay. now, as sir _jeff'ry_ never thought his health could be too dearly bought, whene'er the healing knight was seen, wrapt up within the indian screen, to shape the drugs that might becalm some secret pain or sudden qualm; or when there was a frequent question, of bile's o'erflow and indigestion, or some more serious want had sped sir _jeff'ry gourmand_ to his bed, quæ genus fail'd not to convey (for he had learn'd the ready way), the two-fold fee, by strict command, into sir _midriff's_ ready hand. thus, in this kind of double dealing, the doctor had a pleasant feeling, that seem'd to work up a regard for him who gave the due reward, and knew so well to shape the fee from the sick chamber's treasury. thus when our hero told his pain } and did his future fears explain, } _galen_ replied,--"those fears restrain, } to this grave promise pray attend, sir _midriff bolus_ is your friend." such, when he touch'd the welcome fees, were the sly doctor's promises: quæ genus with good grace receiv'd 'em, though 'tis not said that he believ'd 'em. --no, never was a visit past, but it was hinted as the last, had they not been in lucky trim to have sent off post-haste for him. whene'er the knight's legs took to swelling, all ears were bor'd with sad foretelling; and if his chest was over-loaded, some dire disaster was foreboded, but failing in prophetic story, he gave his science all the glory. a year, howe'er, was past and gone, and all the household cares went on, in active zeal and order too, as all such matters ought to do, with hours of leisure well employ'd, and many a fantasy enjoy'd. but something yet remains to know:- to manage _two strings to your bow_, a maxim is, which ev'ry age has rend'red venerably sage, and forms a more than useful rule in the world's universal school. sir _jeffery_, we make no doubt, in various ways had found it out: it might have help'd him on to wealth, and now to aid the wants of health, he kept the adage in his view, } and as one doctor might not do, } it now appears that he had two. } the one, in order due, has been brought forth on the dramatic scene, ranks high in bright collegiate fame, and m. d. decorates his name. he never ventures to prescribe but what is known to all the tribe, who hold the dispensarial reign beneath the dome of warwick-lane. the other, steering from the track of learned lore, was styl'd a quack; who, by a secret skill, composes for many an ill his sovereign doses: but whether right or wrong, the town had given his nostrums some renown. salves for all wounds, for each disease specifics that could give it ease, balsams, beyond all human praise, that would prolong our mortal days. all these, in many a puffing paper, are seen in striking forms to vapour, as, in the magazines they shine, the boast of doctor anodyne. his office was advice to give in his own house from morn till eve, and a green door, within a court, mark'd out the place of snug resort, where patients could indulge the feeling that might dispose them to concealing the nervous hope, the sly desire to eke out life's expiring fire, without the danger to expose their secret or to friends or foes. sir _jeffery_ was one of these who thought it was no waste of fees, though they were toss'd about by stealth, if he could think they purchas'd health: but here, who will not say, it seems he guarded life by two extremes. sir _midriff_ told him he must starve, and _anodyne_ to cut and carve: but though the first he nobly paid, it was the latter he obey'd. full often was his _merc'ry_ sent to bring back med'cine and content; permission, what he wish'd, to eat, } and physic to allay the heat } brought on by a luxurious treat; } to give the stomach strength to bear it, with some enliv'ning dose to cheer it. but still our hero's watchful eye saw that this sensuality was bringing matters to an end, that he too soon should lose his friend; and in what way he should supply the loss when that same friend should die, did often o'er his senses creep when he should have been fast asleep. sir _midriff_ to his promise swore, and _anodyne_ had promis'd more, both had prescrib'd or more or less, a future vision of success: but time has still some steps to move, before they their engagements prove; ere our quæ genus we shall see in a new line of history. sir _jeffery_ now began to droop, nor was he eager for his soup: he blunder'd on the wrong ragout, } nor harangu'd o'er a fav'rite stew, } scarce wild-duck from a widgeon knew. } no longer thought it an abuse, to see st. mich: without a goose. unless prepar'd with cordial strong, he hardly heard the jovial song, or hearing, had not strength to move and strike the table to approve. nay, sometimes his unsteady hand could not the rubied glass command, but forc'd him slowly to divide the rosy bumper's flowing tide. beside him oft quæ genus sat an hour, and not a word of chat; and when he was in sleepy taking the news would scarcely keep him waking. --it was a melancholy showing, but poor sir _jeffery_ was a-going. "indulge his gormandising swallow, and apoplexy soon must follow," such did sir _midriff's_ sage foreknowledge give as the doctrine of the college. "--now, if you dare to keep him low, a dropsy gives the fatal blow. remember, my good friend, i pray, what _anodyne_ is pleas'd to say." when, in a kind of solemn croak, the quack, with shaking noddle, spoke. thus did the differing doctors fail, nor could their varying skill prevail: they neither could set matters right, or quicken a pall'd appetite. more weak and weak sir _jeffery_ grew, nay, wasted to the daily view, and, as his faithful servant found, between two stools he fell to ground. but still he smelt the sav'ry meat, } he sometimes still would eye the treat, } and praise the dish he could not eat. } one day, when in a sunshine hour, to pick a bit he felt the power, just as he did his knife apply to give a slice of oyster-pie, whether the effort was too great to bear the morsel to his plate; or if, from any other cause, his nature made a gen'ral pause, he gave a groan, it was his last, and life and oyster-pies were past. which of the doctors did the deed, the one who starv'd or he who fed, or whether nature, nothing loth, laugh'd at the counsels of them both, and, as they issued their commands, her victim took from both their hands, i know not, but it seems to me, to be the work of all the three. here it would be but idle folly to call on fruitless melancholy, to talk of blisters that in vain were spread to bring back life again; or all the lancet's power explore to wake the breath that breath'd no more; the stroke was struck, no human art could now withdraw the fatal dart. mutes marching on, in solemn pace, with gladden'd heart and sorrowing face, who, clad in black attire, for pay let out their sorrows by the day: the nodding plumes and 'scutcheon'd hearse would make a pretty show in verse; but 'tis enough, sir _jeffery_ dead, that his remains, enshrin'd in lead, and, cloth'd in all their sad array, to mingle with their native clay, were safe convey'd to that same bourne from whence no travellers return. --we must another track pursue, } life's varying path we have in view,-} our way quæ genus is with you! } canto v as our enlighten'd reason ranges o'er man and all his various changes, what sober thoughts the scenes supply, to hamper our philosophy; to make the expanding bosom swell with the fine things the tongue can tell! and it were well, that while we preach, we practice, what we're fain to teach. o, here might many a line be lent, to teach the mind to learn content, and with a manly spirit bear the stroke of disappointing care; awake a just disdain to smile on muckworm fortune base and vile, look on its threatnings to betray, as darksome clouds that pass away, and call on cheering hope to see some future, kind reality. --all who sir _jeffery_ knew could tell our hero serv'd him passing well; nay to the care which he bestow'd } the knight a lengthen'd period ow'd, } and such the thanks he oft avow'd. } quæ genus never lost his views of duty and its faithful dues; his honour no one could suspect, nor did he mark with cold neglect those services which intervene } in a sick chamber's sickly scene: } his duty thought no office mean, } and to sir _jeffery's_ closing sigh all, all was warm fidelity. nay, thus the knight would frequent own a grateful sense of service done; and oft, in words like these, he said, that duty shall be well repaid. "quæ genus, know me for your friend, i to your welfare shall attend; your friend while i retain my breath, and when that's gone, your friend in death." that death he felt as a disaster, for, to speak truth, he lov'd his master, nor did he doubt that a reward would prove that master's firm regard. 'tis nature, in life's worst vexation, to look at least for consolation; and he, 'tis true, had turn'd his eye to a consoling legacy, that might, at least, make some amends, for losing this his best of friends; but his ill luck we must not smother; he lost the one, nor found the other. the will was full of good intent, and a warm legacy was meant to poor quæ genus, there's no doubt, but shuffling fortune left it out; 'twas she cut short the kind bequest, which was thus fatally express'd. "to this my last and solemn will i add by way of codicil, my true and faithful servant's name, who to my care has every claim: --to john quæ genus i bequeath one month posterior to my death, the sum of here a blank ensued which has not yet been understood, or why the figures were delay'd that would a sterling gift have made. whether a sudden twitch of gout caus'd him to leave the figures out; or visit of a chatt'ring friend that did th' important words suspend, and thus retard the kind design, until the 'morrow's sun should shine, that 'morrow with its ha's and hums, which, often promis'd, never comes: howe'er the enquiring mind may guess it cannot find the wish'd success: in short, whatever cause prevail'd, too true, the gen'rous purpose fail'd. in the knight's mind the boon was will'd, but still the blank was never fill'd, and no more the said will engages than mourning suit and one year's wages, which all his household should inherit whate'er their station or their merit: here no distinction was display'd 'tween high and low, 'tween man and maid, and though quæ genus was the first, he had his portion with the worst. our hero thought it wond'rous hard thus to be foil'd of his reward, that which, in ev'ry point of view, he felt to be his honest due; and both his master and his friend did to his services intend; which, as the sun at noontide clear, does by the codicil appear: but when he ask'd sir _jeffery's_ heir } (who did so large a fortune share) } the blank hiatus to repair, } which he with truth could represent as an untoward accident, the wealthy merchant shook his head and bade him go and ask the dead. quæ genus ventur'd to reply while his breast heav'd a painful sigh, "the dead, you know, sir, cannot speak, but could the grave its silence break, i humbly ask your gen'rous heart, would not its language take my part, would it not utter, 'o fulfil the purpose of the codicil?' would it not tell you to supply the blank with a due legacy?" the rich man, turning on his heel, did not the rising taunt conceal. "all that the grave may please to say, i promise, friend, i will obey." what could be done with this high cit, but to look sad and to submit; for it could answer no good end though indispos'd to be a friend, that kind of discontent to show which might convert him to a foe. but ere we altogether leave sir _jeffery's_ grateful friends to grieve, we mean all those which to the sight were clearly writ, in black and white, within the bound'ries of the will, nor left to _blundering codicil_, it may not be amiss to draw the picture of the _heir at law_. when on the 'change he took his rounds, he walk'd an hundred thousand pounds: not less was his acknowledg'd worth when ev'ry morn he sallied forth, with expectation grave, to meet fortune's fresh smiles in lombard-street. upright in all his worldly dealing:- but that high sense of noble feeling, the humane impulse to relieve, to wipe the eye of those who grieve, the wish of goodness to impart the bounties of a gen'rous heart, these were not his; and though the scroll that may the charities enroll of gilded pride, upon the wall in some conspicuous hospital, might his known name and title bear, 'twas vanity that plac'd it there. but though, perhaps, a plum or more was added to his former store, if, by sad chance, with haggard mien, an humble suppliant should be seen, a mother sick, a father dead, and children, left forlorn, unfed, his hand ne'er ventur'd on his purse to give relief, and, what was worse, he would alarm the wretches' fears with beadles fierce and overseers, or talk of laws for vagrants made, which call the scourge-man to their aid. thus nought was look'd for at his hands, but justice strict to just demands: no smiling, generous overflow of fair reward would he bestow; no bounty did his thoughts prepare for duty's overweening care; while service, by affection wrought, was, in his reck'ning, set at nought. quæ genus gave in his account; its justness own'd, the full amount was duly paid, but i'll forgive the mind refusing to believe, that, when the rich man should discover that he had paid some nine-pence over, he did, without a look of shame, that pittance as a balance claim: it may appear full passing strange, but 'tis a fact, he took the change, and did the jingling half-pence greet, like fish-women in open street. e'en the worn wardrobe of the knight, which is esteem'd the valet's right, the gen'ral heir-loom of his place, was seiz'd by the curmudgeon base, and borne away, a paltry gain, to his own store in mincing-lane: but when, among the other dues, were order'd off the _gouty shoes_, quæ genus, with contempt inflam'd, thus, in a hearty tone, exclaim'd, "away, to the mean merchant bear 'em! heaven grant he may be forc'd to wear 'em!" --thus things went on;--then came the time, (the truth e'en shames my humble rhyme) when the executor and heir, for one did both the titles share, appear'd to pay, in legal guise, the wages and the legacies. quæ genus, who had lately been a favour'd actor in the scene, could not have guess'd at such disaster from such a friend and such a master: and though he strove, he scarce could hide the feelings of an honest pride, when, from sir _jeffery's_ error, he and those who wore a livery, nay even house and kitchen-maid were in the same proportions paid,- when his allotted mourning bore the same coarse stuff the coachman wore. but how his heart began to beat when he was charg'd for the _receipt_! all his distinction now was lost, and he who long had rul'd the roast, had, since sir _jeffery_ went to rest, been of his station dispossest; nay, not a common smile remain'd of all the favour he had gain'd, while beggarly mistrust took place, which he must feel as foul disgrace: for ev'ry key had been demanded; one instant made him empty-handed dismiss'd from his late envied station without a nod of approbation, he was preparing to depart with downcast look and heavy heart; nor could e'en molly's tender smile of one sad thought that heart beguile his farewell speech. "and now, i say, adieu, my friends, for here our fellow-service ends. you need not put on sorrowing faces; you will soon meet with ready places; 'tis me whose disappointing care, of cheering prospects, bids despair. --you all, i'm sure can well believe, i have most ample cause to grieve that cruel fortune thus should frown, when i thought her fond smiles my own. --sir _jeffery_ now is laid in dust, but when alive, how good, how just! and all who knew him well must know he never wish'd to use me so. had he believ'd his end so nigh, i should have had the legacy, which would have made me full amends for loss of fortune, loss of friends. another day had he surviv'd, to the next morning had he liv'd, it might, perhaps, have been my fate to know an independent state, as he had told me, o'er and o'er, i ne'er should go to service more. when i did on his wants attend he spoke as a familiar friend: how often too we might be seen chatting within the indian screen! whenever we were left alone, we seem'd not two, but were as one. i knew each tit-bit that he lov'd; he always what i gave approv'd; and as i stood beside his chair, attending with respectful air, he oft would bid me sit and dine, fill up his glass and pour out mine. --when thumb and finger he applied to the gold snuff box by his side, i shar'd the pinch, and he ne'er ceas'd to say, 'god bless you,' when i sneez'd; nay, when my snortings i repeated, he thus my awkward flurry greeted, 'my friend, familiarize your nose to this exhilarating dose, for sure as we together dine this box, quæ genus, shall be thine!' but that kind friend, alas! is dead, and box and snuff and all are fled. nay, had i now a hope on earth, and could engage in trifling mirth, i here might my complainings close with disappointments of my nose. --his common purse i could command, 'twas daily open to my hand; you all well know i paid his bills, and when, to ease his various ills, sir _midriff_ came, i us'd to squeeze into his palm the welcome fees. whene'er i showed my weekly book, he never gave the page a look; and when i urg'd it the good knight would smile and say, 'i'm sure 'tis right.' nay, i can say, in ev'ry sense, i ne'er abus'd his confidence: no, no, i never did purloin an atom of the lowest coin, and what i have to heaven is known, in honest truth, to be my own, then wonder not, i feel it hard, to be depriv'd of my reward, and, by such a chance, be hurl'd again to struggle with the world. reasons, besides, i must not tell, why the knight treated me so well; but i play'd no delusive part, and they did honour to his heart: of that heart, had he left a share, } as well as fortune to his heir, } i need not now indulge despair." } "mr. quæ genus, never fear," the coachman said, "your spirits cheer! dame fortune has look'd down 'tis plain, but the jade may look up again: 'tis true that dev'lish oyster-pie fell souse upon the legacy: e'en so it was, i cannot doubt it, but i would think no more about it. you so well know your p's and q's, that you have but to pick and chuse. i speak the truth, there are but few mr. quæ genus, such as you: and though the merchant will not give the bounty which you should receive, what though he would not spare a farthing to save a soul of us from starving, good names he'll give us, as he ought, for they we know will cost him nought; 'twere better therefore to be civil, and hold the candle to the devil, for we as servants cannot stir without a show of character. --as you perceive, i'm not a chick, and know enough to make one sick: nay, somewhat my experience lends, to guess at this world's odds and ends. i've been in many curious places; i've serv'd my lords,--and serv'd their graces; and, which gives work of more ado, i've even serv'd my ladies too: i knew to shut or ope my eyes, to see strange things, nor look surprise. sometimes good-luck has given a lift, and sometimes, i've been turn'd adrift; but should i live to judgement-day, no, i will never fail to say, that i ne'er so much comfort knew, as since this house was rul'd by you. --now, when you get an upper place, which soon, i'm sure, must be the case, if then your favour will contrive, i should my lord or lady drive, for i the reins can handle true of pairs, of fours, and sixes too, i promise, nay, my word engages to give you poundage from my wages. --i know you're gen'rous, kind and free, but here you will accord with me, that interest has a powerful weight both with the little and the great: you see it well by what is past, since your fine plan is overcast. i do not wish to give offence, but interest is common sense, and he who does not look to that, mr. quæ genus, is a flat." the blunt, rough _coachman_, said no more: when _molly's_ fine black eyes ran o'er: the _cook_ look'd grave, and _betty_ sigh'd, } the _kitchen-maid_ sat still and cried, } while _thomas_ not a word replied.- } quæ genus, not to be remiss, gave to each maid a friendly kiss, and when he whisper'd his adieu to charming _molly_, he gave two: perhaps, if they were counted o'er, her sweet lips might acknowledge more: then told her softly not to fear, and kindly whisper'd in her ear, "what e'er my lot, i will be true to fond affection and to you." our gloomy hero now departed, and left the mansion heavy-hearted, where in such comfort he had liv'd, nor, till dismiss'd it, ever griev'd, and, with a tardy step, retir'd to a snug lodging he had hir'd. thus once again by fortune thrown on the wide world, and all alone, without th' appearance of a friend on whose kind aid he could depend, quæ genus pac'd his lonely floor all to and fro and o'er and o'er, thinking what efforts might be made, what stroke be struck, what game be play'd, to place him in some active state that promis'd to be fortunate. one consolation he possest, } which, though it did not charm to rest } the rising troubles of his breast, } yet still, whatever might confound him, gave him full time to look around him, and, on whatever project bent, to weigh its views, and wait th' event. for, though his purse might not run o'er, he had a snug, sufficient store, to keep his anxious spirits free from any dread of penury, and guard him amidst toils and strife, against the insidious smiles of life, that do so often tempt the mind to cast discretion far behind, or make it fearful hazards try, impell'd by dire necessity. --he had not yet unripp'd his coat, } in which conceal'd lay every note } which he from _gripe-all's_ clutches got: } a hoard on which he might depend, when he look'd round nor saw a friend. besides, he had no trifle gain'd, while with sir _jeffery_ he remain'd; for though, as has been lately said, he never play'd a trick of trade; nor had he even thought it right to take a valet's perquisite, nor e'er allow'd his hands to seize the household steward's common fees, but of the strict and rigid law of duty ever stood in awe. --all this the knight full well believ'd, nor could he think himself deceiv'd, when once he answer'd to a friend, who did the young man's cares commend. "that same quæ genus is so just in all committed to his trust, to his right notions such a slave, he would not with a razor shave, nor use a strap, nor ply a hone, he had not purchas'd as his own."- thus, as most worthy of his charge, sir _jeffery's_ annual pay was large, and when th' allotted quarter came, something was added to his claim, which with such gen'rous grace was given, it seem'd like manna sent from heaven!- besides, his wages, being high, encreas'd the gen'ral legacy, which he with all the household shar'd; the last, and now his sole reward. thus so far independence brought a'gleam of comfort on his thought; he was not left on ruin's brink to sit and sigh, and swear and think. _two_ points alone he had in view, he thought it hard they were but _two_; nor could he call his fortune kind when they alone employ'd his mind: these were the doctors, won by fees to make most bounteous promises; and though these galens might deny 'em, he was at least resolv'd to try 'em; and, if sir midriff should decline, he would apply to anodyne. --the _former_, if he pleas'd, could well, and with strict truth, his value tell: for none with such experience knew that he was active, honest, true, and to his patient, well or ill, did ev'ry duteous care fulfil. nay, that it was the knight's good pleasure to speak of him as of a treasure. now, on his serious purpose bent, he to sir midriff bolus went; but then, alas! as we shall see, his face did not forebode a fee: nor did the great man smiling meet him, or with a tone familiar greet him, as his keen humour us'd to do when _golden sovereigns_ were in view: nor did he take him by the hand, as when it did the coin command. he now put on a curious leer, that said, "i pray, what brought _you_ here?" "i'm come to hope you'll condescend to prove yourself my promis'd friend," quæ genus said, "and with this view, i now present myself to you. you told me, 'when your master's gone, look on my friendship as your own.' he's gone, alas, i too well know, to me a most affecting blow: but still, i trust, i may engage your kind, protecting patronage, and, among those of rank and wealth who make you guardian of their health, your favour may smile on my fate, and i renew an household state, like that which crown'd my better days, when i enjoy'd your frequent praise." the doctor now his suppliant ey'd, and thus in hasty tone replied. "indeed i've something else to do than thus to be employ'd by you: i'm in great haste and must away, my patients wait, i cannot stay, to hear you, your fine story tell:- so, honest friend, i wish you well."- --thus when sir _jeffery's_ fees were o'er he thought not of quæ genus more. now, as he pac'd along the street, } thus did he to himself repeat, } "is this the fortune i must meet? } is this the merited reward which they receive who strive to guard their hearts against the tempting guise of int'rest and its sorceries; and say to virtue, 'maid divine! behold thy slave, i'm wholly thine!' --it is not that i now repent, or harbour selfish discontent, that i should hesitate to seize the golden opportunities which were presented to my power, not ev'ry day, but ev'ry hour, while with sir _jeffery gourmand_ i enjoy'd the means those arts to ply, which, by the curious eye unseen, might with such gains have pregnant been: no, no, thank heaven, i'm not embued with that worst vice, ingratitude; an odious vice that is of kin to every other mortal sin. i felt his kindness, and where'er my lot may be of pain and care, those kind reflections i possess to make me smile in my distress, that i ne'er for a moment swerv'd from the best duties he deserv'd; nay, which he, to his closing days, so often honour'd with his praise,- and should it be my lot to find another master good and kind, whose gen'rous heart would condescend to treat quæ genus as a friend, this i may truly boast, that he } should find an humble friend in me, } whose soul is faithful loyalty! } i would the path of truth pursue as i have long been us'd to do; and where, howe'er oblig'd to bend to pressing views, my wishes tend. but, in this world of chance and change, as it appears, i'm doom'd to range, and i may be oblig'd to treat it as it will be my lot to meet it. i will not rob nor will i steal, } but from myself i'll not conceal } the secret purpose which i feel. } commandments i will never break, but when fair interest is at stake, i'll follow in my future views the conduct which the world pursues; and when that principle i own, the world will have no right to frown. thus whatsoe'er may be my station, where chance may fix my next vocation i'll keep discretion in my view, as prudent folk profess to do. --but ere throughout the town at large i look for some inviting charge, though with one doctor i have fail'd, another now shall be assail'd; though brilliant prospects may not shine, yet i'll e'en go to anodyne. the quack may prove a better friend than e'er sir midriff might intend; at all events, howe'er perverse, 'tis plain he cannot prove a worse; howe'er that be, i can but try."- --thus clos'd his thoughts' soliloquy. quæ genus now pass'd up the court the sickly patient's still resort, where, in a corner quite retired, the mansion stood which he desired, whose door, bedight with darksome green and mouldings edg'd with black, is seen; while letter'd gold appears to shine and tell the name of anodyne. he touch'd the well-known tinkling-bell that did some sickly presence tell, when the door op'd with rapid force, and patients glided in of course. there was ne'er heard a knocker's sound, to rouse the idle neighbours round, or to the windows call the eye of peeping curiosity. the signal was not given twice; quæ genus enter'd in a trice and sought the solemn doctor's nook, where he sat with a folio book, some ancient galen's learned creed, which 'tis not certain he could read: alone, o'er this he gravely doz'd, but when the sick arriv'd, he clos'd the cumbrous volume, and gave ear the tale of some distress to hear. to johnny this was no new scene, for here he had full often been, but as he _fee-less_ ne'er before had hasten'd through the well-known door, he felt some doubts within his mind what sort of welcome he should find. sir midriff's conduct it appears, had chang'd his promis'd hopes to fears; and when he felt such rude disdain from one who rul'd in warwick-lane, who boasted of superior knowledge to all the learned of the college; who from his frequent promise swerv'd, to one who his kind smiles deserv'd; yet ev'ry day, and ev'ry hour, possess'd the patronising power, with mere commending words to gain the boon quæ genus ask'd in vain;- what good then could his hopes supply from the low pride of quackery, from one who rested his pretence on nostrums and on impudence. but he had felt that in life's dance, we often owe to strokes of chance, that unexpected good prevail'd where reason's better hopes have fail'd. such thoughts the purpose did incline to make his bows to anodyne. the doctor with a friendly air, } 'rose from his dictatorial chair, } and pleasure told to see him there: } when thus quæ genus in reply, began the following colloquy. quæ genus. "sir _jeffery_, as, i trust, you know, is gone, sir, where we all must go; in spite of all your healing power, has reach'd, at length, his final hour, though had he trusted all to you, } and to sir midriff bade adieu, } which he was half inclin'd to do, } perhaps, my present visit here would not so penniless appear; for i am come, as you must see, without the pass-port of a fee. it is self-interest, i fear, yes, i must own it, brings me here. since his departure i am hurl'd to push my fortune in the world, and may i now with courage say, you will assist me on my way? --such is, alas! my alter'd case, i'm seeking for another place, though e'en my visionary mind can never hope again to find such a so envied household post, as that which i have lately lost. with fortune i shall ne'er contend but smile on that which she may send; and of whatever state possest, be satisfied and act my best. now, as i've reason well to know, though 'tis not you have told me so, that persons of superior worth, the wealthy and of noble birth; who, tir'd of physic's settled rules, as taught in colleges and schools, have sought your bold and fearless skill, the potent drafts and secret pill, which your _acumen_ can impart, beyond the reach of drudging art, and i have heard will cure the pain, when boasting science tries in vain: nor is this all, the tonish fair attend to seek your healing care. when here i've for sir _jeffery_ been, } dames of high figure i have seen, } lolling behind your folding screen } with all their gay caricatures the lively eye's attractive lures. broad bonnets all beflower'd o'er, are often passing through your door, and i have glanc'd at many a shawl that glided through your gloomy hall. when such grand visitors as these apply to you to give them ease; and when your skill relieves their pain, that is the time their grace to gain, and then, good doctor, you might see if you could gain a grace for me; while to some patient you commend the service of your humble friend: nor will he fail returns to make, which you may condescend to take; and grateful memory will repay your kindness to his dying day." the modest suit was not denied, and thus, th' assenting don replied. "quæ genus, my regards are thine, as sure as my name's anodyne. --if worth lay in a flatt'ring tongue, you would not want a service long; for if you do with caution use it, where is the ear that will refuse it? 'tis but the art how to apply the well-conceal'd artillery, and, more or less, the well-told tale will o'er the pliant mind prevail. your int'rest, friend, i'll not neglect, perhaps do more than you expect; nay, i e'en may your mind surprise, when i mark how that int'rest lies;- but 'tis not where your hopes may look, 'tis not that page in fortune's book. --the higher folk who come to me are all involv'd in secrecy: those who can't walk employ a hack, when they employ the humble quack: hence, no fine carriages resort about the purlieus of my court, for the rich owners, with their wealth, blush to pass this bye-way to health. such is proud fashion's powerful rule o'er many a purse-proud, titled fool: they tell me all their sickness claims, but seem afraid to tell their names. --there's an old man i sometimes see, and faith he brings a handsome fee, whose hackney always drops his fare just by, in the adjoining square: where, when we've clos'd our consultation, he hobbles to regain his station. in a loose coat of common wear, this person chuses to appear; with his round hat and dingy caxon, he calls himself a mr. jackson; though still his manners and his words are such as highest rank affords: and, sure as i e'er gave a puke, i know the man to be a duke.- but i, of course, the secret keep, and let his splendid titles sleep. --i have two ladies now in hand, whose whims and fancies i command: they tell of humours on the skin, but then they only shew their chin; no other part they let me see, such is their bashful fantasy. they seem to think i doubt their graces, as veils o'erspread their pimpled faces, so that where'er they chuse to show 'em, i do not think that i should know 'em. yet by their chat they have betray'd, that one's a wife, and one's a maid: nor from the names can they refrain of _lady bell_ and _lady jane_. they never fail in their appointments, and are fast curing by my ointments: thus, from their praise, i hope to claim an added honour to my name. nor are these all; for many more } of wealth and rank pass through my door; } though still as i have said before, } they to such aid as mine apply all mask'd in fearful secrecy. these whims i have explain'd, to prove i cannot in this quarter move; and where i could your worth commend it would degrade you to attend. but i shall now unfold to view, another chance i have for you: and let your patience ope its ear to all you are about to hear. "'tis not to breathe the tonish air } of portland-place, or grosv'nor-square, } or stand behind her grace's chair: } 'tis not to serve the titled beaux, and flourish in your master' clothes: 'tis not, as you are wont, to grace some peopled household's highest place, though well-accomplish'd as you are, 'tis chance alone can place you there: for, through your days, you may not boast a master such as you have lost; nay, your precarious life may end before a master proves a friend; and, after all, old age may come without an alms-house for a home. think, think in what a woeful plight the man must live who's pocket's light! are not his hours by want depress'd? penurious care corrodes his breast; without respect, or love, or friends, his solitary day descends. o be not led away by pride, but use the means that may provide for future wants, when evils press, and life is pregnant with distress! hear me, my friend, nor let surprise with staring looks burst from your eyes, when i, in language frank and free,- tell you to come and _live with me_. "think not i want you for a hack, a serving menial to a quack; if to my interests you attend, } you will be treated as a friend. } on this be sure you may depend, } that you will find a better station, in profit as in inclination, than were you hired to be solus behind the chair of doctor bolus. --within a week, perhaps a day, you'll see the part you have to play. the man i had, whom you have seen, might still beneath this roof have been, but he by coughing was worn down to a poor gasping skeleton, and 'twere not fit i should endure one in my house i could not cure he would not prove a tempting sign to spread the fame of anodyne: but in the time he here remain'd, he had a little fortune gain'd. --your knowledge, which i well can trace, } is far above a servant's place, } and would a higher station grace. } the pleasing manners you possess, your winning speech and nice address, might call to your ambitious view, an higher state than you pursue; though still your savings you might waste, before you're suited to your taste. --such aid as your's i long have wanted, and if my warm proposal's granted, you must at once grow wond'rous dull, or soon your pocket will be full: here, in one year, you will get more than with your noble lords in four. nay, on the honour of a friend, who no deception can intend, you'll greatly err, if you decline such an official place as mine. --i'll teach you how to cup and bleed; these operations you will need; the pulses' movements you shall know, when they are either high or low: while other symptoms of disease i can communicate with ease. all this, if i the truth discern, your ready mind will quickly learn. besides 'tis right to let you know you'll have no nauseous work to do; for the old woman spreads the blisters, rolls up the pills and stirs the clysters. while 'tis my hand alone composes the patients' necessary doses, and your chief care is to dispense these med'cines with your eloquence. --but i have sick folk to attend, so while away an hour, my friend: and as i trust you'll stay and dine, we'll close our bargain o'er our wine." canto vi it often happens as we range through life, an unexpected change, with sudden stroke may pain destroy and turn our thoughts from grief to joy: or as some shock cuts off relief may turn a flow of joy to grief. thus our days' varying system bears th' alternate play of hopes and fears: nay, when more pleasant views provoke, may turn our gravity to joke. besides, as in the drama's art, the scene displays the varying part, so apt are we to play the fool, we serve for our own ridicule: and when sly fortune's pleas'd to vary our progress with some strange vagary, we oft become such merry elves to burst with laughter at ourselves. thus as quæ genus pac'd the room, reflecting on the time to come, and all the heap of promis'd good by anodyne to be bestow'd; that he was to be cramm'd with wealth, and turn all sickness into health; his fancy, tickled at the thought, he set each serious wish at nought, and laugh'd till his sides seem'd to crack, to think he should become a quack. but when he had indulg'd the joke which this idea might provoke, he thought more gravely of the case and vow'd to take the proffer'd place: at all events, he could but try this self-same scheme of quackery: at least some knowledge he should gain, and knowledge never comes in vain. indeed, what harm, if he succeed in the arts of cupping and of bleeding? the lancet's power to command might be of use in any hand, and e'en in any hand might save a forlorn suff'rer from the grave; while he might well instructed be in principles of pharmacy. he also felt that application might fit him for a better station; that in some distant country town, he might a _galen's_ title own: where, if his fortune did not vary, he might strut an apothecary. thus between gravity and smile conceit play'd its full part the while, though not without a view to gains which might reward his present pains: indeed he knew the means that made 'em, for he had for sir _jeffery_ paid 'em: as while for potion, pill and plaister a golden fee awaits the master; he found it was a useful plan, with lesser coin, to fee the man, who had the means to lift the latch that did the secret wish dispatch; and could th' impatience set to rest of the more eager, grumbling guest. --thus, with lively hope high-season'd, quæ genus walk'd about and reason'd; and, in his pericranium fast, this grave opinion fix'd at last: if not in honour, yet in purse, _he might go further and fare worse_,- but if no other good were done, there might be sure a world of fun. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus with a quack doctor.] patients that morning had been plenty, not less it seems than five-and-twenty; this the old woman smiling stated, and told him that the dinner waited. the table shew'd a plenteous treat } of fish and fowl and sav'ry meat, } but poor quæ genus scarce could eat. } for, though prepar'd for any diet, his hunger soon repos'd in quiet. the doctor fed, but talk'd the while, of gastric juice and flowing bile; of kidneys and o'ergrowing liver, as of sore eyes now cur'd for ever; what his fam'd _nostrum_ had perform'd, and how it had the bowels storm'd of guttling gourmand with such force, that it a passage made of course, which three great doctors tried in vain, with all their boasted skill to gain. besides our hero did not know how cookery went on below, and he might think, poor dainty sinner, that the same hands had dress'd the dinner, which were entrusted with the care each daily med'cine to prepare; to melt the salves and spread anon the cerates and diacolon; that did the drugs or grind or pound, and dress the sore leg's running wound: but so it was, a sick sensation check'd all his powers of mastication, and caus'd his stomach to resent the very taste of nutriment: nay his sad appetite approv'd when all the dishes were remov'd. --they therefore soon had ceas'd to dine } and o'er the second pint of wine } the bargain clos'd with anodyne. } what that was, it is fit to know, and the verse now will briefly show. quæ genus had made up his mind not to his interest to be blind; but in the game that path pursue which prudence says we ought to do, nor to let scruples overpower th' advantage of the passing hour, and yet that artifice restrain whose daily efforts are for gain: in short to take the middle plan, } which, as the world is us'd to scan, } marks what is call'd an _honest man_. } he might not hesitate complying with a small spice of useful lying that idle questions might disarm, do some slight good, but never harm, afford a sentimental grace to conversation's common place, and give a customary aid to all the retail slang of trade. with mind thus settled and prepar'd he anodyne's first lecture heard. and as it surely was the best, we shall pass over all the rest. anodyne. "this the first rule that i shall trace:- you must command a solemn face; nor suffer objects to beguile your features to familiar smile. here, i must own, you oft may see what may court transient pleasantry; for e'en 'midst misery and pain, you'll find such whims and fancies reign, hear patients cough and grunt and sneeze in such uncouth, discordant keys, that without care, i should not wonder your muscles into laugh might blunder. you have a speech runs off at score, as rapid as a chaise and four, but with my sickly folk be slow as a stage-waggon's us'd to go; and pray remember to apply your words with due solemnity. i know you well can suit your tongue to any age, to old or young; nor will the task your care perplex in the complaints of either sex; and bear in mind, whate'er you see, to veil your thoughts with modesty: but hear the great and leading rule of this my esculapian school. "i care not by what name you call this spacious parlour, room or hall: but here my daily patients range whose order you must never change: were i to take them one by one, by heaven i should ne'er have done; and, therefore, govern'd by their feather i thus assort my birds together. here, on the right, are duly seated those who for gouty freaks are treated, then comes the symptomatic fever, and next the bilious and their liver: then follow others in their turn, the chills which shake, the heats that burn; the stomachs which will ne'er digest the food their feeders love the best; the wheesers too are not far off, all those who hem and spit and cough, with such, not of the happiest kind, whose bowels threat to crack with wind the hypochondres here repose impatient for the cordial dose, and children on the carpet brawl, till my spice biscuits calm the squall. "i first review th' assembled tribe then walk off stately and prescribe, when i consign to your quick sense th' appropriate med'cines to dispense, to all the classes in your view, } with gentle tone and caution due: } see then how much depends on you. } each case that asks superior art i send into a room apart; and _there_ i never feel alarm; i play no tricks and do no harm. when i a desp'rate illness see, for patients must not die with me, i recommend them to repair to goat's-milk and the country air; and when such counsel they receive they do not fail to take their leave, full of my candour and disdain of any little paltry gain. deep cuts, sore legs and gummy eyes, with all the common casualties, i with my healing dame bestow, in her snug, secret cell below: indeed i've sometimes star'd to see the wonders of her surgery. --'tis true 'mong doctors i'm not famous, but still i'm not an _ignoramus_; for i can play a skillfull part in elements of chymic art; i give the drafts a varying hue, to-day so red, to-morrow blue, and touch them with a diff'rent savour, to give a worse or better flavour, as it may suit, then change their name, } though they may be the very same, } both in their object and their aim. } "it is with me a leading fashion to play thus with imagination; a symptom that doth never cease, or more or less in all disease. there are sly shifts in ev'ry trade, which money calls in to its aid: but here i'd have it understood, if when my practice does no good, my conscience never has the qualm, that i do any real harm. nor are my various cures unknown as placards tell of my renown! my nostrums oft my hopes fulfil, nor do i know they ever kill. those cases which i've cause to doubt, and cannot find their symptoms out, i never fail to leave to nature, who is a wonder-working creature: and my chief cures which make a stir,- i e'en must own i owe to her.- --such the great object of my care.- fear not, you will th' advantage share. but know, when all my sick are here, you as _inferior_ must appear; but business o'er and they are gone, then good quæ genus, we are one!" at length the compact was agreed, } and all things promis'd to succeed: } our hero soon could cup and bleed; } and, with a kind, officious grace, the med'cine gave in time and place; nay, as occasion might afford, bitters improve with sweet'ning word: he had acquir'd the art to please with welcome flatt'ries such as these. "_how stout your legs appear to-day! i trust you have walk'd all the way! and ere that our brief work is done, we shall have taught you how to run!_" "_o madam! how i must rejoice, that you have lost your husky voice; soon i doubt not that i shall find your tones are of the sweetest kind_!" "_and that fine face i griev'd to view when cloth'd in such a pallid hue; but i have seen, this passing week, the colour coming on your cheek. and if some ill does not oppose, we soon shall see the tender rose: and hope's a friend that will supply the prospect which, i trust, is nigh_." now sometimes he would give a scope to his propensity to joke. for 'mid this pale-fac'd, grumbling mess 'twere well to stir some chearfulness: for if a parson chose to squeeze a lady on her crummy knees, (for here a little play and prate might cheer a sickly _tête-à-tête_) his whisper might perchance declare, "doctor, her pulses are not there." --at all events, things went on well, as the pleas'd verse may freely tell; and the young doctor ne'er complain'd of what he by his office gain'd. but here we now shall change our road and slip into an _episode_; it is a common way we know, in which much better poets go: though pride will not suggest that we can be accus'd of _poetry_; yet we must own that, in our time, we have stirr'd up some reams of _rhyme_. howe'er that be, we now must come to steer our hero's walks from home. among the few who sought the aid of anodyne's more secret trade, was one who sent a written case which did his various symptoms trace: thus, when the quack prepar'd the dose, quæ genus took it snug and close: he only knew the cordial sent, to whom address'd, and where it went: besides it was his daily task questions of import grave to ask. how was his pulse? how had he slept? if tremors o'er the system crept? with such enquiries as our verse might feel it awkward to rehearse. of that no more, the patient's name was _woodlands_, known in rural fame: through early years, a sportsman he, the flower of hunting chivalry; was rich, and as he well was able, saw jovial sportsmen round his table, drank hard and lov'd the evening glee, with those who drank as hard as he. but gout, with other ills came on, and jovial life was pass'd and gone: health's active season now was o'er, when he could hunt and feast no more. he sold his hounds and took a wife, to soothe the latter years of life; but they were few, as we shall see, in spite of care and quackery. she was a _belle_ of rural fame, who gave her troth and bore his name: whate'er had been her hopes and views when she did an old husband chuse, the knowledge we do not profess, but leave the gen'rous mind to guess. at all events, her outward mien, as it should be had always been, nor had a jealous eye suspected her duty had been e'er neglected. but as infirm he now was grown, } at her desire, he came to town } to seek physicians of renown. } he first had one, he then had two, but their prescriptions did not do; when still her care prevail'd, and she another sought, so he had three; and no more good seem'd to be done, than if he had been seen by none. --thus matters stood, nay he grew worse when an old busy, chattering nurse, talk'd of the cures, almost divine, of our friend doctor anodyne. the drowning catch at any reed, and all is help in desp'rate need: thus the rich man propos'd to try the boasted aid of quackery, and what he wish'd, amelia said, with anxious smile, must be obey'd. --thus then it is, as we have seen, quæ genus has the attendant been; but now we are about to see what a snug _proteus_ he can be. the lady, to his great surprise, oft view'd him with enquiring eyes, and did a kind attention show which he thought queer she should bestow, but he soon found the matter out; madam herself clear'd up the doubt, as, in her _boudoir's_ still recess, she did her quiet thoughts express. in a soft, pleasant tone she spoke, as half in earnest half in joke; but as she thus her mind unveil'd, it might be seen what thought prevail'd. "there's something in your air and face } that tells me you will not disgrace } the trust which i now wish to place } in your obedience to my will; and if you do that trust fulfil, if you act up to my intent, quæ genus never shall repent." --his fingers on his lips he press'd, he clos'd his hands upon his breast; with most submissive air he bow'd, and secresy he swore and vow'd; when madam _woodlands_ thus proceeded: (i scarce need add that she succeeded.) "you do a doctor's business ply; now do not stare,--for so do i: there is a pale-fac'd patient too whose certain cure i have in view, and i've a med'cine that will prove specific,--as he's sick of love; it will, in time, set all at ease, and cure the pangs of his disease; for no prescription can be better than that contain'd within this letter, which you, my friend, must understand to give into the patient's hand. believe me too, when you are told, you'll find it worth its weight in gold. --there is," she said, "a smile i see now stealing on your gravity; but know, quæ genus i do nought that is with base dishonour fraught; my whims, though secret, common-sense will clothe in garb of innocence."- in short, but not without a fee, he took the balmy recipe, and ev'ry time he bore a letter the patient's case was growing better. thus fortune kindly did bestow two strings to our keen hero's bow; and to his wishes, in good troth, he reap'd no common gains from both. --but here, another lucky hour did on his hopes new promise pour: for madam _woodlands_ more than hinted, if, in his present projects stinted, he should no longer wish to shine with quackery and anodyne, he might, by her all-fav'ring grace, attain her household's highest place. he saw, and not by way of whim, this was the very place for him; but still he felt he could not quit, as in a momentary fit, that state he to the doctor ow'd, and which such benefit bestow'd; then, without proper warning, leave him, or with some scurvy tale deceive him, he saw in any point of view that honour prompts, it would not do. thus, in a state of constant doubt, he scarce knew what he was about, and to the daily patients gave their med'cines just as chance would have. to all diseases waiting there } he did not e'en appear to care } what was the complaint or where, } if it was fever or the gout; but left each dose to find it out. --thus strange indeed, but it appear'd the healing shop would soon be clear'd, the patients calmly pass'd away; } nay, some of them were rather gay, } and fees forsook th' impoverish'd day. } when this change our quæ genus saw, he thought awhile and felt an awe, when it struck sudden on his sense, that his so wicked negligence, had caus'd, perhaps, the final doom of many an inmate of the room; but, on a fearful search, he found, not one of them was under ground, nay, that by giving med'cines wrong, he did their precious lives prolong; at least no harm they had endur'd, for by his blund'ring they were cur'd. shrewd anodyne, of course, suspected that his prime bus'ness was neglected; indeed he clearly understood quæ genus did more harm than good, and therefore, without much delay, hinted in a good-humour'd way, "you're tir'd, my friend, as it appears, (of which i've sometime had my fears) you're tir'd of the _galenic art_; 'twere better, therefore, that we part." quæ genus made a calm reply, with acquiescing modesty: nor was a harsh, unpleasant word from these dissolving doctors, heard. in truth, each party was good-hearted; so they shook hands and thus they parted. our _proteus_ now is seen to grace another and a favour'd place; the confidential servant he in 'squire _woodlands'_ family: but the poor 'squire was hast'ning fast to that sad hour which prov'd his last; for soon, alas, the fatal gout got in his head, and let life out; when madam made a quick retreat from town to the fine country seat which now was her's, with all the rest of the great wealth which he possess'd. what tears the widow'd lady shed in sorrow o'er her husband dead, whether as they her cheeks bedew'd, they flow'd from grief or gratitude; how calm or poignant was her woe, we tell not, for we do not know. yet this we can with safety tell, because we surely know it well, that through her husband's sickly life she was a tender nurse and wife. --but now another scene appears, dispers'd her grief, dried up her tears; rich as she was and still a beauty, she look'd to change her line of duty; 'twas nature's act, as all will see who read her little history. in earlier years, ere she was led by hymen to the marriage bed, valcour and she each other lov'd, but their fond passion hopeless prov'd. --she was high-bred with fortune small, and his commission was his all: for though he was of ancient line } and did with noble virtues shine, } he was the youngest child of nine; } and ere her marriage rites were o'er he sought renown on india's shore. what he thus bravely sought he found, and once more trod on british ground, with that, but little else beside, a month before old woodlands died. he let her hear that still he lov'd, she wrote, nor said she disapprov'd; that was the recipe to cure the doubts his bosom might endure; in which quæ genus was employ'd, and caus'd the good he now enjoy'd. --but then she acted with discretion; as her fond husband's sole possession she would not, at his last, allow the promise of a future vow: she felt her tender inclination, as a reversionary passion she must not own for him she lov'd, till death each hindrance had remov'd. for due decorum she obey'd, and the sage widow's period stay'd; nor till time pull'd the hatchment down, did she her _valcour's_ wishes crown: but crown'd they were; a splendid show did fortune on the rites bestow, when hymen call'd on love to shower its roses o'er the nuptial bower. quæ genus did the sports contrive which kept the country-folk alive, and all the scatter'd bounties flow'd as his disposing hand bestow'd, nor did one over-curious mind suspect that any lurk'd behind. nay, it was order'd to his care } the gen'ral figure to prepare } that was to blaze in portman-square. } he, who had sometime form'd the plan to set up for a _gentleman_, well knew the purse alone could aid the progress of that pretty trade, and now had learn'd, quite at his ease, to take the upper servant's fees, which to fulfil his growing aim, in a resistless plenty came. --valcour was grand, his _eastern taste_ was not dispos'd to run to waste; madam had never yet made known her beauty to th' admiring town, and ready wealth was now at hand their mutual wishes to command: plutus with fashion standing by } impatient languish'd to supply } each wish of glowing luxury. } the tonish trade display'd its store where our quæ genus kept the door; in various forms, a numerous host all strove who should affect him most, and by what tempting means engage, his trusty, promis'd patronage. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus with a spendthrift.] whene'er enquiry makes a stir to trace the human character, the strict and scrutinising eye must look for human frailty, and will perceive as on we range, our dispositions prone to change, nor like the features of the face, fix'd on their first-born, native place. so many tempting sirens play their games to lead the heart astray, so many gay temptations smile the wav'ring prudence to beguile; so many worldly interests wake the pliant feelings to forsake and wander from the beaten road in which they hitherto have trod; that reason from her judgement-seat must, with a tender rigour, treat the venial errors of the mind, and in severity be kind. --our hero an example shews to ask the candour we propose, for he, we are compell'd to own, had given his thoughts a different tone. as we have said, it was his plan to be a _future gentleman_, and that he only could attain by seizing all the means to gain an added heap to that same store which luck'ly he possess'd before. he, therefore, now had laid aside those scruples which his boasted pride maintain'd against the retail sense of the shrewd _grocer's_ eloquence, while, with sir _jeffery gourmand_, he preserv'd such pure fidelity. --and here it should not be forgot that it was _molly's_ happy lot, by some keen plan which he had laid, to be the lady's fav'rite maid: for _molly_ he sincerely lov'd, and was with gen'rous passion mov'd; nay, when his project he should carry, he had engag'd the maid to marry: thus she was well prepar'd to join in forwarding the main design; which as it may, perhaps, appear from the surmises hinted here, was never, never to refuse what custom offer'd as their dues, and all the op'ning hand of chance might gather from extravagance. how far this system may succeed will soon be seen by those who read. this valcour was a noble creature, splendid and gen'rous in his nature; nor had these feelings been decreas'd by the profusion of the east, which he from well-earn'd station shar'd; but honour was his chief reward. he no amass'd pagodas brought whence treasures are so often sought: yet he, the favour'd lot of few, as they bright fortune's track pursue, though india gave him mod'rate store, found plenteous wealth on britain's shore. --full many a well fought field he try'd, and mars beheld his course with pride, nay bade the wreath of triumph glow the hero's pride, upon his brow, while knighthood's pointed star express'd the tinsel glitter on his breast. but venus, who such things disposes chang'd all the laurel into roses; and hymen did his state enfold in saffron mantle, rich with gold. as nature in its fancies varies, sir charles indulg'd in his vagaries, with a wild love of shew and figure; yet still he was resolv'd with rigour, a line of prudence to pursue and keep discretion in his view. full droll indeed it may appear but thus he chose to persevere: not to run out was all that he consider'd as oeconomy; if his rents answer'd what he spent he'd bless his stars and be content; but never did his views appear to look upon the coming year. nor e'er did he his mind distress to know if he could live on less: nay at the thought how he would laugh, when told that he could live on half, and felt affront, if 'twere repeated that by his servants he was cheated. --such a receipt to pamper ruin nay to hurry an undoing, has seldom given so queer a chance to gratify extravagance. --but so it was--quæ genus thought just as the rising fancy taught: while, in mock fashion's borrow'd pride, molly was seated by his side. now as her needle made its way some 'broider'd figure to display, thinking, perhaps, how well her art gave semblance to a two-fold heart; he fondly call'd her willing ear with all attention due to hear. quæ genus. "plac'd as we are, it seems to be the height of that prosperity which such as we can e'er enjoy; and it becomes us to employ the means it offers to possess our views of future happiness. i doubt not, molly, but you feel, for your sweet lady, all the zeal, which flows alike from due regard as the just hope of due reward: but still, i think, it must appear that we've a doubtful course to steer; how we may keep within the line, } our great folks' interest to combine } with what we know is yours and mine. } they are with generous grace endued, to us how kind they are and good. but life with them is nought but pleasure; luxurious show fills up the measure of all their hours, as they run on through each meander of the ton. they sometimes talk of prudent schemes, and reason's language veils the dreams; but the incessant love of change invites the unreflecting range 'neath ev'ry dome where pride resorts and fashion holds her motley courts; though while they for their pleasures roam we too well know their cost at home. this proud parade can never last, their ready wealth will soon be past. --nay, when i bring the month's account, and silent point to the amount; he tells my lady what i've done, and she exclaims, ''tis precious fun!- we need not for our ruin fear with such a careful guardian near!' when i point out the triple charge in many a bill display'd at large, she says, 'quæ genus, do not grieve, tradesmen, my honest friend, must live! nay, when from service you retire, and sit all plodding by your fire in thought what profits should repay the labours of the closing day;- when o'er some door we see your name, } a dealer of great retail fame, } you have our leave to do the same.' } "i made my bow and answer'd nought, but then i paid it off in thought; and, as their gen'rous leave they give, like others to play tricks and live, i may begin, perhaps, before my name is painted on the door; and, in good time, my fortune try with that same prosp'ring honesty. --i tell you, molly, 'tis as clear as we, dear girl, are sitting here, that our great folks were both created so rich, please fortune, to be cheated. and we must aid them, as you see, thus to fulfil their destiny. for trifles we'll not make a fuss, they will not be the worse for us: if we do not our pockets fill, others there are who quickly will, but not by any paltry gains, as pilfering of _sovereigns_. you must not crib a handsome shawl and say 'twas lost at such a ball; nor will you in some corner place a card or roll of costly lace, that when you think she has forgot it, you to your own use may allot it:- nor, when she gives a thrice-worn dress your vanity and wish to bless, do not within its wide folds smother, as if by chance, just such another, as she'd not miss it 'mid such plenty a wardrobe of full five-and-twenty, while others, 'mid the toilet's din are almost daily pouring in. can we such means as these pursue?- would it be just in me and you: though i guess by your waggish smile, what you are thinking of the while. but still i feel it is not right that you should lose your perquisite; nor do i, my dear girl, incline e'er to forego the claim to mine, and tempting opportunity may tell us what those claims should be, as 'tis our right to seize the chance that's furnish'd by extravagance, when call'd upon to prove our taste in saving what would run to waste; for rumpled fin'ry, all thrown by, is safer in our custody. --when t'other day the knight bespoke a new great-coat and hussar cloak; 'sure, sir,' i said, 'you have forgot of these same coverings what a lot, neither be-spotted, scratch'd or torn and some of them have scarce been worn, which are all hanging in the hall:'- 'they're old,' he said, 'so take them all.' --i bow'd and took them to my keeping; snug in my wardrobe they are sleeping. it is the same, i know it well, you of your lady have to tell: i doubt not but your hoard encreases of spencers, mantles and pelisses: but let it be our mutual boast that sage precaution rules the roast; and take care that we never deal in any thing that looks like stealing. my books are fair, accounts are right, in them my honour's sound and tight: valet i am and butler both, a rare advantage to our cloth, and there's no day, nay scarce an hour but tempting profits court my power, yet may dread _heaven_ above forsake me, and _old nick_ in his fury take me, if i the pilf'ring track pursue which hireling knaves so often do. when from the shopmen we receive the somethings they are us'd to give as their long, bouncing bills are paid, 'tis not our knight is tax'd, but trade, though should we not our poundage claim _sum totals_ would be just the same. --e'en when, as if a boon, i crave some superfluity to save, perhaps he'll tell me i'm a fool, or threat to floor me with a stool. --last week, he said, 'at our next fête, (mind what i say and hold your prate) let the desert in splendour shine with gay plateaus and many a pine.' when as, to check the cost's encrease, i hinted what they were a piece, he ranted, 'if there are not _five_, thou slave, i'll cut you up alive. dare you look piteous? for then you scurvy clown, i'll order _ten_.' "these gay delusions cannot last, the spendthrift scene will soon be past; and, in another year or two you'll see that what i say is true. when banker's checks, that easy pay like fancy's ghosts have pass'd away, when the whole funded wealth is sold another story will be told; when all the ready cash is flown, the country-rents will change their tone, nor will the half-grown oaks supply the means for one year's luxury. crabbed entail will rise beside } and dare the acres to provide } the power to feed their needy pride, } and mortgage-deeds in vain will strive to keep the piteous show alive. while thus the vain folk whom we serve, do from each point of prudence swerve, while thus they waste in such a way, to luxury the willing prey, i know, my girl, what i've to do, and faith, shall leave the rest to you!" molly. "my dearest friend, you are so clever, that i could hear you talk for ever. let not quæ genus be afraid, he ne'er shall want my ready aid; for surely to his heart 'tis known, } his ev'ry interest is my own, } at least i feel that we are one. } o yes, i comprehend him well!" but now she heard her lady's bell, a summons that must be attended,- so here the conversation ended. thus valcour and his brilliant dame attain'd their folly's highest aim, to scale the ladder of the ton as many wealthy fools have done, and laugh, if they should hear the call, "your foot may slip and you may fall." they did in every thing agree, with the same eye each object see. "whate'er you fancy must appear so very right my dearest dear!- and whatsoe'er you do approve, cannot be wrong, my sweetest love!" --such was their billing and their cooing, as they were hast'ning on to ruin; nor did they see that _fashion_ laugh'd, while she their costly nectar quaff'd; or 'mid the crowds that might attend their banquets, they had not a friend. but such too often is the case where folly takes the highest place; and upstart fortune fain would be the ape of rank and family. there vulgar wealth pays dear for places with lordships, ladyships and graces, who at its table may appear } or once or twice or thrice a year, } when luxury does the feast prepare; } and yet their host but coldly greet, if they should meet him in the street. --but true or not, howe'er that be, in this career of vanity, winter's fine pleasures pass'd away and summer made the country gay, while fashion now set out to grace the country seat and wat'ring place, valcour and madame now were seen parading on the brighton stein, but where, though envied and admir'd, with the same scenes they soon were tir'd: besides 'twas decent to retreat and give life to their ancient seat. thus while th' astonish'd natives stare _woodlands_ receiv'd the tonish pair; while they the rural 'squires surprise } with splendid hospitalities; } and even here the money flies. } the knight when sporting in the east, was wont to hunt the brindled beast, or the long, pointed jav'lin plant from castled back of elephant, in the fierce tiger's spotted side, and gloried when the savage died: he therefore would not deign to share the conquest o'er a tim'rous hare; nor push on in a break-neck pace through all his wiles the fox to chace. but when the sportsmen left their game, and weary to his mansion came, which they were always glad to do, whene'er that mansion was in view, quæ genus heard the orders gay to be fulfill'd without delay, as the loud and welcome brawl re-echoed through the lofty hall,- "prepare, that my good friends may dine, the turkey and the smoking chine, the pasty and whate'er is best to furnish out an instant feast! be sure 'tis your attentive task, } to give them all that they may ask, } the bowl, the tankard and the flask;" } but then the knight in whispers hinted, "when you perceive my time is stinted, and both my deafen'd ears no more can bear the bacchanalian roar; when it appears the stupid asses scarce know the bottles from the glasses, nor can perceive, 'mid boosing laughter, that i am only sipping water; when i shall unperceiv'd retire, } remember it is my desire, } _they do not set the house on fire_." } --thus, when o'erwhelm'd with sporting guest, sir charles his constant wish express'd, and, after many a vain essay, contriv'd at last to steal away, with something like an aching head, to seek the refuge of his bed. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus attends on a sporting finale.] in drunken freaks quæ genus knew sense was oft gone and feeling too; that legs might tables overturn, and fallen lights would flare and burn; nay, flaming mischief might attend on lighted snuff and candle's end. thus to be safe, without delay the threat'ning lights he bore away, and, to avoid a falling spark, left parties snoring in the dark. thus stretching as their limbs were able, on chair, on floor or on table, quæ genus did not own a fear that there was any danger near, so left them till the day should break and fev'rish nature bid them wake; when, yawning round the sporting closet, some groom brought in their morning posset; and, hobbling off as they were able to mount their horses at the stable, they left the knight their humble thanks, hop'd madam would excuse their pranks, and sought their homes, perhaps, to hear a wife talk loud in either ear. such were the jovial sportsmen's meetings and these their hospitable greetings; but rural dames who were received with kindness while old _woodlands_ liv'd, as they found such an alter'd state ne'er enter'd twice the mansion gate: the 'squires' wives would ne'er resort to one so chang'd to pay their court; and, though she was with title crown'd, the proud acquaintance they disown'd. brimful of town conceits and folly, my lady now grew melancholy; and when the sporting season came her daily looks were not the same: that time of noisy, jovial joy, did ev'ry lively sense annoy, nor would she any reas'ning hear.- "to town we'll haste away, my dear! let us be gone without delay: to london let us haste away! these rooms where staring figures sprawl in ancient hangings on the wall, nay, where at noon, the shaded light gives dimness of approaching night, which nought can chearful make and gay, or give the semblance bright of day, but that well-dress'd, high-minded glee that here, alas, we never see, which could alone from this dull room, snatch the grim likeness of a tomb! let us be gone without delay, to london let us haste away!" --she gave a piteous look and sigh'd, when, with soft grace, sir charles replied. "as such is your desire, my love, to town we quickly will remove; if it will soothe my charmer's sorrow, we will set out for town to-morrow. but have you thought, my dearest dear, that not a creature will be there? will you not find we shall be hurl'd into a lifeless, empty world; where, till the winter near approaches you will see nought but hackney coaches? i'm sure you'll think yourself quite undone, if you're a month alone in london. to your gay spirit oh how dull on a soft window-seat to loll, and count with your half-sleeping eye how many _nobodies_ go by! while mothers with their babies tell, what sick'ning stuff they have to sell, when from their ceaseless screaming noises, you ask for what heaven gave them voices: till like the fiddler in a rage, which you have seen in hogarth's page, you stop your ears, with anger burn, and cry 'to _woodlands_, let's return.' i'd rather sit and yawn, i own, here in the country than in town, where to dull club-rooms i must go, } e'en in the streets no creature know, } and ride alone in rotten-row. } but be it as you wish."--"then i," the dame delay'd not to reply, "desire such orders you will give that we, with prompt dispatch, may leave this stupid spot and hurry strait with post horse gallop through the gate, and when we've got a dozen mile, i then will thank you, love, and smile. yes, i will bid adieu to care, } though not a soul in portman-square, } when once i see that i am there. } believe me i would rather hear as sounds more pleasing to my ear, fishwomen's cries along the street, than noisy sportsmen when they meet, whose noisy, vulgar, drunken brawl so often echoed in our hall. the town, perhaps, is not so full, but london never can be dull: thin as it may be, or e'en thinner, we shall find folk to eat our dinner, and though no crowd will throng at present, our little parties will be pleasant. the drama too presents its play to make the evening pass away; blue hills delight and lawns so green when they are painted on the scene; o how i like the woods and rocks when i can view them from a box!- i'm charm'd with such a rural sight when it is seen by candle-light. we shall to pass our time contrive, and keep our pretty selves alive, till the world rolls to town amain:- then we shall be ourselves again." --they were themselves, and suffer'd pride still to remain their fatal guide, and to bring on that period near, when folly claim'd its full arrear. it is not needful for our rhyme to tell how long or short the time which the vain spendthrift genius thought was fit to bring their schemes to nought. all we shall say is, with the song, "the days of pleasure ne'er are long." and, if to proverbs we resort, "the days of sorrow ne'er are short." and here it is but truth to tell, that our quæ genus acted well. for never, as his duty call'd, when home affairs were so enthrall'd, that ere the winter months would end there would be no more coin to spend, nor credit found to give the swing to gay manoeuvres through the spring, he did not from his master's ears conceal the state of his affairs; and though, too oft receiv'd with scorn, gave hints, but still they fail'd to warn. --at length, howe'er, the period came from fashion's list to blot their name; when it was vain for pride to look in the card-rack or porter's book, while the old guard might sit and snore, but rarely summon'd to the door; that door, of late, so seldom quiet from lounging call or pleasure's riot, unless it, with less noisy stir, announc'd some threat'ning visiter. --encreasing wants began to press, and all things threaten'd that distress which vanity knows not to bear, } that pride contemplates with despair, } yet spurns regenerating care; } and a pale demon seems to see in form of sage oeconomy. the scene thus drawing to a close, } friends, aye, and faithful ones arose, } with their best aid to interpose, } and valcour found, when least expected, that falling he was not neglected. for he was lov'd by all who knew the virtues whence his follies grew; and some of these so active were as to preserve him from the snare of us'rer's gripe and lawyer's strife, that seem'd to threat his future life. they did with counsel sage persuade and brought the ready, golden aid, which check'd the powers that did enslave him, before it was too late to save him. the well-weigh'd scheme which prudence chose was rather an unsav'ry dose: madam, at first, declar'd it treason; but humbled pride was taught to reason. enough was spar'd to share the dance and gay festivities of france; with promise, when five years were o'er, they should regain the british shore; and, on repassing _woodlands_ gate, would find a noble, freed estate; and, from their follies past remov'd, reside respected and belov'd. now, all this serious bustle over, they sought, and soon set sail from, dover, and, in the common period, found their footsteps meas'ring gallic ground. quæ genus saw them to the sea, then gave a look of sympathy, and, with respectful rev'rence said, "when you again old england tread, to re-enjoy my happy station i will quit any situation, and i dare boast you will receive me, as true and faithful as you leave me!" --to france he was not quite inclin'd, and molly chose to stay behind; so both brush'd up their sep'rate graces, to go in search of _other places_.- for, 'twas not yet our hero's plan to set up for a gentleman. canto vii in the world's ever varying range there scarce can be a greater change than from the hourly means of carving without reserve, to hints of starving; from the men-cooks' superior waste to fireless kitchen's cold repast; from ham and fowl and beef and veal, to a lean shoulder's third day meal, from well-skimm'd broths, to greasy pot,- but this was now our hero's lot: and here, perhaps, it may be fair to ask what chance could bring him there; for expectation sure might think that he would rather soar than sink, at least, he would his rank maintain among high-life's domestic train, and still display the priggish air, in some fine street or splendid square, instead of opening the door in _humbug-buildings_, number four; well known, as we shall shortly see, for weighty scenes of usury. --how he this curious post obtain'd, without reserve will be explain'd. my lady valcour, as 'tis known to hap sometimes to dames of ton, when sudden wants were set on edge might look a precious stone to pledge, to raise a hasty sum or so she did not wish sir charles to know; for little systems of disguise } are seldom seen to cause surprise } in the best order'd families. } molly she fail'd not to employ in care of any glittering toy, which might so very useful be in moments of necessity: but this strange, awkward kind of trade was far from pleasant to the maid, as she, to 'scape from prying eyes was told to change her air and size, and, to perform her work complete, to be a perfect counterfeit: in short, as was not uncommon, to make herself another woman. she therefore, thought it best to ask quæ genus to perform the task; and old john squeeze was recommended, who kindly to such wants attended: though some who lov'd a joke to crack, would laugh, and call him _squeezing jack_. in a snug corner of the town, to nameless spendthrifts too well known, the miser liv'd, if life it be whose meat and drink was usury; for the old hunx was ne'er content, unless he gain'd his _cent. per cent._; and as all traffic with this elf was secret interchange of pelf, he fear'd not the rapacious paw of daily violated law.- diamonds that did 'mong ringlets blaze, and caught the night's admiring gaze; the necklace that from snowy neck did in its cluster'd fashions break on swelling bosom, plac'd to share the beauty nature planted there; the rows of pearl that gave a charm to the round grace of taper arm: the bright drops which each sister ear does with an equal splendour bear; and dazzling circles that are seen of rubies red, of em'ralds green, and sapphires blue, whose blended rays the rainbow to the hand conveys, all these, at times, are forc'd to rest within the miser's gloomy chest: in iron darkness there to wait a longer or a shorter date, till gold's redeeming power shall say, come and re-brighten on the day. on errands of this grave intent, quæ genus now and then was sent, and how he did his plans arrange, or in what shape place the exchange; how he contriv'd these sly affairs, paid soon, or lengthen'd the arrears, of this we know not more nor less, } for we ne'er heard his tongue confess, } and 'twould be wasting time to guess. } but, somehow, he contriv'd to please, by grace or guile, old master squeeze, and by some strange, peculiar art, he gain'd upon the us'rer's heart, if an heart such a being owns, who chuckles when misfortune moans, at least, when that is understood to be a vessel fraught with good. but to proceed, the mind's keen eye of _squeezing jack_, thought he could spy in our quæ genus that quick sense, which might reward his confidence; that wary, penetrating thought, which could not be too dearly bought, and in his present, sickly trim, would be of golden use to him: for he grew old and wanted aid, in his nice calculating trade. in short, in every point of view, } as one who certain fancies knew, } the old man felt that he would do, } and that he could his interest make a station at the desk to take. not the first time on business bent, } though 'twas the last by molly sent, } our hero to the office went, } with his redeeming coin to pay and fav'rite gems to bear away, he was desir'd to give an ear to the proposal he should hear, when _squeezing john_ in cautious strain did thus his secret wish explain. "--from what i know and all i see, you soon will be at liberty, the gentry to whom you belong will not require your service long; and 'twould be well were you to take the offer which i now shall make: that is, as you already see, to come, my friend, and live with me. i hope no thought your mind engages, about such petty things as wages, i would not wish you to receive what common spendthrift masters give; i exercise a better way all such as serve me well to pay: your bed and board will lib'ral be, } for you will live as well as me, } such is my home oeconomy. } as for the service you will find its profits fully to your mind; if you my interests understand, your own will follow hand in hand; nay, i my promise shall maintain, that you a pretty fortune gain. all i ask is, that you will be the pattern of fidelity, which my observing eye has seen to others you have lately been; i have, my friend, but one word more, and then my speechifying's o'er: 'twill answer ev'ry purpose better and i shall hold myself your debtor, for reasons you shall plainly see, if you will wear your livery, for that can never be disgrace which soon will gain superior place." quæ genus thought he could but try, if but from curiosity, though some have said that then he view'd the future freaks that he pursued. thus at the desk he soon was seated to learn how folly could be cheated, and to consent to play the rogue with any spendthrift vice in vogue, that did in pleasure's round perplex in any form, in either sex. the gains were great, nay almost certain, while pride so slyly drew the curtain, indeed, it was so nicely clos'd, that the rich schemes were ne'er expos'd. --at first, a kind of gen'rous feeling, a sense of honourable dealing, dispos'd him, with some doubts, to look into the broker's daily book, while he oft dipp'd his pen and thought, ere he the huge per-centage wrote: nay, he could pity the distress which did upon their bosoms press, when, thus to pay for ill-bought pleasure, they yielded up their gayest treasure. --but then he mutter'd, "where's the shame? others, like us, would do the same: if we were now to shut up shop, others into the place would pop; extravagance would have its run and fools speed on to be undone. and their sad wants would be supplied, } if _john_ had laid his schemes aside, } or had turn'd methodist and died." } thus interest to our hero clung to stifle sense of right and wrong; and so at once he bade adieu to conscience for a year or two: but, when attain'd the wish'd for store, it should resume its former power. thus, at the opening of his trade, he a most curious bargain made with the divinity within, to help him on through thick and thin. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus in the service of a miser but now, a fair one will appear, about her four-and-twentieth year; though, whatsoe'er may be her age, she must be brought upon the stage, blooming and gay and form'd to please, by the old man was call'd his niece, and, though there were some doubts we know, it turn'd out she was truly so. all saw that he was fond of miss, would often give and take a kiss, and even with his money part, to purchase smiles and make her smart. abroad she was not us'd to roam but novels read and stay'd at home. the pantry's boon, so lean and spare, was forc'd on her unwilling care; for when old avarice complain'd of the great cost his life sustain'd, he ne'er forgot, 'mong human ills, the baker's and the butcher's bills: but 'twas her interest to be the slave of his oeconomy. --an errand-man and one poor maid, were all who gave the household aid: they were to am'rous purpose bent so fed on love and were content; and as quæ genus touch'd the _money_, which was his fount of _milk_ and _honey_; his easy stomach never car'd how lean the joint on which he far'd. --it was his interest to agree, in all things with miss emily, as she could humour uncle squeeze, and now and then possess the keys: nor could she shape her main design unless quæ genus would combine the hobbling _old one_ to deceive, and let in _friends_ without his leave. she gave him physic, tuck'd his bed, the pillow smooth'd to rest his head; then all around the curtains drew, and having spoke the night's adieu, would gaily hasten down below to smile upon the favour'd beau whom her commanding billet-doux had summon'd to an interview. from uncle john's great hoard of wealth, and the old man's declining health, 'twas thought she soon would be a prize which smart young men might idolize; that a great fortune miss would be from heirdom or by legacy: while lovers, therefore, not a few, had pass'd before her in review, her kind warm heart might not disown that she had fix'd her thoughts on one; and he it was who had the power to share with her an evening hour. but to the point, which even love could not from her keen thoughts remove: the lady did not long delay thus the prime secret to convey, "i have a precious plan, quæ genus, and if 'tis manag'd well between us, we may, as i know how, contrive, to make our mutual int'rests thrive. i have already something done, as you will hear, for _number one_, and there's another scheme will do, as you will know, for _number two_. my uncle's wealth is that of _croesus_, but how he'll leave it, heaven bless us, i know not, nay, the trembling elf, may not as yet be sure himself; though he, perhaps, may leave the whole to charity, to save his soul.- some folk have thought to make a will, is signal given for death to kill, but should he an intestate, die, the long expecting family, will feed the greedy, gaping maw, of griping, grinding, hungry law. for though i am the next of kin, such various claimants will rush in, such troops of distant, country cousins, will haste by scores, at least by dozens; so many lawyers may appear, to promise each an ample share, that in what way these things may end, if fortune be my foe or friend, i wish, by all means, to ensure some independent sinecure, and as you must the labour bear, you will a just advantage share. but not an atom of his wealth must we attempt to take by stealth, no, though we could this night convey, as a sure, undiscover'd prey, his iron chest with all the gold and brilliant treasure it may hold. i only ask my views to aid but a small portion of his trade, and while above his riches flow, we may make mod'rate gains below, and what of that by us is done, must be from funds which are our own." --the parties were at once agreed, and the scheme fail'd not to succeed: nay, had stern fate the stroke delay'd, a decent fortune they had made; but as it was, their transient gain gave them no reason to complain. --now, ere twelve months or more were past, john squeeze, alas! had breath'd his last; and though they search'd the mansion round, a will was no where to be found; and relatives in numbers came, their rights to prove, their shares to claim; while the shrewd miss amelia squeeze lock'd ev'ry box and kept the keys. --with angry threats the house resounded, it was confusion worse confounded; while she secure in prudent savings, calmly beheld their idle ravings, as different ways they did pursue, which diff'rent lawyers bade them do. --and here we cannot overlook the wary way the lady took. her favourite swain, it must be known, a pleader was of some renown; to whom this offer she propos'd, with which the learned lawyer clos'd. "if of the wealth of old john squeeze, of whom you know i am the niece, you prove me to be lawful heir, my charms and fortune you shall share." --thus she was left amid the paws of lawyers and the tardy laws, with chance that when ten years were past, a husband she might get at last. --not as such union often ends, she and quæ genus parted friends: but ere old squeeze'em was dispos'd, ere the cold marble o'er him clos'd, our hero had a gracious tender from _jacob levi, money-lender_. he, having had some kind of feeling with john in his usurious dealing, observ'd quæ genus, who had been just such an useful go-between, as would find favour in the sight of the keen, cautious israelite, who, therefore, with inviting grace, offered him his vacant place. the proverb says it is a curse to go at once from bad to worse, and though, at first, he did not feel it, time was determin'd to reveal it. --of late, or more or less, 'tis true, distress was in his frequent view, but then in its prevailing feature, it was but of a transient nature. a proud man for a whole week's date might cease, perhaps, to eat off plate, still, dresden service could supply a varying scene of luxury: or vanity might not resort to aid the splendour of a court, from absent state of decoration, required by certain rank and station: but, for a time, well-fram'd excuses custom or fashion ne'er refuses; when soon again the plate is seen, the silver-smith has made it clean, and in a week, or month, or so, it will resume its usual show. again the glitt'ring gems display at the gay fête the dazzling ray, on having done the appointed duty to ease the wants of pride and beauty. but now another scene succeeds, } the pledge is turn'd from glitt'ring beads } to mortgages and title-deeds; } the short-liv'd search of ready-rhino by imps of loo or of cassino; or to stop short a lawyer's threats, and dunning for a tradesman's debts; these yield to frightful views of ruin, which threaten absolute undoing; that grasp at family estates of honour'd name and ancient dates, and hasten on the heirs in fee to gallop fast to beggary. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus & the money-lenders.] quæ genus, was brimful of zeal to seize each turn of fortune's wheel, and eager to fulfil his plan of rising to a gentleman: but though gold roll'd beneath his eye, though fees were paid and bribes were high, his heart, which had not lost its feeling, shrunk from the base, remorseless dealing, that gloating avarice employ'd o'er the rich ruins it enjoy'd. while, therefore, some kind, gen'rous sense his heart felt of benevolence, and ere of honour quite bereft, he the rapacious levi left, in hope he might obtain a place he should not think as a disgrace; nor of success had he to fear from valcour's written character; where all his virtues were pourtray'd, in such a view that he was made in every domestic sense a paragon of excellence. but sad to tell, it was not long before temptations, more than strong, were urg'd by a kind, zealous friend, who us'd on bus'ness to attend old levi's levees: he display'd in artful whisper, the sure trade, which, manag'd as he could define, would shortly prove a golden mine. "think not," he said, "that i am canting; money, my friend, is all that's wanting. a certain sum could i command, i soon would purchase house and land. ere a short time had onward run, i would strut forth a buck of ton; the world, with its dull pride, defy, and jostle fools of quality." quæ genus felt his brooding plan to be a finish'd gentleman, at that same word his spirit started, and instantly he grew great hearted. "your scheme," he said, "at once explain: if gainful, you shall share the gain." "but hear me out," it was replied, "and then you will be satisfied. know, you must an assistant be at a club's gaming revelry. o check, i pray, your staring eyes, from looking on me with surprise; let not the scheme i offer freeze you, hear, and then do as it may please you! think not i would your hand entice to deal the card or shake the dice; you must employ a knowing friend, and such a one i can commend; he's wary, and suspicion guards, by shrewdly managing his cards; whate'er he does is done with ease, and heaps his gains by slow degrees, till he has such a sum attain'd by which his object may be gain'd, then one successful effort make, and seize a fortune in the stake. he watches those who love to drink, and sticks to such as cannot think: he turns his skilful inclination to young men who are prone to passion; he has cool words for those who're heated, whose pride will not believe they're cheated; in short, he can a card entice, and fix good-fortune on the dice. with him you may your money trust; he will be generous as he's just: proceed at once on manly ground and trust him with five hundred pound; with that, my friend, let him alone, he'll use it as it were his own." quæ genus enter'd on his place and acted with becoming grace; but with his keen, suspicious eye he saw what look'd like treachery, which wak'd the fancy to be thrifty, so, of his pounds he gave but fifty. --on his official duties bound, he pac'd the hubbub-table round, and with attentive leering kenn'd his trusty, confidential friend, whose frequent nods and silent grinning full plainly told, he had been winning; but, when quæ genus ask'd th' amount, his friend thus settled the account. "it does my very heart-strings grieve that you have nothing to receive: two hours ago my luck was crost, and then your fifty pounds were lost; for when with your advance i play'd fortune became an arrant jade: though since 'tis true that i have won, but then the risk was all my own; and, if you had but ventur'd more, your purse might now be running o'er. with a round sum to-morrow night, fortune may set all matters right: as 'tis in war, so 'tis with gold, she fails not to protect the bold." our hero was not such a _flat_ as to sit down content with that: he first determin'd to resist or with a cudgel or a fist: but on reflection, felt an awe of the grim, prosecuting law: besides, had he enrag'd the room, it might have prov'd his final doom: still he for vengeance inly cried and he was shortly satisfied. --the _bow-street_ folk he happ'd to know were walking that way to and fro, and when more closely on the watch, he mov'd the door's unwilling latch, the myrmidons rush'd rudely in, and all above was noise and din. candles and lamps were all put out, when it became a mingled rout, while for the money on the table each grasp'd as much as he was able; and our quæ genus had engross'd more than by _humbug_ he had lost; then nimbly made a safe retreat to lodgings in no distant street. here, for some time he pac'd the room, to dissipate th' oppressive gloom that did upon his spirits light from the proceedings of the night. "indeed," he said, "what then was done i do not wish to look upon, nay i would from my mem'ry cast my curious ways for some time past, but certain, busy reasons tell such effort is impossible. all therefore, that i now can do is the forthcoming time to woo with those endearments which may prove quæ genus worthy of its love: with that just sense of what is right, that makes the moral lamp burn bright." [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus officiating at a gaming house.] such pensive musings on him wrought till he his welcome pillow sought, when, as absorb'd in sleep he lay, fancy did on his spirits play, and in a strange and fearful dream a form did on his vision beam, with ghastly look as it were come from the pale confines of the tomb. he seem'd with one uplifted hand instant attention to command, the other, as he solemn stood, folded around the flowing shroud; and thus quæ genus seem'd to hear the hollow voice that pierc'd his ear. "i am thy foster-parent's shade, } who, in the earth, has long been laid, } and let his counsels be obey'd. } 'tis syntax who before thee stands, and wait with awe his grave commands. fool as thou art, in thy misdoing art thou not hast'ning to thy ruin? am i call'd hither to accuse thy erring ways, and idle views? do i the wretched agent see of gambling fraud and usury? and is it thus you form the plan to vault into a gentleman? syntax thy memory must own as the sole parent thou hast known, whose mercy did the foundling save from menace of an infant's grave. better, perhaps, his fond regard had not thy sad condition spar'd, if what of future life may last, wakes no contrition for the past. hear me, and tremble as i speak, though you may human laws escape; the life you lead is not forgiven by the offended laws of heaven. if such your doings, i can ne'er petition for your pardon there. the present means which you possess, if rightly us'd, will give success; nay, if you cease to roam abroad, and turn from folly's wand'ring road; if you keep all things right at home, much unexpected good may come. quæ genus, to my words attend, the errors of your life amend; resist the world's seducing power, or fear me at the midnight hour." --thus as he thought the vision spake, the curtains round him seem'd to shake; and frowning, as in angry mood, at the bed's foot the figure stood, when, in a misty gleam of light, it seem'd to vanish from his sight. he woke in such an agitation his night-cap stream'd with perspiration; he started with a fearful stare, not knowing if to pray or swear. he did from further sleep refrain as he perhaps should dream again, and sommerden's departed rector might read another curtain-lecture. but when as through the shutter's crack he saw the beams of phoebus break, up he arose, the bell he rung, and, "breakfast," issued from his tongue: the loud command was soon obey'd, and morning meal in order laid. on sofa stretch'd, he munch'd the toast, and sipp'd the bohea, doubly dos'd with cordial drops, we won't say gin, which he pour'd plentifully in, and did his trem'rous nerves redeem } by power of the reviving stream, } from the dire horrors of the dream. } --his spirits thus with strength recruited, he turn'd his mind to what was suited to the condition chance had bound him, and perils which might still surround him: of his late playmates what became when power broke up the midnight game; and if pursued by any danger, to which as yet he was a stranger. but soon he found, enquiry made, the bow-street spirits all were laid; nor was it to the party known, by whom the mischief had been done.- thus, from all legal threat secure, he felt determin'd to abjure the course of life he had pursued, nor suffer knav'ry to delude his conduct into any plan that might disgrace a gentleman; the character which his fond thought had to a flatt'ring crisis brought, when he might try, and not in vain, the wish'd for honour to maintain. besides, in favour of his scheme, he felt the warnings of the dream, as he their meaning understood foreboded much of future good. at length his boasting fancies tired of all to which his pride aspired; and, having nothing else to do, he sauntered forth to take a view of what a saunter might present for serious thought or merriment; when, as he careless stroll'd along, half-humming some new-fangled song, he heard a voice that did proclaim his own but too familiar name. 'twas mr. carmine, who was known an artist of the first renown for portraiture of living faces, whose pencil gave and heighten'd graces, who, 'mid the hurry of the street, did sauntering quæ genus greet: when, having sought a place of quiet, free from the passing, bustling riot, in civil tones the man of art began his queries to impart. "your family, i hope, are well, and will you lady valcour tell, if it so please her you may come and fetch her fine resemblance home: nay she may have forgot, i fear, that the last sitting's in arrear: give but the hint as i demand and you shall feel my grateful hand." --quæ genus hasten'd to reply with the gay valcours' history, and fear'd that, for a year or two, the picture must _in statu quo_ within his gallery remain, at least, till they came home again. "well then," said carmine, "tell me friend, what fortunes on your steps attend." "sir," he replied, "'tis fortune's pleasure i should enjoy a state of leisure. sir charles, so generous and kind, wish'd not that i should stay behind, nay, would have paid me high to go, as i've a paper that will shew: but certain schemes play'd on my brain which fix'd my purpose to remain, and yet, with all my honest care, i have not brought one scheme to bear." "my friend," the artist said, "if you have not a better scheme in view, my place, unless i greatly err, would suit your turn and character 'tis but to know and to make known the beauties by my pencil shewn, and lard, as you the occasion see, with strokes of modest flattery. take care you manage well your tongue to please the old as well as young, and study the expressive grace that's seen to beam on any face; when, in fair words and cautious mood you may mark the similitude between the charms that smiling live, and such as art like mine can give. nor to the sex your hints confine, the ermin'd sage and grave divine, the chubby face of childhood too attention must be made to woo, while i shall to your mind impart the nomenclature of my art;- and if, as i presume you will, display the show with ready skill, from misses, beaux, old dames and sages, you'll gain, good fellow, three-fold wages. --now turn the offer in your mind, and, if your prudence is inclin'd to take it, you will let me know to-morrow how your wishes flow." [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus with a portrait painter.] what though it was his warm desire from days of service to retire; though he now hop'd the time drew nigh to change his humble destiny, he ask'd permission of his pride that one more service might be tried, as in the class he hop'd to move it might a source of knowledge prove. --where could he such examples see as in an artist's gallery? for while he look'd at forms and faces he might learn all the tonish graces, whatever manners could bestow, } what attitudes were best to show; } in short, all that he sought to know. } for the fine folk who visit there come deck'd with all becoming care, that the chaste pencil may not err from truth of form and character, which not alone, while yet they live, the canvas may be proud to give, but offer to the admiring eye of an unborn posterity! "o," he exclaim'd, "this is the plan, } i all its various merits scan, } 'tis half-way to a _gentleman_!" } --nay, to be brief, the following day beheld him all in due array, and soon alert, submissive, smart, } well vers'd in all the slang of art; } he to perfection play'd his part. } in mildest tone would just express the charms a canvas may possess, where loves and graces seem to smile and do th' enchanted eye beguile. though still he ne'er forgot his duty to one who might have been a beauty, there he did not throw out his hints of charming smiles and rosy tints, but to her portrait would refer for force and grace of character. still his own thoughts ne'er went astray, } he rather told what others say, } what my lord b. prais'd yesterday. } thus he contriv'd, it seems, to please carmine's fine folk, of all degrees, and what he gain'd, he now might say, he got it in an honest way. from all he did the artist thought he had a real treasure got; nor had quæ genus any cause to grumble at domestic laws; for all who serv'd them were content with the well-rang'd establishment. above, was all that taste could show, and ease and comfort reign'd below; for carmine sought not cost to spare, and splendid plenty revell'd there. --o discretion, what thy powers, to watch o'er life's fantastic hours, to check warm nature's glowing heat when passions in the bosom beat, and whim and fancy's busy train play their vagaries through the brain! but that comptroller of the will, that sober judge 'tween good and ill, or from his folly or his pride quæ genus seem'd to throw aside. this was the spot where he might stay, } where duty was improving play, } till hope should paint the wish'd-for way. } but whimsies did his wits employ the play-game of an idle boy, for which if, at his earliest school, thus he had dared to play the fool, he would have felt the smarting fate that does on thoughtless culprit wait. --the easy, morning duties done, the after-day was all his own, when, as it surely may be thought he might have some improvement sought: but no, his genius seem'd to chuse his luckless leisure to amuse, in changing, when brimfull of glee, the system of the gallery; would make the pictures change their places, and with his chalk deform their faces, (for, from a boy, whate'er he saw, with a rude outline, he could draw,) turn down the portraits in their frames, and look and laugh and call them names. though if no other harm were done, unknown he might have had his fun: but hence the mischief did ensue, the names he call'd were written too: in short, he turn'd the painter's school completely into ridicule, and, by a title or a scroll, he strove to stigmatize the whole. --he would a _lawn-rob'd prelate_ place as if he ogled _cælia's_ face, exclaiming "there's no greater bliss, no, not in heaven, than _cælia's kiss_;" while _cælia_ might be made to say "_hands off, my pious lord, i pray! remember what you ought to feel- the good book says you must not steal; and steal you will, if you receive it, for hang me, fusty, if i give it_." --he then, perhaps, would run his rig, with _cap and bells_ on _judge's wig_; when thus his fancy might indite, and in a well turn'd label write,- "_now should my lord be in a fury, and shake that wig_, he'd fright the jury_." --the portrait of an aged dame might have this added to her name,- "_your crutch-stick tells you scarce can walk, but still you bore all ears with talk; a most incorrigible hag, who nothing but your tongue can wag_." --a married pair together plac'd, and with their household emblems grac'd, though looking in each other's faces, he would remove to sep'rate places, and then contrive to make them say, "_how shall we, sir, this act repay? our home cabals we now shall smother, at this nice distance from each other; thus far removed we shall agree,- 'tis just as we both wish to be._" --a lord mayor's brow he would adorn with honours of a double horn; then from a long scroll make him cry, "_make room for cuckolds, here comes i_." --a lawyer, clad in wig and band, with briefs and papers in his hand, quæ genus would contrive to trace a janus with a _double face_, and each face with a ready tongue to plead the cause or right or wrong, exclaiming in both scrolls--"_'tis we, and waiting for a double fee_." such was his wit, which sometimes told its thoughts in flashes far too bold: which the muse knows would not be meet for her chaste spirit to repeat. --thus when the monkey's hand had done with this display of idle fun, and in his vacant hour of sense had triumph'd in impertinence; he would repair his saucy tricks, the pictures in their places fix, wipe out the mischief of the chalk and bid the portraits cease to talk; then with a military air, aloud command them--"as you were."- --now it, at least, was once a week, he did this gay amusement seek, when carmine's absence gave the power thus to pass off his leisure hour, as different faces might present fresh subjects for his merriment. but those foul imps who oft molest, with awkward thoughts, the human breast, (as the expression's not so civil, we will not hint it is the devil,) will, as their trade is to deceive, fast in the lurch their vot'ries leave; and soon quæ genus was betray'd into the trap his folly laid. one vernal eve, he had o'erflow'd with chalk and chatter ill-bestow'd, when call'd off for we know not what, the unfinish'd mischief was forgot; and in the morning, ere the clout had duly wip'd his folly out, a party, who from town were going, came, just to pay what might be owing: at the same time to represent where all their portraits might be sent. --one _elder lady_ rubb'd her eyes, with equal anger and surprize, while she could scarce believe she read, the _witch_ of _endor_ o'er her head. --another, not of younger age, could not restrain her glowing rage, when _mother red cap_ was the name which chalk had given to the dame; and then she scream'd aloud,--"_forsooth, a pipe is put into my mouth, whose nauseous fumes around me fly to stamp me with vulgarity_!" --with them there was a sweet young lady, in beauty's bloom and vernal gay day; her portrait in all stature stood, with all the grace of attitude, and charms to turn, though not of stone, a _carmine_ to _pygmalion_. but she, in all her beauty's pride, a _wheel-barrow_ was made to guide, while ruby lips were seen to cry, "_sheep's hearts for those who want to buy_!" the marble urn which stood behind her, was turn'd into a rude _knife-grinder_, and at no very far approach was seen a passing _hackney coach_, while all the lawns and groves so sweet were scrawl'd into a _london street_. --anger in diff'rent tones were heard, and when carmine in haste appear'd, aghast he stood, then vengeance vow'd, declar'd his innocence--and bow'd; but in a few short minutes prov'd the wicked lines might be remov'd. if water is not just at hand, _saliva's_ always at command, which gives the tints a brighter glow, and leaves a kind of varnish too. this, with his handkerchief applied, soon wip'd the saucy chalk aside. the dame exclaim'd,--"_pray look, d'ye see, still more affronts, my lady b----: this is the height of all disgrace, the painter's spitting in my face_." carmine, without a word, went on, and when his cleansing skill was shown, when witticisms disappear'd, and each offending line was clear'd, the sudden change appear'd to please, and angry words began to cease. but still he thought he ought to show the threat'ning terms he could bestow. the maids, each answ'ring to her name, aloud their innocence proclaim: the housekeeper and sturdy cook propose to swear on holy book, they could not do it:--heaven forbid it! and then they told,--quæ genus _did it_: on which, the solemn dames insist such impudence should be dismiss'd. but though they saw the alter'd show } restor'd to all its pristine glow, } they let th' astonish'd artist know } th' insulted portraits should not stay where they then were another day. thus porters, order'd to the door, } away each fine resemblance bore, } that they might be defac'd no more.-} --the dames departed in a huff, with _fanning_ cool'd,--consol'd with _snuff_: while miss, beneath her bonnet's poke, smil'd as if _she_ enjoy'd the joke. our hero now was seen to wait the threat'nings of impending fate: that fate, but in the mildest tone, carmine delay'd not to make known. "as you vie with me in my art, 'tis clear, my friend, that we must part: your genius is so full of sport that you must go,--i'm sorry for't! such tricks will bring, as you must see, disgrace upon the gallery; indeed, by your confounded fun, mischief may be already done! you talk'd of schemes when you came here, but, faith, this scheme may cost me dear. as tricks like these you chuse to play, 'twere well that you should march away; so go, where, spite of common sense, your jokes may pass without offence. few words are best,--my mind to tell: pack up your chalk,--and so farewell!" --quæ genus the command obey'd, as pleas'd to go as if he stay'd. here then his _final service_ ends:- but man and master parted friends. canto viii life, as a witty bard has shewn, who dealt in just comparison,[1] is but a busy pantomime, whose actions vary with the time; where they who turn from side to side, according to the wind and tide, are more ingenious in their art than such as act but one grave part; who, as their years pass onward, seem to glide along one gentle stream. but here we stop not to contend whether, to answer life's great end, 'tis best from place to place to range, or fix to one, and never change. suffice it, that, from choice or chance, quæ genus hurried through some dance of early life, and, as we see, not knowing what the next would be: but now, disdaining future tricks, he felt a firm resolve to fix upon a steady, better plan, of living like a _gentleman_. whether he knew to calculate the means required for such a state, the curious eye will shortly see, in his approaching history. [1] butler, the author of hudibras. it has been well observ'd by some, "all countries are a wise man's home." as it is said of diff'rent nations, the same is true of various stations which man is destin'd to fulfil, or with, or e'en against his will; if reason happens to provide a steersman who is fit to guide the vessel o'er life's flowing main, and sure at last the port to gain. how much our hero had amass'd, by ways and means now gone and pass'd, we know not, as we never heard the hoarded sums he had prepar'd; but as he had a sense of craving, and with it, too, a knack of saving, he must have got a heap of cash, which, for a time, would make a dash. the _valcour_ wardrobe almost new, } the gifts of service, laid _perdu_, } would serve him for a year or two; } and by some _snip's_ contriving art, would fit him well and make him smart: but stumbling-blocks were found to lay before him, and impede his way. manners and matter he possest, his early life had given the best; and while he as a servant mov'd, his knowledge of the world improv'd: but still his face and form were known in certain quarters of the town, and the first object to his fame was to discard his present name; for he ne'er did a father know, the source from whence a name should flow; and by quæ genus nought was meant- it was a boon by accident, which he might, if he pleas'd, disuse, and any other title chuse. through the _directory_ he waded, till his poor eyes were sadly jaded; then in the finer streets he stroll'd where names on _door plates_ are enroll'd: but then he fear'd a name to own, which would, perhaps, be too well known, and cause enquiries, that might be the source of some perplexity. reason, at length, rous'd the intention of yielding to his own invention, to eke out from the alphabet, a name he never heard of yet; and which his fancy might suggest as one to suit his project best. free-born he thought would do as well as any other he could tell, when, his right christian name of john form'd the becoming union; then nothing more he could desire than trim these names with an esquire; and to let the report be spread, that some rich relative was dead, and 'twas his fortune and his fate to get the name and an estate. should it be ask'd where _that_ might lay, he had prepar'd himself to say, (as if half earnest--half in joke, the smiling answer might be spoke,) "'tis here, 'tis there, 'tis everywhere, or in some country in the air; but should you come to _number three_ in such a street, you there will see how that estate appears to thrive: on _thursday_ next i dine at _five_." thus he would find none to suspect him, or, dinners given, to neglect him. he now to coffee houses went, with looks assuming calm content, and such as those are seen to wear, who easy independence share. at reading-rooms he frequent sat, and read or join'd in social chat; acquaintance made, no arduous task, of those he did to dinner ask. in gay apartments then he shone in a good quarter of the town, but distant, as we may conceive, from where his masters us'd to live. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus gives a grand party.] _miss emily_, the blooming niece } of the old broker, master _squeeze_, } who made some figure in the piece, } and, at no very distant page, was seen to figure on the stage; the lady all her points had carried, was rich, and had the _pleader_ married; had chang'd her uncle's name of _squeeze'em_ to her shrewd husband's, lawyer _seize'em_: who, by his cunning and his skill, had brought all contests to her will, when he had got his promis'd fee of beauty, wealth and luxury. to her, with smiles of gay content, the _'squire_ his eager footsteps bent, and did in lofty tone proclaim his change of fortune as of name; and told her it would be his pride, at a small fête would she preside, which he propos'd in style to give, where he would all her friends receive; for this was now the only way he had to make his party gay: and the first flourish of his plan to figure as a _gentleman_. --she smil'd and said she'd bring him plenty, then ask'd at once his cards for twenty. --the fête was given,--the dance, the song, and feasting did the night prolong, which pleasure gave to full two score, whom he had never seen before;- but, his great object to maintain, these he must strive to see again; at all their doors his cards present, and thus, by various compliment, to form a circle of such friends as would secure his serious ends, in social ease to pass the day, and often find an evening gay. --but _'squire free-born_ quickly found he did not tread on solid ground, and 'gan to fear he should not see the way to that society, which forms of life the happiest measure: by mutual interchange of pleasure. --'twas but slight chat if he should meet his new acquaintance in the street; he seldom found, or more or less, but gen'ral forms of _politesse_, and that, too often, at the best, was but in flimsy style exprest. --ladies would ask him to the play, to take his arm and let him pay; and when to cards, he always lost more than the wine and biscuits cost. he found, as yet, but little done- 'twas neither common sense nor fun, where kind regard would ne'er encrease, and int'rest wak'd the wish to please; where words were either cold or hearty, as he propos'd to give a party; and a good supper was the charm that did to transient friendship warm, for that, alas, no longer lasted, than while they thought on what they tasted. _'squire free-born_ soon began to feel a relaxation in his zeal to push away that class among who did his evening parties throng, from whom no fair return was made, and mod'rate fashion was display'd. manners were ap'd, but in a way that did vulgarity betray; and the best show that he might see, was dash of awkward finery:- besides, a rude and rough event gave spirit to his discontent. --he call'd, one day, where, on admission, the parties were in sad condition; it was a scene of mutual flame, 'tween _start-up_ and his lovely dame. he was a clerk on public duty, and she a most conceited beauty: when, as he enter'd, her sharp tongue began in tones both harsh and strong,- "_pray, free-born, do you think it breeding, that he should thus be always reading?_ _when he does from his office come 'tis thus he sits hum-drum at home, as if he thought so low my wit i'm not for conversation fit; nor does he seem to rate me higher than to trace figures in the fire!" --"call you, hum-drum, that information so suited to official station_," he sternly said, "_which now engages attention to these curious pages_!" --"_my mind_," she cried, "_was in the dark when i was married to a clerk:- o had i join'd a fool instead of one to office breeding bred! he, who in honour should protect me, you see, sir, how he dares neglect me!_" --in terms polite to praise and blame, _free-born_ now hop'd to quench the flame, and therefore offer'd, nothing loth, to give a little spice of both. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus, interrupts a tête a tête.] "madam, by persons of discerning, my friend is known for store of learning; while you are bless'd with those rare charms, a prince might wish to fill his arms." he gently smil'd and so did she, at this same two-fold flattery, which, in a moment, seem'd to smother the flames of anger 'gainst each other: he therefore ventur'd to proceed, but did not now so well succeed. "you ask me to unfold my thought, which is with truth and friendship fraught. we all well know, in life's great stake, there's such a rule as _give and take_; a maxim, with your good in view, i recommend to both of you. on this, for peace, fix your reliance, and learn to practise kind compliance. if he is haughty, soothe his pride, nor with disdainful glances chide. when you are angry, he must chase } all frownings from that lovely face, } with tender words and soft embrace. } both of you now are in the wrong, _he_ with his book,--_you_ with your tongue." but, ere he could his speech conclude, with scornful look and accents rude, again the furious dame began:- "_what impudence is in the man! thus, 'gainst his betters, to let loose his vulgar tongue in such abuse. my husband to be thus belied, who is my love, my boast, my pride!_" when _start-up_ foam'd,--"_you risk your life, in treating thus my darling wife; who, i proclaim, as 'tis my duty, has charms superior to her beauty!_" then each gave each a warm embrace, and both star'd in poor _free-born's_ face, the one as if _he_ wish'd to beat him, the other as if _she_ could have eat him. he then, as suiting her desire, threw the base volume in the fire, when she----"_thus ends a petty fuss which may cross those who love like us; though i might wish it had not been by such a saucy booby seen_." --_free-born_, but not from sense of fear, now thought it best to disappear; and as they rang the clam'rous bell, he heard them both the servant tell- "discharg'd you shall be, if the door is open'd to that varlet more." --such vulgar threat the _'squire_ amus'd, for he no more would be refus'd by those whose silly actions prove that they could scold, and lie, and love: but still he rather felt the wrongs which had proceeded from the tongues of those who had no fair pretence at what he said to take offence: a pretty way to make amends for having treated them as friends; in short, he thought it best to fly his late acquir'd society: pert lawyers and such busy men as in some office wield the pen; who, when their daily labour's done, put their best coats and faces on; leave home, where tallow dimly lights 'em, for wax, when some dull fool invites 'em, the plenteous evening to prolong in lively glee or tender song, or in some funny tale to shine, and give a current to the wine. there, too, their wives and sisters flow, } gay, scanty finery to show, } in gawdy trim and furbelow; } who can, perhaps, the music play, and scream the carol of the day; nay, work a waltz, while staring eyes proclaim their gentle ecstasies. at length the shawls and wrappers come, when in their hacks they trundle home. --though, after all, whate'er his aim, whate'er his fancy chose to claim, 'twas not amiss;--this _first degree_ in what is call'd society, where step by step he must advance to higher place in fashion's dance: but with the folk, he 'gan to find, who din'd with him, he never din'd, and got no more than casual tea for what his guests thought luxury; and, in a snug, familiar way, for all they gave, they made him pay. besides, he sometimes felt offence, at what he thought impertinence: such as they were, both great and small, he cut acquaintance with them all. his purse had thus indulg'd his whim, but they ne'er heard again from him. he now suspected that his plan, of turning to a _gentleman_, was not so easy to be brought to such success as he had thought. but still he ventur'd to turn over new plans by which he might discover some means to realize his scheme, } but it, at times, began to seem } somewhat, indeed, too like a dream. } to thinking minds it is not strange that man is seen so soon to change, and, when he gets on random chace, to move so quick from place to place. if no fix'd principles he trust which reason says are true and just, the busy world will not restrain him, nor in one beaten path maintain him. now here, now there, he is as oft seen to sink low as rise aloft. as he moves on, how he will vary from sober thought to gay vagary; nay, seem the tempers to unite of dons 'bout whom historians write; the one whose name our laughter cheers, and he who pass'd his time in tears. what wonder then that we should see in _free-born_, that variety, which, in his disappointed mind, nature may bid us look and find: though he must guess profoundly well, who could th' approaching change foretell. he long since felt it as a folly to think again on _pretty molly_, but when his project seem'd to fail, her image did again prevail; and humbler views began to find a passage to his wav'ring mind. instead of striving to pursue what he now fear'd would never do, he fancied that a tender wife might give a charm to rural life. _molly_ he fear'd not he could move to bless a home with married love, and that a cottage might be found, with garden green and meadow ground; where he might form his fragrant bowers, and deck the pretty lawn with flowers; beneath a beech-tree read his book, } and sometimes angle in the brook: } nay, even wield a shepherd's crook. } money he had, and so had she, and, with a due economy, far from the noisy world remov'd, and by each other fondly lov'd, they might pass on in plenteous ease, and lead a life of smiling peace. he slept, and, in a dream, he swore, } he saw his _parent-friend_, once more-} not looking as he did before, } but all so smirking, blithe and gay; when, sitting on a cock of hay, the prong and rake he seem'd to wield, as he were master of the field: he spoke not, but he seem'd to speak,- "_this is the life, boy, you must seek_." --such was another strong emotion to aid the new, romantic notion, and think of nought but cottage life, with pretty molly for his wife. he turn'd this over in his mind, and ev'ry hour felt more inclin'd to take the maiden by surprize, and this fond dream to realize. sweet molly now was gone from town as waiting-maid to _lady brown_, who lives a portion of the year at her fine place in devonshire; nor did _fond corydon_ delay to write his mind another day: while, to amuse th' impatient hours, he fill'd his room with shrubs and flowers: branching _geraniums_ were seen to make his ev'ry window green, and something like a picture wear of future scenery he might share. our time does like our watches go sometimes too fast,--sometimes too slow; but to the _'squire_, for he was still a _'squire_, though now against his will, old _bald-pate_ mov'd with tardy tread, as if his feet were hung with lead; but he went on:--an answer came, sign'd molly, with no other name! he thought it odd, but did not wait to make it matter of debate, so quick his hurry to be shown the passion which the page would own. he read,--"_i've heard, bless heav'n, my friend! } (with thanks for what you might intend,) } your serving days are at an end: } thus i believ'd, and find it true, i could no longer think of you. it seems to be your prosp'rous fate to come into a great estate; and so i thought it heaven's decree, you ought no more to think of me. besides, as you have never wrote, i fancied molly was forgot; when soon a tender lover came, a learned man, of preaching fame; he press'd me,--i was not obdurate, and so, i'm married to a curate! the match my lady much approv'd, and my good husband's so belov'd, our kind sir john has given his word that he shall shortly be preferr'd._ * * * * * poor _corydon_ could read no more, } but, in a rage the letter tore, } and kick'd the fragments round the floor: } toss'd some things up, and some things down, curs'd both the _country_ and the _town_; with pots and pans did battle rage- drove the geraniums from the stage, and wish'd no object now to see _of ruralized felicity_. the country letter turn'd the tide to rush upon his wounded pride: at once he thought it more than folly thus to have offer'd love to _molly_. nay, he began to smile at length; and, to regain becoming strength, he took to the well-known resort of season'd dish and good _old port_: when as he sat, with uplift eyes, } and, thro' the window, view'd the skies, } he ventur'd to soliloquize. } "my _genteel folk_ i have declin'd, at least, the sort which i could find; and just as much dispos'd to sneeze at all my _rural deities_: but still i've got a heap of _cash_, and, while it lasts, will make a _dash_! but here one firm resolve i make,- _i never will my elbow shake_; and if i take care not to _play_, } i shall get something for my pay: } it will not _all_ be thrown away! } who knows what cupid, too, may do? for i may _win_ if i should _woo_; and e'en, in spite of this same _hump_, _fortune_ may turn me up a trump. --my standard now shall be unfurl'd, and i will rush into the world: nay, when i have the world enjoy'd, with emptied purse and spirits cloy'd, i then can trip it o'er the main: valcour will take me back again; once more his humble friend receive, with all the welcome he can give: we know not what from ill may screen us, and i, once more, shall be quæ genus." --he spoke, and seem'd to close his plan of keeping up the _gentleman_. the sun had sunk beneath the west, to go to bed and take his rest, as poets feign, in thetis lap, where he ne'er fails to have a nap; when, with his second bottle rallied, our hero rose, and out he sallied in search of any lively fun, that he, perchance, might hit upon. --as through a court he chanc'd to pass, he saw a gay, well-figur'd lass, who, in her floating fripp'ry shone, with all the trim of fashion on. she had descended from a coach, and did a certain door approach, with tripping step and eager haste, when soon th' illumin'd arch she pass'd: and still he saw, in height of feather, small parties enter there together, while jovial gentlemen appear'd, who, as they came, each other cheer'd. --he asked, where these fine ladies went? the watchman said,--"for merriment; and should a little dancing fit you, a crown, your honour, will admit you." --the 'squire then rapp'd, the door was op'd, he gave his coin, and in he popp'd: the music sounded in the hall, and smiling faces grac'd the ball, where, as he lov'd a merry trip with some _gay miss_ he chose to skip, but as they _waltz'd_ it round in pairs a noise was heard upon the stairs, and strait a magistrate appear'd with solemn aspect; while, uprear'd, official staves in order stand, to wait the laws' so rude command. --sad hurry and confusion wait on this their unexpected state; when there broke forth, as it might seem, from snow-white throats, a fearful scream; nor, to add horror, was there wanting some strong appearances of fainting: but justice, with its iron brow unfeeling scowl'd on all the show. in shriller tones the ladies cried, in diff'rent key the beaux replied, though some consoling bev'rage quaff, give a smart twirl, nor fear to laugh: while coarser voices,--"hold your tongue, pack up your alls and come along." then, of fair culprits full a score, and of their dancing partners more, beneath stern power's relentless rod, were rang'd, and order'd off to quod. they march'd away in long procession to take the fruits of their transgression:- staffmen did at their head appear, and watchmen lighted up the rear. our hero felt the ridicule of having idly play'd the fool, and, as he handed on his _belle_, he could not but compare the smell that rotten root and trodden leaf do to th' offended senses give of those who, by the lamp's pale light, through covent-garden stroll at night, with all the garlands which he weav'd ere molly's letter was receiv'd: and all the fragrance of the flowers he thought to cull in molly's bowers; nay, which, but the preceding morning, his promis'd hopes had been adorning. it was indeed a noisome change, o it was strange, 'twas passing strange! but still the watch-house made amends, such as they were, they gave him friends. which here, i'm not suppos'd to think were such as save from ruin's brink; but lively sprites who have a taste to hurry on the stream to waste. thus, when the welcome morn was come, and justice sent the party home; he and two blades of certain feather propos'd to pass the day together: the one, more grave, declar'd his breed, famous on t'other side the _tweed_, the other lively, brisk and airy, boasted his birth in _tipperary_; though whether this were truly so, 'tis from their words alone we know: but they were easy, free and jolly, decided foes to melancholy, and seem'd well-form'd to aid a day in passing pleasantly away. --but first the trio thought it best to snatch some hours' refreshing rest, when, as it was in summer's pride, } they pass'd their jovial hours beside } the crystal _thames_ imperial tide; } and as the river roll'd along, made the banks echo with their song. --at length it was a rival jest who of the three could sing the best. --the sturdy scot the song began, and thus th' harmonious contest ran. wallace, who fought and bled, he sung, whose name dwells on a nation's tongue. the 'squire, in boist'rous tone declar'd, and neither lungs nor quavering spar'd, that britain triumph'd o'er the waves and britons never would be slaves. then erin's son, with sweeter voice, exclaim'd, "i'll make you both rejoice; o with a famous song i'll treat you, and then you both shall say i've beat you your verses are old-fashion'd prosing, my song is of my own composing; and though 'tis to lov'd erin's fame, to all three kingdoms 'tis the same." the hearers both politely bow'd, } when he, of his fam'd subject proud, } pour'd forth his accents deep and loud. } [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus committed, with a riotous dancing party, to the watch-house.] song. it has long been agreed by all persons of learning who in stories of old have a ready discerning, that in every country which travellers paint, there has always been found a protector or saint. derry down, etc. st. george for old england, with target and lance, st. andrew for scotland, st. denis for france, st. david o'er wales, so long known to preside, and st. patrick, hibernia's patron and pride. derry down, etc. he was gallant and brave as a saint ought to be, for st. george was not braver or better than he, he would drink and would sing and would rattle like thunder, though 'twas said, he was, now and then given to blunder. derry down, etc. but the jests of his friends he took in good part, for his blunders were nought but th' excess of his heart; though there was but one blunder he ever would own, and that was when he saw all the claret was gone. derry down, etc. he'd fight for his country's religion and laws, and when beauty was injur'd he took up the cause, for the gallant st. patrick, as ev'ry one knows, was fond of a pretty girl under the rose. derry down, etc so many his virtues, it would be too long to rehearse them at once in a ballad or song; then with laughter and mirth let us hallow his shrine, and drown all his bulls in a bumper of wine. derry down, etc. then st. _patrick_, st. _george_ and st. _andrew_ shall be the protectors of kingdoms so brave and so free: thus in vain will the thunders of _denis_ be hurl'd, for our _trio of saints_ shall give laws to the world. derry down, etc. hard went the hands upon the board, and erin's praises were _encor'd_. thus when the pleasant song was heard, hibernia's minstrel was preferr'd; nor from the voice or in the eye was there a hint of jealousy: nay, while they took their parting glass, these sentiments were heard to pass. "the thistle, shamrock and the rose may challenge all the world at blows: _english_ and _irish_ names are known,- there's _marlborough_ and _wellington_; and o, what men of glorious name do _scotia's_ annals give to fame!" [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus engaged with jovial friends: or ... who sings best?] with friends like these the 'squire began his new career, and thus it ran, with others whom he chanc'd to light on in trips to _tunbridge_ or to _brighton_, swells at most public places known and as gay triflers 'bout the town; who might, perhaps, at times resort to _billiard-rooms_ or _tennis-court_, where lively grace, and easy skill might flatter fortune to their will. _freeborn_ these gay companions sought, who soon their brisk disciple taught how to direct his lively course by the snug compass in his purse; in short, who tutor'd his quick sense } in the gay world to make pretence } by modest, well-dress'd impudence. } --ye _dandies_, _bucks_ or by what name _bond street_ re-echoes with your fame; whether in _dennet_, _gig_ or _tandem_, in five-cap'd coats you bang at random, with such nice skill that you may break your own, or _dulcinea's_ neck: or, when lock'd arm in arm you meet, from the plain causeway to the street, drive ladies in their morning walk, while you enjoy your lounging talk: then saunter off to pass your hours in roving through those gaudy bowers where purchas'd pleasure seems design'd to occupy the thoughtless mind: and, having idled through the day, } to quicken dull night's weary way, } you seek the mask, the dance or play;-} with you our hero did contrive to keep himself and time alive; but now and then too prone to trace those scrapes that border on disgrace, and threat the unreflecting plan of the best would-be gentleman! from such as these he was not free, } as we, i fear, shall shortly see, } in this so busy history. } --to him no social life was known, his home, his friends were through the town who were seen wand'ring here and there, caring for no one, no one's care; prepared no pleasures to receive but coin could buy or chance might give; and would prove lively or were dull, as the silk purse was drain'd or full. for though deck'd out with all the art that fashion's journeymen impart, they never pass'd the tonish wicket of high-life, but by purchas'd ticket obtain'd by the resistless bribe to traitors of the livried tribe, which, by some bold disguise to aid, might help them through a masquerade; or, with some sly, well-fram'd pretence and varnish'd o'er with impudence, a proud admittance might obtain with chance to be turn'd out again: nor was the luckless _freeborn_ spar'd, when he the saucy trial dar'd. --one night, the hour we need not tell, into a trap the coxcomb fell. as through the streets he rattled on lamps with inviting brilliance shone; the music's sound, the portal's din told 'twas a joyous scene within: the second bottle of the night, might have produced a double sight, and two-fold courage to pursue the splendid prospect in his view, he, therefore bade the hack approach, and at the door present the coach; then made a push, got through the hall, and quickly mingled with the ball. --whether his face was too well known among the dashers of the town, who do not an admittance gain among the more distinguish'd train, whose social habits will exclude the mere street-trampling multitude, who, like the insects of a day, make a short buzz and pass away: or whether the intruding sinner eat as he seem'd to want a dinner; or if it did his fancy suit to line his pocket with the fruit; or if he let some signal fly, not usual in such company, or if his spirits were so loud as to alarm the polish'd crowd; whatever was the spell that bound him, suspicion more than hover'd round him; for, he replied with silent stare, } as he was taken unaware, } when he was ask'd how he came there. } nor did he show a visage bold when, in a whisper, he was told, but still with steady look express'd by the stern master of the feast, if he wish'd not to play a farce to make his pretty figure scarce. --that such a part he might not play } which menac'd e'en the least delay, } he thought it best to glide away; } and, to avoid the threat'ning rout, as he push'd in, he darted out. a tonish matron who ne'er fail'd where she was ask'd and cards prevail'd, my lady dangle was her name, and 'twas the fancy of the dame still to retain the antique plan at night to dance in a _sedan sedans_, so known the fair to coop, when clad in the expanding hoop, snug chairs borne on by sturdy feet, once seen in ev'ry courtly street; and one a most uncommon sight, was waiting at the door to-night; which, in all due array, was come, to bear my _lady dangle_ home. the chairmen lifted up the top, when _freeborn_, with a sprightly hop, and his cloak wrapp'd around his face, made bold to seize the vacant place: the bearers, not intent to know, whether it were a _belle_ or _beau_, went on--a cheary footman bore a flambeau, blund'ring on before: while, ere the 'squire, in this sad scrape, had time to plan his next escape, a heap of paviour's stones which lay directly in the chairmen's way, gave them a fall upon the road, with their alarm'd, mistaken load. each watchman sprang his rousing rattle, but as no voices call'd for battle, they did the best without delay to set the party on their way: while the attendants on the chair, half-blinded by the flambeau's glare, first rais'd their weighty forms and then set the _sedan_ upright again: nor e'er attempted to explore the hapless head that burst the door. but such was _freeborn's_ falling fate, which such confusion did create within the region of his brain, he did not know his home again: nay, when the wearied chairmen stopp'd, into the house he stagg'ring popp'd; then to and fro got up the stairs, and, straddling o'er opposing chairs, he star'd, but knew not he was come } to lady dangle's drawing room, } but wildly thought himself at home. } then on a sofa threw his length, thus to regain exhausted strength, and grunted, groan'd and drew his breath, as if it were the hour of death. sir david dangle, whom the gout had kept that night from going out, was sitting in all sick-man's quiet, nor dreaming of a scene of riot when, waken'd into wild amaze, he did on the strange vision gaze, while the bold reprobate intrusion threw all the house into confusion. in rush'd domestics one and all, who heard the bell's alarming call; while stamping crutch and roaring voice encreas'd the knight's awak'ning noise that he might quick assistance stir against this unknown visiter. but while the household struggled hard to keep him still, and be his guard, till he thought fit to lay before 'em the cause of all his indecorum; my lady came to set all right and check the hurry of the night: she then, to soothe his rude alarms clasp'd her dear knight within her arms, those arms which, for full forty years, as from tradition it appears, had sometimes strok'd his chin and coax'd him, and now and then had soundly box'd him. "it is," she said, "some heated rake, who has occasion'd the mistake. but loose your hands, i do protest, to be thus us'd, he's too well drest for though his face i do not know } he does some air of fashion show, } playing his pranks incognito." } --"it may be so," the knight replied, and then he shook his head and sigh'd: "i'm not a stranger to the game, when i was young, i did the same." --beside sir david, madam sat: to charm his flurry with her chat her tongue pour'd forth its ready store and talk'd the busy evening o'er; their biscuits took and, nothing loth, moisten'd them well with cordial broth; thus, till bed call'd, enjoy'd their quaffing, he with hoarse chuckle--she with laughing. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ the party breaking up, and quæ genus breaking down.] as he his innocence had vow'd, our hero press'd his hands and bow'd, nay look'd, with humble, downcast eye, the mirror of apology. besides, he well knew how to bribe the service of the liv'ried tribe; so, without fear of ill to come, he was convey'd in safety home. --with the next noon his morning came, and serious thoughts began to claim attention to the life he past, and how much longer it might last: for the hard blow he had receiv'd, by the chair's fall, had so aggriev'd the pericranium's tend'rest part that it requir'd a surgeon's art, who, to relieve the threat'ning pains applied the leeches to his veins, he then with blistering proceeded, the strong cathartic next succeeded, with light debarr'd to either eye, and undisturb'd tranquillity: such was the system to restore his health to what it was before. thus bound to silence and confin'd it was a period for the mind to yield to those reflecting powers which flow from solitary hours. 'tis said by one, no chattering dunce that changes seldom come at once; and to those changes we refer which work in human character. reason at once does not disown us, nor instant folly seize upon us; it is by a progressive course that habit sinks from bad to worse, and thus the happier impulse moves by which the character improves: the struggle that controuls the will from ill to good, from good to ill, is not a contest for the power that lasts but through a transient hour. virtue's fine ardor does not yield but after many a well-fought field;- nor do the baser passions cool till they despair to overule, by secret spell or virtue's fire, the glowing of the heart's desire. thus, as through pictur'd life we range, we see the varying landscape change, but, as the diff'rent scenes we view, if we have hearts we feel them too: and then, how charming is the sight when virtue rises to its height and triumphs o'er the conquer'd foe that flaps its baffled wing below. what though such images as these may look to eccentricities beyond the reach of those whose claim is shelter'd by a borrow'd name: yet still our system may apply the force of its philosophy to ev'ry track of human life, where the heart feels conflicting strife; in short, where 'tis the painful lot, and in what bosom is it not, to struggle in the certain feud between the evil and the good, that in our mortal nature lies with all its known propensities: nor shall we on our hero trample as an inadequate example. he'll serve as well as brighter tools to give an edge to moral rules, and _freeborn's_ frolics may prevail to give a spirit to the tale which in its fashion and its feature bears, as we trust, the stamp of nature. --besides, it surely has appear'd, he was at first in virtue rear'd, nor do we fear, however cross'd, his virtue has been wholly lost: nor will our kind and honest muse the hope, nay the belief refuse, that, after all his follies past, much good may still remain at last which might, with reason's aid, at length, be felt in more than former strength. how this may happen we shall see in our progressive history. [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus turned out of a house which he mistakes for his own.] thus he, for many a night and day, in strict, prescriptive silence lay, for he all talking was forbid no friends must visit, if they did, all galen's efforts would be vain for the re-settling of his brain; and when acquaintance chanc'd to come it must be said, "he's not at home:" nay, his kind friends, when it appear'd, that e'en his life was rather fear'd, and that his hospitable fare might quickly vanish into air: though as the knocker still was tied, they just ask'd if he liv'd or died. but other reasons soon prevail that made his vain pretensions fail to ask them now and then to dine, and prove their welcome by his wine. for when they left him others came, more constant in their wish and aim; who, while the doctor order'd pills, would call, perhaps, to leave their bills; and sometimes in the way of trade might ask the favour to be paid. these things, as he lay still in bed, would sometimes tease his shaken head, and force him to consult his hoard, } to know what hopes that might afford } when he to health should be restor'd. } --that time arriv'd and he was free from offering another fee, but then he found more clumsy hands ready to grasp enlarg'd demands. --in all the playgames he had sought he found, at last, as might be thought, in worst of scrapes he now was left, our 'squire, alas, was deep in debt, and which was worse, of the amount, he could not pay the full account: nor were his drooping spirits cheer'd when ev'ry day a dun appear'd. there were no frolics now to charm the mind from feeling the alarm, at thought so painful to endure th' afflicting thought of being poor. but though discretion oft had fail'd him, and folly's gim-crack schemes assail'd him though his whole conduct might not bear the scrutinizing eye severe: yet honour was not dispossest of a snug corner in his breast, which there an influence did maintain, and, call'd to speak, spoke not in vain; for he refus'd, at once, to hear what smiling knaves pour'd in his ear, to scrape the relics of his hoard, make a long skip and get abroad; seize the first favourable wind, and laugh at those he left behind. --the counsel given, was given in vain; he met it with a just disdain, bore with mild humour each sly sneer, and smil'd when folly chose to jeer; resolv'd to pay to his last groat, though standing in his only coat. --'twas thus he thought in temper cool, "i may be call'd vain, silly fool, and something more i might deserve, but i would dig or almost starve, rather than in that concert join, which sprightly vagabonds design." --suspicion may be sometimes led to doubt the vows which, on the bed of pain and sickness, may be made, } when, by a trait'rous world betray'd } hope's future prospects sink and fade. } for when contrition views the past, because the passing day's o'ercast yet does no more its place retain when smiling hours return again, 'tis but an hypocritic art to mock the world and cheat the heart. but our sick hero, as the verse will, with unvarnish'd truth, rehearse, an eye of tearful sorrow threw } o'er some past years' reproachful view, } and trembling at the future too. } thus, of some awkward fears possess'd, he held a council in his breast, and felt the way to be pursued was now to do the best he could, and call on justice to receive the only tribute he could give. thus, at once, honest and discreet, he call'd his creditors to meet to hear proposals which he thought they would receive as just men ought: nay, fancied, when he told his tale, that lib'ral notions would prevail; nor could his gen'rous mind foresee the fruits of his integrity: for when he walk'd into the room he found th' invited guests were come, who soon began in hideous measure, to play away their loud displeasure, not unlike _andrews_ at a fair who to make gaping rustics stare, expand their lanky, lanthern jaws that fire may issue from their maws. one darted forth revengeful looks, another pointed to his books wherein a charge was never made, } that did not honour to his trade; } and curs'd th' accounts which were not paid, } nor fail'd to wish he could convey them, we'll not say where, who did not pay them. a _third_, as hard as he was able, struck his huge fist upon the table. while, beastly names from many a tongue, around the room resounding rung. as _freeborn_ had not quite possest the hope that he should be carest, he rather look'd with down-cast eye, to win by his humility, and put on a repentant face as suited to the awkward place: nay, his high spirits he prepar'd and call'd discretion for their guard in case, though it was not expected, decorum should be quite neglected:- but when the butcher strok'd his sleeve, } brandish'd his steel and call'd him thief, } belching forth mutton, veal and beef; } when touch'd by such a market sample they join'd to follow his example; when stead of praise for honest doing } and the fair course he was pursuing } they loos'd their banter on his ruin; } his prudence then was thrown aside from sense of irritated pride, and, patient bearing quite exhausted, he thus the angry circle roasted.- "you all in your abuse may shine, but know--_abuse will never coin_! remember you have had my trade, for some few years, and always paid; while for your charges you must own, i let them pass, nor cut them down, and customers, such fools like me are prizes in your lottery. put but your loss and gain together, i should deserve your favour, rather than this rude and unseemly treating, as if i gain'd my bread by cheating. you know, you set of thankless calves, you are well paid if paid by halves; and spite of knowing nods and blinking, i have been told, and can't help thinking, all that now may remain to pay the claims which bring me here to-day, a just arithmetic would tell will pay your honours very well! but i have done--nay, i shall burst if i say more----so do your worst.----" [illustration: _drawn by rowlandson_ quæ genus & creditors.] he threw himself into a chair, while each at each began to stare; when, from a corner of the room, a milder voice appear'd to come, and, without prefatory art, was heard opinions to impart which as he spoke them, did not fail o'er the loud rancour to prevail. "gem'men,- "i cannot but refuse my honest vote to your abuse; and had i thought it was your plan thus to foul-mouth a _gentleman_, (and such he is, i'll boldly say, by all he has propos'd to-day) i would have stay'd and minded home, nor to this boist'rous meeting come! you could not give a harder banging to one whose deeds had call'd for hanging. what i've to say there's no denying- nor will i please you now by lying. for no short time, you all can tell, we each charg'd high and he paid well; nay, now that he is gone to pot he gives us all that he has got, and with a pittance is content to take him to the continent: nor by sly tricks does he deceive ye but gives you all that he can give you; and, if again of wealth possest, i doubt not but he'll pay the rest; now he who does the best he can, i'm certain he's a _gentleman_. for me, whate'er may be your will, i'll take his terms and trust him still; and my best judgement recommends the same right conduct to my friends." much more the lib'ral tradesman said and still continued to persuade with arguments that bore the test from that known power call'd interest, which, by degrees, becalm'd the riot, and clos'd the scene in gen'ral quiet. thus, grumb'ling o'er, with parting glass, the settling hour was seen to pass, and soon dismiss'd our _freeborn_ home to meditate on times to come, _with the first pleasure man can know, of doing what he ought to do_. whether it was his ready way, as we know not, we cannot say- but as he saunter'd through a court, a passage of no small resort, well known to lawyer's daily tread, as to the _king's-bench walks_ it led, a placard of no common size compell'd the gaze of passing eyes: when, as he read, he saw it bore the well-known name he whilom bore, while there was forc'd upon his view the _rev'rend_ doctor syntax too; nay, as he thought, it seem'd to be a brief of his own history: nor was it sure an idle whim to think that it belong'd to him. the advertisement did address, in all the pomp of printing press, th' important loss which was sustain'd and the reward that might be gain'd by those who should the loss restore to those who did th' event deplore. then o'er and o'er he read the paper that set his spirits in a caper; for when he trac'd the pedigree, he whisper'd to himself--"'_tis_ me." nor do i from the hope refrain, } nor do i think i boast in vain,- } quæ genus is _himself again_!" } but here it may become the verse, the placard's purpose to rehearse, this advertisement courts regard to full five hundred pounds reward. * * * * * "_upwards of twenty years ago, or more or less it may be so, some one had ventur'd to expose in clean and decent swaddling clothes, an infant, laid before the door mark'd number three in number four, of chambers which distinction claim, and paper buildings is their name: now any one who can but give } assurance that he still doth live, } the above reward will then receive. } quæ genus is the foundling's name, which, if alive, he best can claim, for now at least it is not known that he can any other own. the kind_ protector _of his_ birth } _was a divine of highest worth- } who held preferment in the north_-} _syntax was his much-honour'd name, nor is he now unknown to fame. but time has long since laid his head on his last low and silent bed; and search has hitherto been vain, the foundling's present state to gain. a laundress now is still alive who can some information give, and betty broom is the known name of the communicating dame to whose kind care deliver'd first, the babe was given to be nurs'd. th' exposure she can well display as if it were but yesterday, but further knowledge is requir'd and what events may have conspir'd to shape his life--if he should live, 'tis what this paper asks to give. who has such tidings and will tell 'em, with all due proofs, to mr. vellum, or sent by post to his abode, near_ shoreditch church _in_ hackney road, _will the remuneration prove that's fully stated as above._" again he read the paper o'er, resolv'd its purport to explore, and strait to _number_ three repairs when hobbling down the ancient stairs, he met the matron whom he sought, and told his story as he ought, a rapid sketch--nor did it fail to be an interesting tale: which when she heard, against the wall the broom she held was seen to fall, and scarce her old arms could prevail to bear the burthen of her pail. her glasses then she sought to place on the _proboscis_ of her face; not that a likeness she should see 'tween riper years and infancy. but now her heart began to melt at _recollections_ that she felt, and thus she wish'd to tell them o'er, as she had often done before. "what, though so many years are gone, and you to man's estate are grown, since i, in all its infant charms, dandled the foundling in my arms, were i but certain it was _you_, yes i would hug--and kiss you too." --but though he vow'd and did exclaim he was the very--very same; and though he put forth ev'ry grace } with which his words could gild his face, } he could not gain a kind embrace; } though twenty-five don't often sue to claim a kiss from sixty-two: but some suspicions had possess'd the avenues to _betty's_ breast; for she liv'd where her open ear was practis'd ev'ry day to hear of art array'd in fairest guise and truth o'erthrown by artifice. thus what could the old matron do? she fear'd him false, and wish'd him true: then turn'd him round, but look'd aghast, as at his back her eye she cast; when she thus spoke, and heav'd a sigh, "i hope it is not treachery! before that door the child lay sprawling, and mov'd the doctor with its squalling: but, before heaven i can swear, it then was as a cherub fair; strait as a little arrow he, in perfect form and symmetry; and from its neck unto its rump, believe me, he had no such hump as that, though hid with every care, your injur'd form is seen to bear; and cannot but appear to be a natural deformity. how this change came of course you know,- with the poor child it was not so;- prepare its hist'ry to explain, or you will visit here in vain. --my good young man, strive not to cheat, nor think to profit by deceit: you have with knowing folk to do, not to be foil'd by such as you. i own you tell a moving tale, but facts alone will now prevail: you will be sifted up and down till e'en your marrow-bones are known. --i've not another word to say; to _master vellum_ take your way, you'll find him at his snug abode near _shoreditch church_, in _hackney road_: for, when the infant first was left, of all parental care bereft, the bookseller and i, between us, had much to do with dear quæ genus: for to his shop i us'd to go 'twas then in _paternoster row_, as he the money did supply for the poor foundling's nursery. --o, if he finds your story true, } it will, indeed, be well for you! } i will then hug and kiss you too!" } he took his leave--she gave a blessing as good, perhaps, as her caressing. in haste, and on his great intent to _vellum_ he his footsteps bent; who had long since left off the trade by which he had a fortune made: but why we do the old man see a figure in this history, becomes a duty to explain, nor shall it be employ'd in vain: and now, as brief as can be told, we must the mystery unfold; and, since so many years are o'er, why it was not explain'd before. though he who length of life has seen, must have a cold observer been; whose languid or incurious eye has not the power to descry, on what a chain of odds and ends the course of human life depends. but now we quit the beaten road and turn into an _episode_, nor fear the track, though we shall draw the picture of a _man of law_; for we have seldom had to do with one so gen'rous, just and true; so he was thought by grateful fame, and _fairman_ was the good man's name. if in that long-suspected trade an honest fortune e'er was made 'twas that he could in honour boast as justice always tax'd the cost. 'twas his to bid contention cease and make the law a friend to peace: he strove to silence rising feud, and all his practice led to good: by mildest means it was his aim to silence each opposing claim; to take injustice by the brow and make it to right reason bow: nay, where in courts he must contend, he saw no foe, and knew no friend. he fail'd not by his utmost power to wing with speed law's ling'ring hour; a busy foe to dull delay, he spurr'd each process on its way; nor were his words, by skill made pliant, arrang'd to flatter any client: whene'er he claim'd his well-earn'd fee, _justice_ and _law_ would answer--_yea_. and when oppression knit its brow and said, _proceed_,--he answer'd--_no_. --when summon'd to the great _assize_, held in the court above the skies, he will not be afraid to hear the verdict which awaits him _there_. --such was the man who soon would own quæ genus as his darling son. canto ix the man of pure and simple heart through life disdains a double part, nor does he need a mean device his inward bosom to disguise: thus as he stands before mankind his actions prove an honest mind. but though 'gainst reason's rigid rule he may have play'd the early fool, as wise men may, perhaps, have done in the long race which they have run; for passion, which will act its part in the best regulated heart, is, as we may too often see beset with nature's frailty. yet virtue in its course prevails; } the better impulse seldom fails } when smiling conscience holds the scales: } nay, through the venial errors past, maintains its influence to the last, and thus, with righteous hope endued, rests on _predominating good_. something like this we hope to see in our progressive history. one morn as worthy _fairman_ lay courting his pillow's soft delay, enjoying, in his mind's fair view, good he had done, or meant to do; a letter came, as it appear'd, sign'd by a name, he'd never heard, to beg he instant would attend an old and long-forgotten friend, matter of import to unfold which could by her alone be told, whose trembling hand in nature's spite had strove the wretched scrawl to write. she wish'd into his ear to pour the tidings of a dying hour, which she was anxious to impart to the recesses of his heart. this summons the good man obey'd and found upon, a sick-bed laid, a female form, whose languid eye seem'd to look bright when he drew nigh. --"listen," she said, "i humbly pray, though short the time, i've much to say. my features now no longer bear the figure when you thought them fair: maria was my borrow'd name } when passion shook my early claim } to woman's glory, that chaste fame } which when once lost, no power should give, but to repent--the wish to live. a mother's lab'ring pangs i knew, and the child ow'd its life to you. though ever gen'rous, just and kind here doubt perplex'd your noble mind, and had dispos'd you to believe that i was false, and could deceive: but now, if solemn oaths can prove, and if my dying words can move, should he be living, i'll make known the babe i bore to be _your own_. scarce was it born, but 'twas my care that you a parent's part should bear. my quiv'ring hands then wrapp'd it o'er, } i trembling plac'd it on the floor } and gave a signal at the door: } when i, my eyes bedimm'd with tears, and flurried by alarming fears, in a dark night mistook the stair and left it to a stranger's care. such was my error, as i thought the child was harbour'd where it ought; and, o my friend, how well i knew the helpless would be safe with you:- and when, by secret means, i heard it was receiv'd and would be rear'd, i doubted not you did prepare the blessings of a parent's care. --i was content, and join'd the train of warring men who cross'd the main; and since, for twenty years or more, i've follow'd camps on india's shore; but when, how chang'd by years of pain, i saw my native land again, i look'd, how vainly, for the joy of seeing my deserted boy! think how my disappointment grew, } when, from a strict research, i knew } he never had been known to you! } but, favour'd by the will of heaven, to mercy's hand he has been given; though of his first or latter years no record of him yet appears: at least, beyond the earliest day as in his cot the infant lay, and when his smiling place of rest was on a fondling nurse's breast! i the child's story, but in vain, have strove with anxious heart to gain; for she who gave him milk still lives and tells all that her mem'ry gives. but of your child what is become, whether he has a house or home, whether he sails the ocean o'er } or wanders on some desert shore, } whether he lives or breathes no more, } if you've the heart that once i knew may shortly be made known to you: for, with the means which you possess, he may be found your age to bless. i only ask of heaven to live to see him your embrace receive; and, dare i hope the joy, to join a mother's fond embrace with thine: then may my pilgrim wanderings cease, and i, at length, shall die in peace! --thus i have my last duty done, and may kind heaven restore your son!--" --she spoke--the tale she did impart sunk deep into the good man's heart; for, as he said, there did not live to close his eyes one relative. he then in eager speech declar'd no cost, no labour should be spar'd the boy to find, and should he be what his fond eyes might wish to see, his father's name he soon would bear, and of his fortune be the heir. --no time was lost--what could be done, to give her ease and find her son, was soon employ'd in ev'ry way that public notice could display. the good man now the subject weigh'd, then call'd in vellum to his aid, and did, with anxious wish commend the office to his long-known friend, to set afloat enquiry due if what maria told were true; nor did he think of pains or cost to find the stray-sheep that was lost. "to you," he said, "i give the task, the greatest favour i can ask, to trace, if 'tis in any power, the _foundling_ from that favor'd hour when doctor syntax first receiv'd the child and all its wants reliev'd; and you, at once, call'd in to share the wishes of his guardian care. believe me that my high-wrought feeling, which you must see there's no concealing," (for the tear glisten'd in his eye, and his breast spoke the long-drawn sigh) "disdains at once all sordid sense which hesitates at recompence: o what would i refuse to give should he be blest with worth and live! indulge my whims--nor let me know } or what you've done or what you do, } till you can answer--_yea_ or _no_. } till your grave voice attests my claim to bear a parent's tender name: nor let the claimant here be shown, till he is prov'd to be my own." vellum began by exercising his well-known zeal in advertising; nay, did, from _kent_, to the _land's-end_, quæ genus and his birth extend, and as the _king's bench walks_ had been of his first days the curious scene, within those environs were spread the grand _placards_ which he had read; and did a forc'd attention call to many a window, many a wall, whose tempting story to rehearse has wak'd an effort in our verse. quæ genus' plain, consistent tale seem'd with old vellum to prevail; and rather tallied with the view of what, in former times, he knew: but, that same _hump_ his shoulders bore, and oft had been his foe before, forbad the laundress to bestow a favouring opinion now; the want of which kept things aloof from certain and substantial proof. for though the doctors in the north, } men of acknowledg'd skill and worth, } were ready to confirm on oath, } that, 'twas disease which gave the blow and bent the strait back to a bow; yet this same hump of direful note still stuck in _betty's_ doubtful throat, for all that she would say or swear was, when the child was in her care, to the most, keen, observing eye, his back bore no deformity; and thus continued the suspense from want of better evidence. --_vellum_ was not without a fear, that, from the gout's attack severe, the anxious father's self might die before truth clear'd the mystery, and had, from doubt reliev'd, made known the child as his begotten son- besides on his discovery bent, to _oxford_ when kind _vellum_ went, to seek his venerable friend, the well-known rev'rend doctor bend, who would have set all matters right, he died on the preceding night. but still, as we pass on our way, what changes mark life's transient day; the sun-beams gild the o'erhanging cloud, the mists the glitt'ring rays enshroud; and, while from storms of beating rain } we strive some shelter to obtain, } the scene is chang'd--'tis bright again. } hence 'tis we share th' uncertain hour of joys that smile, of cares that lour. thus, while enquiry seem'd to wear the very aspect of despair, a sudden instantaneous thought was to old betty's mem'ry brought, that a _ripe_ strawberry, blushing red, as it grew on its verdant bed, by nature's whimsey, was impress'd not on the cheek or on the breast but _betty_ said, "'tis i know where, } and could i once but see it there, } on bible book, ay, i would swear, } the young man is the child who left, and, of a mother's care bereft, was by the doctor given to me to nurse his tender infancy." --quæ genus now was call'd to tell what he knew of this secret spell. when he without delay declar'd what of the mark he oft had heard by gamesome play-fellows at school when he was bathing in the pool; and though he sometimes strove to feel it, its strange position did conceal it from his own eyes, though, as a joke, it often did a laugh provoke. then did he to her wish display, what the verse hides from open day; but _betty broom_ was not so shy } to turn away her curious eye } from this same blushing strawberry. } nay, when she saw the mark, she swore she oft had kiss'd it o'er and o'er; and, were he not to manhood grown, she'd do what she so oft had done. o she exclaim'd with tears of joy, quæ genus is the very boy whom their so anxious wishes sought and was to full discovery brought. --nor was this all, at the strange show old vellum wip'd his moisten'd brow, and said, with an uplifted eye, "here ends this curious mystery." when he again, the symbol saw in its right place without a flaw, at once he did remember well, syntax would smiling oft foretell, this mark might to _the foundling_ show to whom he did existence owe. "'tis all fulfill'd, the proof is shewn,- the father may embrace _his son_!" as _vellum_, thought another hour should not delay that darling power he to his friend's impatient ear in all due substance did declare the hist'ry of quæ genus past, with all the proofs from first to last, as on his own conviction shone that he was truly _fairman's_ son: when the good man, with brighten'd eye, and the heart's tend'rest sympathy, as he look'd upwards thus express'd the joy that revell'd in his breast. "from all i've heard and you have shown with zeal and friendship rarely known, to the fond truth i'm reconcil'd that poor quæ genus is my child, confirm'd by all his mother said, as i sat by her dying bed; and ere another sun shall shine, i'll prove, at least, i think him mine, by giving him a rightful claim to share my fortune and my name. you then, my friend, may bring him here, 'tis a strange task, but do not fear, at this so unexpected hour, my firmness will relax its power,- though i'm beneath a certain course of medicine, of promis'd force on which i have a firm reliance to bid the tort'ring gout defiance, my vig'rous spirits will sustain the shock of joy as well as pain." --_vellum_, with pleasure now withdrew to shape the approaching interview,- and suit quæ genus to a change: so unexpected and so strange; but how can we relate the scene that is about to intervene where we shall see in different parts the weeping eyes, the melting hearts, affection's warm and yielding sense and looks of cold indifference, while reason yields, with ample fee, to be the dupe of quackery. this to describe with all the rest the verse, we trust, will do its best; but if the labour it refuses we'll scout old poll and his nine muses, and leave our john trot lines to tell the story and, we hope, as well. an _empiric_ had hither bent his journey from the continent, who boasted, by his chymic skill, disease was subject to his will; and that his cunning had found out a _panacea_ for the _gout_. it seems this wonderful receipt form'd a warm-bath for legs and feet; and ev'ry day, for a full hour, the period might be less or more, the patient sat, but ill at ease his legs immers'd up to his knees, each in a pail just plac'd before him fill'd with a fluid to restore him. _fairman_, who dup'd by quack'ry's lures, had often sought for promis'd cures thought it would be no harm to try the efforts of this remedy. --but _vellum_ eager to make known this curious pair as sire and son. did not consult his better reason respecting the right place and season, but a most heedless moment sought when he quæ genus trembling brought, while the old man up to his knees was bathing for expected ease, and thought of nothing but the ails he hop'd to drown within the pails. then _vellum_ said, my duty's done behold, my friend and see your son! quæ genus, kneeling on the floor, began a blessing to implore! the good man said, i ask of heaven that its protection may be given to this my long-lost, darling boy of coming time my only joy! 'twas then he press'd the frizzled hair and sunk back senseless in his chair. the good old _bookseller_ amaz'd on the strange, motley picture gaz'd, and _betty broom_ began to vow "'twere pity he should die just now." while the staid cook, whose ev'ry feature scarce knew a change from sober nature, was to expression ne'er beguil'd, who never wept nor ever smil'd then calmly said, but said no more, "i never saw him so before:"- while, "look! behold! see he revives!" quæ genus cried--"my father lives!" wonder and gratitude and fainting were there combin'd--what could be wanting to make the melting scene complete, but coffin and a winding-sheet? nor were those symbols long to seek, for, in a short and happy week, which was in warm affection past, the exulting father breath'd his last. [illustration: quæ genus discovers his father.] here then we make a pause to ask how fortune will achieve its task, and, to indulge the curious view, what track the fancy must pursue, from such a change in the affairs of the poor foundling on the stairs. whether the passions active strife will check repose and trouble life; whether the inmate of his breast will lead to turbulence or rest, make him repose beneath the shade at ease and indolently laid; whether the mind will yield to pleasure in that seducing form and measure, which strews temptations ev'ry hour and gold commands with ready power: --but other notions we had brought the proofs of our prophetic thought; that, not without a gleam of pride, he would chuse reason for his guide. when with a plenteous income arm'd and hospitable bosom warm'd, he from the gay world would retire and turn into a country 'squire; then, with those charms which heighten life, and blossom in a pleasing wife, enjoy that calm and tranquil state } that does on independence wait, } nor spurns the low, nor courts the great: } and though not from those frailties free the lot of man's infirmity, he might pass on to rev'rend age, and die a christian and a sage. --thus we our hero's picture drew as hope inspir'd, for future view, such as the coming years might see, such as we hop'd that he would be. but soon appear'd a threat'ning storm that did the expected scene deform, and many a cloud began to lour that veils the intellectual hour, though gleams of light would oft controul the darksome chaos of the soul: and a bright, instantaneous ray would gild a cloud and chear the day; and now and then a serious thought was to its proper object brought. whene'er, oppress'd with sudden gloom, in solemn steps he pac'd the room; then, his looks beaming with content, he turn'd to joy and merriment, and reason, for a wav'ring hour, would seem to re-assume its power. yet social habits he disclaim'd, wept when he prais'd, laugh'd when he blam'd, and, sometimes frowning, would declare life was not worth the liver's care. --whether it was the sudden change, so unexpected and so strange, or the accession large of wealth broke in upon his reason's health, or the concussion of his brain } which the night's frolic did sustain, } our science knows not to explain. } old _betty_ thought it must be love, which she would undertake to prove, as in his freaks that seem'd like folly he sung and danc'd and talk'd of _molly_, and frequently was seen to scrawl figures in chalk upon the wall, then fancy that he scatter'd flowers and sat in gay and fragrant bowers. --whate'er the hidden cause might be, } no sage experience could foresee } a cure for his infirmity. } he now grew worse from day to day, and nature hasten'd to decay: it soon was seen, no art could save quæ genus from an early grave. --old _vellum_ did not quit his care and _betty broom_ was always there. the foundling's life she had attended, as it began, and as it ended: his earliest days her cares embrac'd, her aged eyes wept o'er his last: they did his dying hour behold! --reader farewell,----the story's told! the end printed by morrison and gibb limited, edinburgh proofreading team. mr. punch's history of the great war 1919 first impression july 1919 second " july 1919 third " august 1919 fourth " august 1919 fifth " september 1919 sixth " october 1919 seventh " october 1919 [illustration: peace--the sower] to the reader _for whatsoever worth or wit appears in this mixed record of five hectic years, this tale of heroes, heroines--and others- thank first "o. s." and then his band of brothers who took their cue, with pencil and with pen, from the gay courage of our fighting men. theirs be the praise, not his, who here supplies merely the editorial hooks and eyes and, rich by proxy, prodigally spends the largess of his colleagues and his friends._ _c. l. g_. prologue though a lover of peace, mr. punch from his earliest days has not been unfamiliar with war. he was born during the afghan campaign; in his youth england fought side by side with the french in the crimea; he saw the old queen bestow the first victoria crosses in 1857; he was moved and stirred by the horrors and heroisms of the indian mutiny. a little later on, when our relations with france were strained by the imperialism of louis napoleon, he had witnessed the rise of the volunteer movement and made merry with the activities of the citizen soldier of brook green. later on again he had watched, not without grave misgiving, the growth of the great prussian war machine which crushed denmark, overthrew austria, and having isolated france, overwhelmed her heroic resistance by superior numbers and science, and stripped her of alsace-lorraine. in may, 1864, mr. punch presented the king of prussia with the "order of st. gibbet" for his treatment of denmark. in august of the same year he portrayed the brigands dividing the spoil and prussia grabbing the lion's share, thus foreshadowing the inevitable conflict with austria. in the war of 1870-1 he showed france on her knees but defying the new caesar, and arraigned bismarck before the altar of justice for demanding exorbitant securities. and in 1873, when the german occupation was ended by the payment of the indemnity, in a flash of prophetic vision mr. punch pictured france, vanquished but unsubdued, bidding her conqueror "au revoir." [illustration: gaul to the new caesar "defiance, emperor, while i have strength to hurl it!" _(dec. 17, 1870)_] more than forty years followed, years of peace and prosperity for great britain, only broken by the south african war, the wounds of which were healed by a generous settlement. but all the time germany was preparing for "the day," steadily perfecting her war machine, enlarging her armies, creating a great fleet, and piling up colossal supplies of guns and munitions, while her professors and historians, harnessed to the car of militarism, inflamed the people against england as the jealous enemy of germany's legitimate expansion. abroad, like a great octopus, she was fastening the tentacles of permeation and penetration in every corner of the globe, honeycombing russia and belgium, france, england and america with secret agents, spying and intriguing and abusing our hospitality. for twenty-five years the kaiser was our frequent and honoured, if somewhat embarrassing, guest, professing friendship for england and admiration of her ways, shooting at sandringham, competing at cowes, sending telegrams of congratulation to the university boat-race winners, ingratiating himself with all he met by his social gifts, his vivacious conversation, his prodigious versatility and energy. [illustration: the reward of (de)merit king punch presenteth prussia with the order of "st. gibbet." (_may 7_, 1864)] mr. punch was no enemy of germany. he remembered--none better--the debt we owe to her learning and her art; to bach and beethoven, to handel, the "dear saxon" who adopted our citizenship; to mendelssohn, who regarded england as his second home; to her fairy tales and folk-lore; to the brothers grimm and the _struwwelpeter_; to the old kindly germany which has been driven mad by war lords and pan-germans. if mr. punch's awakening was gradual he at least recognised the dangerous elements in the kaiser's character as far back as october, 1888, when he underlined bismarck's warning against caesarism. in march, 1890, appeared tenniel's famous cartoon "dropping the pilot"; in may of the same year the kaiser appears as the _enfant terrible_ of europe, rocking the boat and alarming his fellow-rulers. in january, 1892, he is the imperial jack-in-the-box with a finger in every pie; in march, 1892, the modern alexander, who assumes the god, affects to nod, and seems to shake the spheres; though unfortunately never nodding in the way that homer did. (this cartoon, by the way, caused _punch_ to be excluded for a while from the imperial palace.) in february, 1896, mr. punch drew the kaiser as fidgety will. in january, 1897, he was the imperial actor-manager casting himself for a leading part in _un voyage en chine_; in october of the same year he was "cook's crusader," sympathising with the turk at the time of the cretan ultimatum; and in april, 1903, the famous visit to tangier suggested the moor of potsdam wooing morocco to the strains of "unter den linden"--always at home, "under the limelight," wherever i roam. [illustration: "au revoir!" germany: "farewell, madam, and if--" france: "ha! we shall meet again!" (_sept. 27, 1873._)] in 1905 the kaiser was "the sower of tares," the enemy of europe. in 1910 he was teutonising and prussifying turkey; in 1911 discovering to his discomfort that the triple entente was a solid fact. and in september, 1913, he was shown as unable to dissemble his disappointment at the defeat of the german-trained turkish army by the balkan league. [illustration: the story of fidgety wilhelm (up-to-date version of "struwwelpeter") "let me see if wilhelm can be a little gentleman; let me sec if he is able to sit still for once at table!" "but fidgety will he _won't_ sit still." just like any bucking horse. "wilhelm! we are getting cross!" _feb._ 1, 1896.] [illustration: the sower of tares (_after millais, aug. 23, 1905_)] so, too, with turkey. from 1876 to 1913 mr. punch's cartoons on the near east are one continuous and illuminating commentary on lord salisbury's historic admission that we had "backed the wrong horse," culminating in the cartoon "armageddon: a diversion" in december, 1912, when turkey says "good! if only all these other christian nations get at one another's throats i may have a dog's chance yet." throughout the entire series the sick man remains cynical and impenitent, blowing endless bubble-promises of reform from his hookah, bullying and massacring his subject races whenever he had the chance, playing off the jealousies of the powers, one against the other, to further his own sinister ends. [illustration: solid germany: "donnerwetter! it's rock. i thought it was going to be paper." (_aug. 2, 1911_)] yet mr. punch does not wish to lay claim to any special prescience or wisdom, for, in spite of lucid intervals of foresight, we were all deceived by germany. nearly fifty years of peace had blinded us to fifty years of relentless preparation for war. but if we were deceived by the treachery of germany's false professions, we had no monopoly of illusion. germany made the huge mistake of believing that we would stand out--that we dared not support france in face of our troubles and divisions at home. she counted on the pacific influences in a liberal cabinet, on the looseness of the ties which bound us to our dominions, on the "contemptible" numbers of our expeditionary force, on the surrender of belgium. she had willed the war; the tragedy of sarajevo gave her the excuse. there is no longer any need to fix the responsibility. the roots of the world conflict which seemed obscure to a neutral statesman have long been laid bare by the avowals of the chief criminal. the story is told in the memoir of prince lichnowsky, in the revelations of dr. muehlon of krupp's, in the official correspondence that has come to light since the revolution of berlin. germany stands before the bar of civilisation as the _reus confitens_ in the cause of light against darkness, freedom against world enslavement. so the war began, and if "when war begins then hell opens," the saying gained a tenfold truth in the greatest war of all, when the aggressor at once began to wage it on non-combatants, on the helpless and innocent, on women and children, with a cold and deliberate ferocity unparalleled in history. let it now be frankly owned that in the shock of this discovery mr. punch thought seriously of putting up his shutters. how could he carry on in a shattered and mourning world? the chronicle that follows shows how it became possible, thanks to the temper of all our people in all parts of the empire, above all to the unwavering confidence of our sailors and soldiers, to that "wonderful spirit of light-heartedness, that perpetual sense of the ridiculous" which, in the words of one of mr. punch's many contributors from the front, "even under the most appalling conditions never seemed to desert them, and which indeed seemed to flourish more freely in the mud and rain of the front line trenches than in the comparative comfort of billets or 'cushy jobs.'" tommy gave mr. punch his cue, and his high example was not thrown away on those at home, where, when all allowance is made for shirkers and slackers and scaremongers, callous pleasure-seekers, faint-hearted pacificists, rebels and traitors, the great majority so bore themselves as to convince mr. punch that it was not only a privilege but a duty to minister to mirth even at times when one hastened to laugh for fear of being obliged to weep. in this resolve he was fortified and encouraged, week after week, by the generous recognition of his efforts which came from all parts of our far-flung line. this is no formal history of the war in the strict or scientific sense of the phrase; no detailed record of naval and military operations. there have been many occasions on which silence or reticence seemed the only way to maintain the national composure. it is _mr. punch's_ history of the great war, a mirror of varying moods, month by month, but reflecting in the main how england remained steadfastly true to her best traditions; how all sorts and conditions of men and women comported themselves throughout the greatest ordeal that had ever befallen their race. mr. punch's history of the great war _august, 1914._ four weeks ago we stood on the verge of the great upheaval and knew it not. we were thinking of holidays; of cricket and golf and bathing, and then were suddenly plunged in the deep waters of the greatest of all wars. it has been a month of rude awakening, of revelation, of discovery--of many moods varying from confidence to deep misgiving, yet dominated by a sense of relief that england has chosen the right course. sir edward grey's statement that we meant to stand by france and fulfil our obligations to belgium rallied all parties. "thrice armed is he that hath his quarrel just." the fleet "stands fast" and the vigil of the north sea has begun. lord kitchener has gone to the war office, and in twelve days from the declaration of war our expeditionary force, the best trained and equipped army that england has ever put into the field, landed in france. the dominions and india are staunch. every able-bodied public school boy and under-graduate of military age has joined the colours. the admiralty is crowded with living counterparts of captain kettle, offering their services in any capacity, linking up the merchant marine with the royal navy in one great solidarity of the sea. the empire is sound and united. so far the omens are good. but as the days pass the colossal task of the allies becomes increasingly apparent. peace-loving nations are confronted by a power which has prepared for war for forty years, equipped in every detail as no power has ever been equipped before, with a docile and well-disciplined people trained to arms, fortified by a well-founded belief in their invincibility, reinforced by armies of spies in every country, hostile or neutral. we are up against the mightiest war-machine of all time, wonderful in organisation, joining the savagery of the barbarian to the deadliest resources of modern science. the revelation of the black soul of germany is the greatest and the most hideous surprise of this month of months, crowning long years of treachery and the abuse of hospitality with an orgy of butchery and devastation--the torture and massacre of old men, women and children, the shooting of hostages, the sack and burning of towns and the destruction of ancient seats of learning. yet we feel that in trampling upon heroic belgium, who dared to bar the gate, germany has outraged the conscience of the world and sealed her ultimate doom. the month closes in gloom, the fall of liége, namur and brussels, the sack of louvain, and the repulse of the russian raid into east prussia at tannenberg following in rapid succession. against these disasters we have to set the brilliant engagement in the heligoland bight. but the onrush of the germans on the western front is not stayed, though their time-table has been thrown out by the self-sacrifice of the belgians, the steadfast courage of french's "contemptible little army" in the retreat from mons, and the bold decision of smith-dorrien, who saved the situation at le cateau. in these days of apprehension and misgiving, clouded by alarming rumours of a broken and annihilated army, it sometimes seems as though we should never smile again. where, in a world of blood and tears, can _punch_ exercise his function without outraging the fitness of things? these doubts have been with us from the beginning, but they are already being resolved by the discovery--another of the wonders of the time--that on the very fringes of tragedy there is room for cheerfulness. when our fighting men refuse to be downhearted in the direst peril, we at home should follow their high example, note where we can the humours of the fray, and "bear in silence though our hearts may bleed." [illustration: bravo, belgium!] [illustration: medical officer: "sorry i must reject you on account of your teeth." would-be-recruit: "man, ye're making a gran' mistake. i'm no wanting to bite the germans, i'm wanting to shoot 'em."] germany in one brief month has given us a wonderful exhibition of conscienceless strength, of disciplined ferocity. she has shown an equally amazing failure to read the character of her foes aright. we now know what german kultur means: but of the soul and spirit of england she knows nothing. least of all does she understand that formidable and incorrigible levity which refuses to take hard knocks seriously. it will be our privilege to assist in educating our enemies on these and other points, even though, as lord kitchener thinks, it takes three years to do it. the mad dog of europe is loose, but we remember the fate of the dog who "to serve some private ends went mad and bit the man." "the man recovered from his bite, the dog it was that died." meanwhile the official press bureau has begun its operations, the prince of wales's relief fund for the relief of those who may suffer distress through the war is started, and in the city because beneath grey northern skies some grey hulls heave and fall, the merchants sell their merchandise all just as usual. _september, 1914._ another month of revelations and reticences, of carnage and destruction, loss and gain, with the miracle of the marne as the first great sign of the turning of the tide. on september 3 the paris government moved to bordeaux, on the 5th the retreat from mons ended, on the 13th joffre, always unboastful and laconic, announced the rolling back of the invaders, on the 15th the battle of the aisne had begun. what an iliad of agony, endurance and heroism lies behind these dates--the ordeal and deliverance of paris, the steadfastness of the "contemptibles," the martyrdom of belgium! day by day germany unmasks herself more clearly in her true colours from highest to lowest. the kaiser reveals himself as a blasphemer and hypocrite, the imperial crocodile with the bleeding heart, the crown prince as a common brigand, the high command as chief instigators to ferocity, the rank and file as docile instruments of butchery and torture, content to use belgium women as a screen when going into action. the two germanies marvellous the utter transformation of the spirit of the german nation! once the land of poets, seers and sages, who enchant us in their deathless pages, holding high the torch of truth, and earning endless honour by their zeal for learning. such the land that in an age uncouther bred the soul-emancipating luther. such the land that made our debt the greater by the gift of _faust_ and _struwwelpeter_. now the creed of nietzsche, base, unholy, guides the nation's brain and guides it solely. now mozart's serene and joyous magic yields to richard strauss, the haemorrhagic.[a] now the eagle changing to the vulture preaches rapine in the name of culture. now the prussian _junker_, blind with fury, claims to be god's counsel, judge and jury, while the authentic german genius slumbers, cast into the limbo of back numbers. [footnote a: great play is made in strauss's _elektra_ with the "slippery blood" motive.] the campaign of lies goes on with immense energy in all neutral countries, for the kaiser is evidently of opinion that the pen is perhaps mightier than the sword. at home the great improvisation of the new armies, undertaken by lord kitchener in the teeth of much expert criticism, goes steadily on. lord kitchener asked for 500,000 men, and he has got them. on september 10 the house voted another half million. the open spaces in hyde park are given over to training; women are beginning to take the place of men. already the spirit of the new soldiers is growing akin to that of the regulars. one of mr. punch's brigade, who has begun to send his impressions of the mobilised territorials, sums it up very well when he says that, amateurs or professionals, they are all very much alike. "feed them like princes and pamper them like babies, and they'll complain all the time. but stand them up to be shot at and they'll take it as a joke, and rather a good joke, too." lord roberts maintains a dignified reticence, but that is "bobs' way": he knew, none better, how 'twould be, and spoke his warning far and wide: he worked to save us ceaselessly, setting his well-earned ease aside. we smiled and shrugged and went our way, blind to the swift approaching blow: his every word proves true to-day, but no man hears, "i told you so!" meanwhile general botha, boer and briton too, is on the war-path, and we can, without an undue stretch of imagination, picture him composing a telegram to the kaiser in these terms: "just off to repel another raid. your customary wire of congratulations should be addressed, 'british headquarters, german south-west africa.'" [illustration: god (and the women) our shield study of a german gentleman going into action] the rigours of the censorship are pressing hard on war correspondents. official news of importance trickles in in driblets: for the rest, newspaper men, miles from the front, are driven to eke out their dispatches with negligible trivialities. we know that rheims cathedral is suffering wanton bombardment. and a great many of us believe that at least a quarter of a million russians have passed through england on their way to france. the number of people who have seen them is large: that of those who have seen people who have seen them is enormous. [illustration: porter: "do i know if the rooshuns has really come to england? well, sir, if this don't prove it, i don't know what do. a train went through here full, and when it came back i knowed there'd been rooshuns in it, 'cause the cushions and floors was covered with snow."] we gather that the press bureau has no notion whether the rumour is true or not, and cannot think of any way of finding out. but it consents to its publication in the hope that it will frighten the kaiser. apropos of the russians we learn that they have won a pronounced victory (though not by us) at przemysl. motto for the month: _grattez le prusse et vous trouverez le barbare_. [illustration: unconquerable the kaiser: "so, you see--you've lost everything." the king of the belgians: "not my soul."] _october, 1914._ antwerp has fallen and the belgian government removed to havre. but the spirit of the king and his army is unshaken. unshaken, too, is the courage of burgomaster max of brussels, "who faced the german bullies with the stiffest of stiff backs." the kaiser has been foiled in his hope of witnessing the fall of nancy, the drive for the channel ports has begun at ypres, and german submarines have retorted to mr. churchill's threat to "dig out" the german fleet "like rats" by torpedoing three battleships. trench warfare is in full and deadly swing, but "thomas of the light heart" refuses to be downhearted: he takes to fighting as a game, he does no talking through his hat of holy missions: all the same he has his faith--be sure of that: he'll not disgrace his sporting breed nor play what isn't cricket. there's his creed. last month lord kitchener paid a high tribute to the growing efficiency of the "terriers" and their readiness to go anywhere. _punch's_ representative with the "watch dogs" fully bears out this praise. they have been inoculated and are ready to move on. some suggest india, others egypt. "but what tempted the majority was the thought of a season's shooting without having to pay for so much as a gun licence, and so we decided for the continent." news from the front continues scanty, and joffre's laconic _communiqués_ might in sum be versified as follows: on our left wing the state of things remains unaltered on a general review, our losses in the centre match our gains, and on our right wing there is nothing new. nor do we gain much enlightenment from the "eyewitness" with g.h.q., though his literary skill in elegantly describing the things that do not matter moves our admiration. [illustration: the bull-dog breed officer: "now, my lad, do you know what you are placed here for?" recruit: "to prevent the henemy from landin', sir." officer: "and do you think you could prevent him landing all by yourself?" recruit: "don't know, sir, i'm sure. but i'd have a damn good try!"] the kaiser's sons continue to distinguish themselves as first-class looters, and the ban laid on the english language, including very properly the word "gentleman," has been lifted in favour of wilhelm shakespeare. the prophets are no longer so optimistic in predicting when the war will end. one of mr. punch's young men suggests christmas, 1918. but 500 german prisoners have arrived at templemore, co. tipperary. it's a long, long way, but they've got there at last. _november, 1914_. the miracle of the marne has been followed by another miracle--that of ypres. outgunned and outnumbered, our thin line has stemmed the rush to the sea. the road to calais has been blocked like that to paris. heartening news comes from afar of the fall of tsing-tau before our redoubtable japanese allies, and with it the crumbling of germany's scheme of an oriental empire; of the british occupation of basra; and of the sinking of the _emden_, thanks to the "good hunting" of the _sydney_--the first fruits of australian aid. a new enemy has appeared in turkey, but her defection has its consolations. it is something to be rid of an "unspeakable" incubus full of promises of reform never fulfilled, "sick" but unrepentant, always turning european discord to bloody account at the expense of her subject nationalities: in all respects a fitting partner for her ally and master. at sea our pain at the loss of the _good hope_ and _monmouth_ off coronel is less than our pride in the spirit of the heroic cradock, true descendant of grenville and nelson, prompt to give battle against overwhelming odds. the soul of the "navy eternal" draws fresh strength from his example. so, too, does the army from the death of lord roberts, the "happy warrior," who passed away while visiting the western front. the best homage we can pay him is not grief or vain regret for counsel given in vain, but service of our lives to keep her free the land he served: a pledge above his grave to give her even such a gift as he, the soul of loyalty, gave. even the germans have paid reluctant tribute to one who, as bonar law said in the house, "was in real life all, and more than all, that colonel newcome was in fiction." he was the exemplar _in excelsis_ of those "bantams," "little and good," who, after being rejected for their diminutive stature, are now joining up under the new regulations: apparently he's just as small, but since his size no more impedes him in spirit he is six foot tall- because his country needs him. [illustration: the excursionist tripper wilhelm: "first class to paris." clerk: "line blocked." wilhelm: "then make it warsaw." clerk: "line blocked." wilhelm: "well, what about calais?" clerk: "line blocked." wilhelm: "hang it! i _must_ go _somewhere_! i promised my people i would."] we have begun to think in millions. the war is costing a million a day. the chancellor of the exchequer has launched a war loan of 230 millions and doubled our income tax. the prime minister asks for an addition of a million men to the regular army. but the country has not yet fully awakened to the realities of war. football clubs are concerned with the "jostling of the ordinary patrons" by men in uniform. "business as usual" is interpreted as "pleasure as usual" in some quarters. rumour is busy with stories of mysterious prisoners in the tower, with tales of huge guns which are to shell us from calais when the germans get there; with reports (from neutral sources) of the speedy advent of scores of zeppelins and hundreds of aeroplanes over london. but though old england's dark o' nights and short of 'buses: still she's much the sort of place we always used to know. [illustration: t.b.d. officer's steward: "will you take your bath, sir, before or after haction?"] it is otherwise with belgium, with its shattered homes and wrecked towns. the great russian legend is still going strong, in spite of the statements of the under-secretary for war, and, after all, why should the germans do all the story telling? by the way, a "german truth society" has been founded. it is pleasant to know that it is realised over there at last that there is a difference between truth and german truth. the british navy, we learn from the _kölnische zeitung_, "is in hiding." but our fragrant contemporary need not worry. in due course the germans shall have the hiding. in some ways the unchanged spirit of our people is rather disconcerting. one of mr. punch's young men, happening to meet a music-hall acquaintance, asked him how he thought the war was going, and met with the answer: "oh, i think the managers will have to give in." and the proposal to change the name of berlin road at lewisham has been rejected by the residents. _december, 1914_. in less than six weeks coronel has been avenged at the battle of the falkland islands: hardened steel are our ships; gallant tars are our men; we never are wordy (sturdee, boys, sturdee!), but quietly conquer again and again. here at least we can salute the vanquished. admiral von spee, who went down with his doomed squadron, was a gallant and chivalrous antagonist, like captain müller, of the _emden_. germany's retort, eight days later, by bombarding scarborough and whitby, reveals the normal hun: come where you will--the seas are wide; and choose your day--they're all alike; you'll find us ready when we ride in calm or storm and wait to strike; but--if of shame your shameless huns can yet retrieve some casual traces- please fight our men and ships and guns, not womenfolk and watering places. austria's "punitive expedition" has ended in disaster for the austrians. they entered belgrade on the 2nd, and were driven out twelve days later by the serbs. king george has paid his first visit to the front, and made general foch a g.c.b. we know that the general is a great authority on strategy, and that his name, correctly pronounced, rhymes with boche, as hero with nero. he is evidently a man likely to be heard of again. another hitherto unfamiliar name that has cropped up is that of herr lissauer, who, for writing a "hymn of hate" against england, has been decorated by the kaiser. this shows true magnanimity on the part of the kaiser, in his capacity of king of prussia, since the "hymn of hate" turns out to be a close adaptation of a poem composed by a saxon patriot, in which prussia, not england, was held up to execration. kitchener's great improvisation is already bearing fruit, and the new armies are flocking to the support of the old. indian troops are fighting gallantly in three continents. king albert "the unconquerable," in the narrow strip of his country that still belongs to him, waits in unshaken faith for the coming of the dawn. and as christmas draws on the thoughts of officers and men in the waterlogged trenches turn fondly homeward to mothers, wives and sweethearts: cheer up! i'm calling far away; and wireless you can hear. cheer up! you know you'd have me stay and keep on trying day by day; we're winning, never fear. christmas at least brings the children's truce, and that is something to be thankful for, but it is not the christmas that we knew and long for: on earth--peace no stir of wings sweeps softly by; no angel comes with blinding light; beneath the wild and wintry sky no shepherds watch their flocks to-night. in the dull thunder of the wind we hear the cruel guns afar, but in the glowering heavens we find no guiding, solitary star. but lo! on this our lord's birthday, lit by the glory whence she came, peace, like a warrior, stands at bay, a swift, defiant, living flame! full-armed she stands in shining mail, erect, serene, unfaltering still, shod with a strength that cannot fail, strong with a fierce o'ermastering will. where shattered homes and ruins be she fights through dark and desperate days; beside the watchers on the sea she guards the channel's narrow ways. through iron hail and shattering shell, where the dull earth is stained with red, fearless she fronts the gates of hell and shields the unforgotten dead. so stands she, with her all at stake, and battles for her own dear life, that by one victory she may make for evermore an end of strife. [illustration: the children's peace peace: "i'm glad that they, at least, have their christmas unspoiled."] yet we have our minor war gains in the temporary disappearance of cranks and faddists, some of whom have sunk without a ripple. and though the press censor's suppressions and delays and inconsistencies provoke discontent in the house and out of it, food for mirth turns up constantly in unexpected quarters. the crown prince tells an american interviewer that there is no war party in germany, nor has there ever been. the german general staff have begun to disguise set-backs under the convenient euphemism that the situation has developed "according to expectation." an english village worthy, discussing the prospects of invasion, comes to the reassuring conclusion that "there can't be no battle in these parts, jarge, for there bain't no field suitable, as you may say; an' squire, 'e won't lend 'em the use of 'is park." the troubles of neutrality are neatly summed up in a paper in a recent geography examination. "holland is a low country, in fact it is such a very low country that it is no wonder that it is dammed all round." the trials of mistresses on the home front are happily described in the reply of a child to a small visitor who inquired after her mother. "thank you, poor mummie's a bit below herself this morning--what with the cook and the kaiser." [illustration: pompous lady: "i shall descend at knightsbridge." tommy (aside): "takes 'erself for a bloomin' zeppelin!"] we have to thank an ingenious correspondent for drawing up the following "credibility index" for the guidance of perplexed newspaper readers: london, paris, or petrograd (official) 100 " " " (semi-official) 50 berlin (official) 25 it is believed in military circles here that- 24 a correspondent that has just returned from the firing-line tells me that- 18 our correspondent at rome announces that- 11 berlin (unofficial) 10 i learn from a neutral merchant that- 7 a story is current in venice to the effect that- 5 it is rumoured that- 4 i have heard to-day from a reliable source that- 3 i learn on unassailable authority that- 2 it is rumoured in rotterdam that- 1 wolff's bureau states that- 0 _january, 1915_. general von kluck "never got round on the right." calais is calais still, and the kaiser, if he still wishes to give it a new name, may call it the "never, never land." "general janvier" is doing his worst, but our men are sticking it out through slush and slime. as for the christmas truce and fraternisation, the british officer who ended a situation that was proving impossible by presenting a dingy saxon with a copy of _punch_ in exchange for a packet of cigarettes, acted with a wise candour: for there he found, our dingy friend, amid the trench's sobering slosh, what must have left him, by the end, a wiser, if a sadder, boche, seeing himself, with chastened mien, in that pellucid well of truth serene. there can be no "fraternising" with fritz until he realises that he has been fooled by his war lords; and his awakening is a long way off. lord kitchener has been charged with being "very economical in his information" vouchsafed to the lords, but it is well to be rid of illusions. this has not been a month of great events. general joffre is content with this ceaseless "nibbling." the kaiser, nourished by the flattery of his tame professors, encourages the war on non-combatants. the turks are beginning to show a gift for euphemism in disguising their reverses in the caucasus, which shows that they have nothing to learn from their masters; austria, badly mauled by the serbians, addresses awful threats to roumania; and the united states has issued a warning note on neutral trading. but the american eagle is not the eagle that we are up against. [illustration: the flight that failed the emperor: "what! no babes, sirrah?" the murderer: "alas, sire, none." the emperor: "well, then, no babes, no iron crosses." (_exit murderer, discouraged_.)] the number of mr. punch's correspondents on active service steadily grows. some of them are at the western front; others are still straining at the leash at home; another of the _punch_ brigade, with the very first battalion of territorials to land in india, has begun to send his impressions of the shiny land; of friendly natives and unfriendly ants; of the disappointment of being relegated to clerical duties instead of going to the front; of the evaporation of visions of military glory in the routine of typing, telephoning and telegraphing; of leisurely oriental methods. being a soldier clerk in india is very different from being a civilian clerk in england. patience, good territorials in india, your time will come. [illustration: the shirkers' war news "there! what did i tell you? northdown lambs beaten--two to nothing."] at home, though the "knut" has been commandeered and nobly transmogrified, though women are increasingly occupied in war work and entering with devotion and self-sacrifice on their new duties as substitutes for men, we have not yet been wholly purged of levity and selfishness. football news has not receded into its true perspective; shirkers are more pre-occupied with the defeat or victory of "lambs" or "wolves" in lancashire than with the stubborn defence, the infinite discomfort and the heavy losses of their brothers in flanders. overdressed fashionables pester wounded officers and men with their unreasonable visits and futile queries. the enemies in our midst are not all aliens; there are not a few natives we should like to see interned. the kaiser has had his first war birthday and, as the prussian government has ordered that there shall be no public celebrations, this confirms the rumours that he now wishes he had never been born. germany, says the _cologne gazette_ in an article on the food question, "has still at hand a very large supply of pigs"--even after the enormous number she has exported to belgium. germany, however, does not only export pigs; her trade in "canards" with neutrals grows and grows, chiefly with the united states, thanks to the untiring mendacity of bernstorff and wolff. compared with these efforts, the revelations of english governesses at german courts, which are now finding their way into print, make but a poor show. as the british armies increase, the moustache of the british officer, one of the most astonishing products of these astonishing times, grows "small by degrees and beautifully less." waxed ends, fashionable in a previous generation, are now only worn by policemen, taxi-drivers and labour leaders. the kaiser remains faithful to the mephistophelean form. but in proof of his desire to make the best of both worlds, nether and celestial, he continues to commandeer "gott" on every occasion as his second in command. out-heroding herod as a murderer of innocents, he enters into a competition of piety with his grandfather. for we should not forget that the first german emperor's messages to his wife in the franco-prussian war were once summed up by mr. punch: ten thousand french have gone below; praise god from whom all blessings flow. _february, 1915_. january ended with a knock for the germans off the dogger bank, when the _blücher_ was sunk by our battle-cruiser squadron: they say the _lion_ and the _tiger_ sweep where once the huns shelled babies from the deep, and _blücher_, that great cruiser--12-inch guns roar o'er his head, but cannot break his sleep. and now it is the turn of "johnny turk," who has had _his_ knock on the suez canal, and failed to solve the _riddle of the sands_ under german guidance. having safely locked up his high seas fleet in the kiel canal, the kaiser has ordered the u-boat blockade of england to begin by the torpedoing of neutral as well as enemy merchant ships. you may know a man by the company he keeps, and the kaiser's friends are now the jolly roger and sir roger casement. valentine's day has come and gone. here are some lines from a damp but undefeated lover in the trenches: though the glittering knight whose charger bore him on his lady's quest with an infinitely larger share of warfare's pomp was blest, yet he offered love no higher, no more difficult to quench, than the filthy occupier of this unromantic trench. [illustration: running amok german bull: "i know i'm making a rotten exhibition of myself; but i shall tell everybody i was goaded into it."] the fusion of classes in the camps of the new armies outdoes the mixture of "cook's son and duke's son" fifteen years ago. the old universities are now given up to a handful of coloured students, rhodes' scholars and reluctant crocks. as a set-off, however, a swansea clergyman and football enthusiast has held a "thanksgiving service for their good fortune against newcastle united." meanwhile, the under-secretary for war has stated that the army costs more in a week than the total estimates for the waterloo campaign, and that our casualties on the western front alone have amounted to over 100,000. so what with submarine losses, ubiquitous german spies, the german propaganda in america, and complaints of government inactivity, the pessimists are having a fine time. tommy grouses of course, but then he complains far more of the loss of a packet of cigarettes or a tin of peppermints or a mouth-organ than of the loss of a limb. germany's attitude towards the united states tempers the blandishments of the serenader with the occasional discharge of half-bricks. there is no such inconsistency in the expression of her feelings about england. articles entitled "_unser hass gegen england_" constantly appear in the german press, and people are beginning to wonder whether the _hass_ is not the kaiser. apropos of newspapers, we are beginning to harbour a certain envy of the americans. even their provincial organs often contain important and cheering news of the doings of the british army many days before the censor releases the information in england. daylight saving is again being talked of, and it would surely be an enormous boon to rush the measure through now so that the germans may have less darkness of which to take advantage. and there is a general and reasonable feeling that more use should be made of bands for recruiting. the ways of german musicians are perplexing. here is the amiable herr humperdinck, composer of "hänsel and gretel," the very embodiment of the old german kindliness, signing the manifesto of patriotic artists and professors who execrate england, while strauss, the truculent "mad mullah" of the art, holds aloof. dr. hans richter, who enjoyed english hospitality so long, now clamours for our extinction; it is even said that he has asked to be allowed to conduct a _parsifal_ airship to this country. [illustration: study of a prussian household having its morning hate] _march, 1915._ a new and possibly momentous chapter has opened in the history of the war by the attempt to force the dardanelles. at the end of february the allied fleet bombarded the forts at the entrance, and landed a party of bluejackets. since then these naval operations have been resumed, and our new crack battleship _queen elizabeth_ has joined in the attack. we have not got through the narrows, and some sceptical critics are asking what we should do if we got through to constantinople, without a land force. it is a great scheme, if it comes off; and the "only begetter" of it, if report is true, is mr. winston churchill, the strategist of the antwerp expedition, who now aspires to be the dardanelson of our age. anyhow, the sultan, lured on by the imperial william o' the wisp, is already capable of envying even his predecessor: abdul! i would that i had shared your plight, or europe seen my heels, before the hour when allah bound me tight to william's chariot-wheels! germany, always generous with other people's property, has begun to hint to italy possibilities of compensation in the shape of certain portions of austro-hungarian territory. she has also declared that she is "fighting for the independence of the small nations," including, of course, belgium. in further evidence of her humanity she has taken to spraying our soldiers in the west with flaming petrol and squirting boiling pitch over our russian allies. it is positively a desecration of the word devil to apply it to the germans whether on land, on or under water, or in the air. we have begun to "push" on the western front, and neuve chapelle has been captured, after a fierce battle and at terrible cost. air raids are becoming common in east anglia and u-boats unpleasantly active in the north sea. let us take off our hats to the mine-sweepers and trawlers, the new and splendid auxiliaries of the royal navy. grimsby is indeed a "name to resound for ages" for what its fishermen have done and are doing in the war against mine and submarine: soles in the silver pit--an' there we'll let 'em lie; cod on the dogger--oh, we'll fetch 'em by an' by; war on the water--an' it's time to serve an' die, for there's wild work doin' on the north sea ground. an' it's "wake up, johnnie!" they want you at the trawlin' (with your long sea-boots and your tarry old tarpaulin); all across the bitter seas duty comes a-callin' in the winter's weather off the north sea ground. it's well we've learned to laugh at fear--the sea has taught us how; it's well we've shaken hands with death--we'll not be strangers now, with death in every climbin' wave before the trawler's bow, an' the black spawn swimmin' on the north sea ground. [illustration: william o' the wisp] these brave men and their heroic brothers in the trenches are true sportsmen as well as patriots, not those who interpret the need of lightheartedness by the cult of "sport as usual" on the football field and the racecourse. and the example of the universities shines with the same splendour. of the scanty remnant that remain at oxford and cambridge all the physically fit have joined the o.t.c. boat-race day has passed, but the crews are gone to "keep it long" and "pull it through" elsewhere: not here their hour of great emprise; no mounting cheer towards mortlake roars; lulled to full tide the river lies unfretted by the fighting oars; the long high toil of strenuous play serves england elsewhere well to-day. london changes daily. the sight of the female jehu is becoming familiar; the lake in st. james's park has been drained and the water-fowl driven to form a concentration camp by the sorry pool that remains beside the whitehall gate. spy-hunting is prevalent in east anglia, but the amateurs have not achieved any convincing results. spring poets are suffering from suspended animation; there is a slump in crocuses, snowdrops, daffodils and lambkins. their "musings always turn away to men who're arming for the fray." the clarion and the fife have ousted the pastoral ode. and our military and naval experts, harassed by the censor, take refuge in psychology. the _kölnische zeitung_ has published a whole article on "mr. punch." the writer, a herr professor, finds our cartoons lacking in "modest refinement." indeed, he goes so far as to say that the treatment of the kaiser savours of blasphemy. one is so apt to forget that the kaiser is a divinity, so prone to remember that luther wrote, "we germans are germans, and germans we will remain--that is to say, pigs and brutish animals." this was written in 1528: but "the example of the middle ages" is held up to-day by german leaders as the true fount of inspiration. [illustration: the war spirit at the british museum ardent egyptologist (who has lately joined the civic guard): "no, i seem to have lost my enthusiasm for this group since i noticed bes-hathor-horus was out of step with the other two."] _april_, 1915. a hundred years ago bismarck was born on april 1, the man who built with blood and iron, but now only the blood remains. yet one may doubt whether even that strong and ruthless pilot would have commended the submarine crew who sank the liner _falaba_ and laughed at the cries and struggles of drowning men and women. sooner or later these crews are doomed to die the death of rats: but you, who sent them out to do this shame; from whom they take their orders and their pay; for you--avenging wrath defers its claim, and justice bides her day. the tide of "frightfulness" rolls strong on land as on sea. the second battle of ypres has begun and the enemy has resorted to the use of a new weapon--poison gas. he had already poisoned wells in south west africa, but this is an uglier outcome of the harnessing of science to the powers of darkness. italy grows restive in spite of the blandishments of prince bülow, and as the month closes we hear of the landing of the allies in gallipoli, just two months after the unsupported naval attempt to force the dardanelles. british and australian and new zealand troops have achieved the impossible by incredible valour in face of murderous fire, and a foothold has been won at tremendous cost of heroic lives. letters from the western front continue cheerful, but it does not need much reading between the lines to realise the odds with which our officers and men have to contend, the endless discomfort and unending din. they are masters of a gallant art of metaphor which belittles the most appalling horrors of trench warfare; masters, too, of the art of extracting humorous relief from the most trivial incidents. on the home front we have to contend with a dangerous ally of the enemy in drink, and with the self-advertising politicians who do their bit by asking unnecessary questions. sometimes, but rarely, they succeed in eliciting valuable information, as in mr. lloyd george's statement on the situation at the front. we have now six times as many men in the field as formed the original expeditionary force, and in the few days fighting round neuve chapelle almost as much ammunition was expended by our guns as in the whole of the two and three-quarter years of the boer war. [illustration: the haunted ship ghost of the old pilot: "i wonder if he would drop me _now!_"] the kaiser has been presented with another grandson, but it has not been broken to the poor little fellow who he is. it is also reported that the kaiser has bestowed an iron cross on a learned pig--one of a very numerous class. _may, 1915_. we often think that we must have got to the end of german "frightfulness," only to have our illusions promptly shattered by some fresh and amazing explosion of calculated ferocity. last month it was poison gas; now it is the sinking of the _lusitania_. yet mr. punch had read the omens some seven and a half years ago, when the records established by that liner had created a jealousy in germany which the kaiser and his agents have now appeased, but at what a cost! the house of commons is an odd place, unique in its characteristics. looking round the benches when it reassembled on may 10th, and noting the tone and purport of the inquiries addressed to the first lord, one might well suppose that nothing remarkable had happened since parliament adjourned. the questions were numerous but all practical, and as unemotional as if they referred to outrages by a newly-discovered race of fiends in human shape peopling mars or saturn. the first lord, equally undemonstrative, announced that the board of trade have ordered an inquiry into the circumstances attending the disaster. pending the result, it would be premature to discuss the matter. here we have the sublimation of officialism and national phlegm. of the 1,200 victims who went down in this unarmed passenger ship about 200 were americans. what will america say or do? [illustration: an omen of 1908 reproduced from "christmas cards for celebrities," in _mr. punch's almanack_ of that year] [illustration: hamlet u.s.a. scene: the ramparts of the white house. president wilson: "the time is out of joint, o cursed spite, that ever i was born to set it right!" voice of roosevelt (_off_): "that's so!"] in silence you have looked on felon blows, on butcher's work of which the waste lands reek! now in god's name, from whom your greatness flows, sister, will you not speak? many unofficial voices have been raised in horror, indignation, and even in loud calls for intervention. the leaven works, but president wilson, though not unmoved, gives little sign of abandoning his philosophic neutrality. in europe it is otherwise. italy has declared war on austria; her people have driven the government to take the path of freedom and honour and break the shackles of germanism in finance, commerce and politics. italy has not declared war on germany yet, but the fury of the german press is unbounded, and for the moment germany's overworked professors of hate have focused their energies on the new enemy, and its army of "vagabonds, convicts, ruffians and mandolin-players," conveniently forgetting that the spirit of garibaldi is still an animating force, and that the king inherits the determination of his grandfather and namesake. on the western front the enemy has been repulsed at ypres. lord kitchener has asked for another 300,000 men, and speaks confidently of our soon being able to make good the shortage of ammunition. on the eastern front the grand duke nicholas has been forced to give ground; in gallipoli slow progress is being made at heavy cost on land and sea. the turk is a redoubtable trench fighter and sniper; the difficulties of the _terrain_ are indescribable, yet our men continue the epic struggle with unabated heroism. king constantine of greece, improved in health, construes his neutrality in terms of ever increasing benevolence to his brother-in-law the kaiser. [illustration: (series of six panels) the reward of kultur] at home the great event has been the formation of a coalition government--a two-handed sword, as we hope, to smite the enemy; while practical people regard it rather as a "coal and ammunition government." the cost of the war is now two millions a day, and a new campaign of posters and publicity has been inaugurated to promote recruiting. volunteers, with scant official recognition, continue their training on foot; the hurst park brigade continue their activities, mainly on rubber wheels. an evening paper announces: victory in gallipoli. late wire from chester. mr. punch is prompted to comment: for these our army does its bit, while they in turn peruse death's honour-roll (should time permit) after the betting news. more agreeable is the sportsmanship of the trenches, where a correspondent tells of the shooting of a hare and the recovery of the corpse, by a reckless tommy, from the turnip-field which separated our trenches from those of fritz. amongst other signs of the times the emergence of the spy play is to be noted, in which the alien enemy within our gates is gloriously confounded. yet, if a certain section of the press is to be believed, the dark and sinister operations of the hidden hand continue unchecked. the germans as unconscious humorists maintain their supremacy _hors concours_. a correspondent of the _cologne gazette_ was with other journalists recently entertained to dinner in a french villa by the crown prince rupprecht of bavaria. "the party, while dining," we are told, "talked of the defects of french taste, and prince rupprecht said that french houses were full of horrors." true, o prince, but the french are determined to drive them out. better still, in the month which witnessed the sinking of the _lusitania_ we read this panegyric of the teuton in _die welt_: "clad in virtue and in peerless nobility of character, unassailed by insidious enemies either within or without, girded about by the benign influences of kultur, the german, whether soldier or civilian, pursues his destined way, fearless and serene." _june, 1915._ the weeks that have passed since the sinking of the _lusitania_ have left germany not merely impenitent but glorying in her crime. "the destruction of the _lusitania_," says herr baumgarten, professor of theology, "should be greeted with jubilation and enthusiastic cheering, and everybody who does not cheer is no real or true german." many harsh things have been said of the germans, but nothing quite so bitter as this suggestion for a test of nationality. but while germany jubilates, her government is painfully anxious to explain everything to the satisfaction of america. the conversations between the two powers are continuous but abortive. president wilson's dove has returned to him, with the report "nothing doing," and the american eagle looks as if he would like to take on the job. germany has had her first taste of real retaliation in the bombardment of karlsruhe by allied airmen, and is furiously indignant at the attack on an "unfortified and peaceful" town--which happens to be the headquarters of the 14th german army corps and to contain an important arsenal as well as large chemical, engineering and railway works. also she is very angry with mr. punch, and has honoured him and other british papers with a solemn warning. our performances, it seems, are "diligently noted, so that when the day of reckoning arrives we shall know with whom we have to deal, and how to deal with them effectually." it is evident that in spite of italy's entry into the war the mass of the germans are still true to their old hate of england. [illustration: on the black list kaiser (as executioner): "i'm going to hang you." punch: "oh, you are, are you? well, you don't seem to know how the scene ends. it's the hangman that gets hanged."] [illustration: some bird the returning dove (to president woodrow noah): "nothing doing." the eagle: "say, boss, what's the matter with trying me?"] but germany does not merely talk. she has been indulging in drastic reprisals in consequence of mr. winston churchill's memorandum on the captured submarine crews. as a result 39 imprisoned british officers, carefully selected, have been subjected to solitary confinement under distressing conditions in return for mr. churchill's having hinted at possible severities which were never carried out. moral: do not threaten unless you mean to act. the retirement of mr. churchill to the seclusion of the duchy of lancaster and the appointment of mr. balfour to the first lordship of the admiralty afford hope that the release of the thirty-nine from their special hardship will not be unduly postponed. the coalition government is shaking down. a ministry of munitions has been created, with mr. lloyd george in charge; and members of the cabinet have decided to pool their salaries with a view to their being divided equally. mr. mckenna has made his first appearance as chancellor of the exchequer and introduced a bill authorising the raising of a war loan unlimited in extent, but, being a man of moderate views, will be satisfied if nine hundred millions are forthcoming. lord haldane has been succeeded in the lord chancellorship by lord buckmaster, having caused by one unfortunate phrase a complete oblivion of all the services rendered by his creation of the territorial system. the cry for "more men" has now changed to one for "more shells," and certain newspapers, always in search of a scapegoat, have entered on a campaign directed against lord kitchener, the very man whom a few short months ago they hailed as the saviour of the situation. finding that the public cannot live on their hot air, they are doing their best to make our flesh creep and keep our feet cold. let us hope that k. of k. will find the garter some slight protection against this hitting below the belt. the russian retreat continues, but there is no _débâcle._ greece shows signs of returning sanity in the restoration to power of her one strong man, m. venizelos. if there were a few more like him then (to adapt porson) "the germanised greek would be sadly to seek." as it is, he flourishes exceedingly, under the patronage of a prussianised court. in gallipoli the deadly struggle goes on; our foothold has been strengthened by bitter fighting and our lines pushed forward for three miles by a few hundred yards--a big advance in modern trench warfare. blazing heat and a plague of flies add to the discomforts of our men, but a new glory has been added to the ever growing vocabulary of the war in "anzac." there is a lull on the western front, if such a word properly can be applied to the ceaseless activities of the war of position, of daily _strafe_ and counter-_strafe_. at home, khaki weddings are becoming common form. by an inversion of the old order the bride is now eclipsed by the bridegroom: 'tis well: the lack of fine array best fits a sacrificial altar; her man to-morrow joins the fray, and yet she does not falter; simple her gown, but still we see the bride in all her bravery. society is losing much of its snap through the political truce. it is all very well to talk of the lion lying down with the lamb, but of course it makes life a distinctly duller business both for the lion and the lamb when each has lost his or her dearest enemy. for the rest, there is a brisk trade in anti-gas respirators, "lonely soldiers" are becoming victimised by fair correspondents, and a new day has been added to the week--flag day. proverb for the month, suggested by the activities of the imperial infanticide: "the hand that wrecks the cradle rules the world." _july, 1915_. the last month of the first year of the war brings no promise of a speedy end; it is not a month of great battles on land or sea, but rather of omens and foreshadowings, good and evil. to the omens of victory belongs the sinking of the _pommern_, named after the great maritime province, so long coveted by the brandenburgers, the makers of prussia and the true begetters of prussianism. of good omen, too, has been the "clean sweep" made by general botha in german south-west africa, where the enemy surrendered unconditionally on july 9. and though the menace of the u-boat grows daily, there _may_ be limits to america's seemingly inexhaustible forbearance. there are happily none to the fortitude of our bluejackets and trawlers. pundits in the press, fortified by warnings from generals in various home commands, display an increasing preoccupation with the likelihood of invasion by sea. mr. punch naturally inclines to a sceptical attitude, swayed by long adherence to the views of the blue water school and the incredulousness of correspondents engaged in guarding likely spots on the east coast. with runaway raids by sea we are already acquainted, and their growing frequency from the air is responsible for various suggested precautions, official and otherwise--pails of sand and masks and anti-asphyxiation mixtures--which are not viewed with much sympathy in the trenches. _there_ the men meet the most disconcerting situations--as, for example, the problem of spending a night in a flooded meadow occupied by a thunderstorm--with irrelevant songs or fantasias on the mouth-organ. [illustration: first trawler skipper (to friend who is due to sail by next tide): "are ye takin' any precautions against these submarines, jock?" second skipper: "ay! although i've been in the habit o' carryin' my bits of bawbees wi' me, i went an' bankit them this mornin', an' i'm no taking ma best oilskins or ma new seaboots." first skipper; "oh, _you're_ a'richt then. ye'll hae practically nothin' tae lose but yer life."] oh, there ain't no band to cheer us up, there ain't no highland pipers to keep our warlike ardure warm round new chapelle and wipers, so--since there's nothing like a tune to glad the 'eart o' man, why billy with his mouth-organ 'e does the best 'e can. wet, 'ungry, thirsty, 'ot or cold, whatever may betide 'im, 'e'll play upon the 'ob of 'ell while the breath is left inside 'im; and when we march up potsdam street, and goose-step through berlin, why billy with 'is mouth-organ 'e'll play the army in! [illustration: the old man of the sea sinbad the kaiser: "this submarine business is going to get me into trouble with america; but what can an all-powerful do with a thing like this on his back?"] when officers come home on leave and find england standing where she did, their views support the weather-beaten major who said that it was "worth going to a little trouble and expense to keep _that_ intact." but you can hardly expect people who live in trenches which have had to be rebuilt twice daily for the last few months and are shelled at all hours of the day or night, to compassionate the occasional trials of the home-keeping bomb-dodger. the war, as it goes on, seems to bring out the best and the worst that is in us. south wales responded loyally to the call for recruits, yet 200,000 miners are affected by the strike fever. the house, where party strife for a brief space was hushed by mutual consent, is now devastated by the energies of indiscreet, importunate, egotistic or frankly disloyal question-mongers. we want a censorship of parliamentary reports. the press bureau withholds records of shining courage at the front lest they should enlighten the enemy, but gives full publicity to those who give us words in lieu of deeds, content to blather while their country bleeds. there is, however, some excuse for those importunates who wish to know on what authority the premier declared at newcastle that neither our allies nor ourselves have been hampered by an insufficient supply of munitions. in two months' fighting in gallipoli our casualties have largely exceeded those sustained by us during the whole of the boer war. and financial purists may be pardoned for their protests against extravagant expenditure in view of the announcement that the war is now costing well over three millions daily. the idea of national registration has taken shape in a bill, which has passed its second reading. the notion of finding out what everyone can do to help his country in her hour of need is excellent. but the government do not seem to have realised that half a million volunteer soldiers have been waiting and ready for a job for the last six months: and when at last you come and say "what can you do? we ask for light on any service you can pay," the answer is: "_you_ know all right, and all this weary while you knew it; the trouble was you wouldn't let us do it." the german press is not exactly the place where one expects to find occasion for merriment. yet listen to this from the _neueste nachrichten_: "our foes ask themselves continuously, how can we best get at germany's vital parts? what are her most vulnerable points? the answer is, her humanity--her trustful honesty." here, on the other hand, thousands of people, by knocking months and years off their real age, have been telling good straightforward lies for their country. at the front euphemism in describing hardship is mingled with circumlocution in official terminology. thus one c.o. is reported to refer to the enemy not as germans but "militant bodies of composite teutonic origin." a new and effectual cure for the conversion of pessimists at home has been discovered. it is simply to out-do the prophets of ill at their own game. the result is that they seek you out to tell you that an enemy submarine has been sunk off the scillies or that the crown prince is in the tower. it is the old story that optimists are those who have been associating with pessimists and _vice versâ_. but seriousness is spreading. we are told that even actresses are now being photographed with their mouths shut, though one would have thought that at such a time all british subjects--especially the "odolisques" of the variety stage--ought to show their teeth. _august_, 1915. ordinary anniversaries lead to retrospect: after a year of the greatest of all wars it is natural to indulge in a stock-taking of the national spirit, and comforting to find that, in spite of disillusions and disappointments, the alternation of exultations and agonies, the soul of the fighting men of england remains unshaken and unconquerable. three of the great powers of europe espoused the cause of liberty a year ago; now there are four, and the aid of italy in engaging and detaching large austrian forces enables us to contemplate with greater equanimity a month of continuous russian withdrawal, and the tragic loss of warsaw and the great fortresses of novo-georgievsk and brest-litovsk. and if there is no outward sign of the awakening of germany, no slackening in frightfulness, no abatement in the blasphemous and overweening confidence of her ruler and his war-lords who can tell whether they have not moments of self-distrust? * * * * * the wayside calvary. august 4th, 1915. now with the full year memory holds her tryst, heavy with such a tale of bitter loss as never earth has suffered since the christ hung for us on the cross. if god, o kaiser, makes the vision plain; gives you on some lone calvary to see the man of sorrows who endured the pain and died to set us free- how will you face beneath its crown of thorn that figure stark against the smoking skies, the arms outstretched, the sacred head forlorn, and those reproachful eyes? how dare confront the false quest with the true, or think what gulfs between the ideals lie of him who died that men may live--and you who live that man may die? ah, turn your eyes away; he reads your heart; pass on and, having done your work abhorred, join hands with judas in his place apart, you who betrayed your lord. * * * * * it is the way of modern war that we know little of what is going on, least of all on sea. some of our sailormen have had their chance in the heligoland bight, off the dogger bank and falkland isles, and in the dardanelles. it is well that we should remember what we owe to the patient vigil of their less fortunate comrades, the officers and men of the grand fleet, and to the indefatigable and ubiquitous activities of the ships officially classified as "light cruisers (old)": [illustration: after one year] from pole unto pole, all the oceans between, patrolling, protecting, unwearied, unseen, by night or by noonday, the navy is there, and the out-of-date cruisers are doing their share, the creaky old cruisers whose day is not done, built some time before nineteen-hundred-and-one. at any rate, we know for certain that british submarines have made their way into the baltic, a "sea change" extremely disquieting to the germans, who, for the rest, have suffered in a naval scrap in the gulf of riga with the russians. on the western front our troops are suffering from two plagues--large shells and little flies. these troubles have not prevented them from scoring a small though costly success at hooge. from gallipoli comes the news of fresh deeds of amazing heroism at suvla bay and anzac. the war of notes goes on with unabated energy between germany and the u.s.a. at home a brief period has been set to the pernicious activities of importunate inquisitors by the adjournment of the house till mid-september. "dr. punch" is of opinion that the mother of parliaments is sorely in need of a rest and needs every hour of a seven weeks' holiday. in the thrift campaign, which has now set in, everybody expects that everybody else should do his duty; and the universal eruption of posters imploring us to subscribe to the war loan indicates the emergence of a new art--that of government by advertisement. to the obvious appeals to duty, patriotism, conscience, appeals to shame, appeals romantic and even facetious are now added. it may be necessary, but the method is not dignified. all that can be said is that "govertisement," or government by advertisement, is better than government by the press, a new terror with which we are daily threatened. mr. winston churchill, the greatest of our quick-change political artists, is said to be devoting his leisure to landscape painting. the particular school that he favours is not publicly stated, but we have reason to believe that he intends to be a leader. the archbishop of cologne says that, on being congratulated on his eastern successes, the kaiser "turned his eyes to heaven with the most indescribable expression of intense gratitude and religious fervour." yes, we can quite imagine that it beggared description. but there is no difficulty in finding the right phrase for his address to the inhabitants of warsaw: "we wage war only against hostile troops, not against peaceful citizens." it is not "_splendide mendax_." that is the due of boys who overstate, and men who understate, their age in order to serve their country in the field. [illustration: officer (to boy of thirteen who, in his effort to get taken on as a bugler, has given his age as sixteen): "do you know where boys go who tell lies?" applicant: "to the front, sir."] a correspondent reminds mr. punch that four years ago he wrote as follows: "lord haldane, in defending the territorials, declared that he expects to be dead before any political party seriously suggests compulsory military service. we understand that, since making this statement, our war minister has received a number of telegrams from germany wishing him long life." but we suspect that when he said dead he meant politically dead. still, we owe lord haldane the territorials, and they are doing great work in europe and most valuable, if thankless, work in india. as "one of the _punch_ brigade" writes: "the hearts of very few of the territorials now garrisoning india are in their work, though, of course, we know that actually it is essential duty we are performing." "they also serve," who patiently endure the dull routine of existence largely spent in a stifling fort on the blistering and dust-swept plains, and find relief in the smallest incident that breaks the monotony. as, for example, when a quartermaster-sergeant was held up by a native guard at a bridge, and, on demanding an explanation, had his attention directed to the notices on the wall, "elephants and traction engines are not allowed to cross this bridge." _september, 1915_. the tsar has succeeded the grand nicholas as generalissimo of his armies, and the great russian retreat has ended. yet it would be rash to say that the one event has caused the other. lord kitchener's statement that on the eastern front the germans had "almost shot their last bolt" is a better summary, and when we reflect on their enormous superiority in artillery and equipment, that is a great tribute to the strategy of the grand duke in conducting the most difficult retreat of modern times. germany, though a mistress of the entire alphabet of frightfulness, is making increasing play with the _u_'s and _z_'s, and admiral percy scott, who predicted the dangers of the former, is now entrusted with the task of coping with the latter menace. five months have elapsed since the sinking of the _lusitania_ and the pro-german campaign in the united states is more active than ever, thanks to the untiring efforts of count bernstorff and his worthy ally, dr. dumba, in promoting strikes and _sabotage_; but president wilson, "le grand penseur," declines to be rushed by the interventionists, and is giving his detached consideration to the "concessions" of the german government in regard to submarine warfare. but three thousand miles of ocean no longer keep america free from strife. the enemy is within her gates, plotting, spying and bribing. the lesser neutrals in europe find it harder to dissemble their sympathies, but ferdinand of bulgaria maintains a vulpine inscrutability. [illustration: the unsinkable tirp german chancellor: "well, thank heaven, that's the last of tirpitz." tirpitz (reappearing): "i don't think!"] by way of a sidelight on what happens on the western front, a wounded officer sends a characteristic account of his experiences after "going over the top" at 3 a.m. "the first remark, as distinct from a shout that i heard after leaving our parapet, came from private henry, my most notorious malefactor. as the first attempt at a wire entanglement in our new position went heavenward ten seconds after its emplacement, and a big tree just to our right collapsed suddenly like a dying pig, he turned round with a grin, observing: 'well, sir, we _do_ see a bit of life, if we _don't_ make money.' i never saw a man all day who hadn't a grin ready when you passed, and a bit of a _riposte_ if you passed the time of day with him." our officers only think of their men, and the men of their officers. in gallipoli our soldiers have discovered a new method of annoying the turk: we go and bathe, in shameless scores beneath his baleful een, disrobe, unscathed, on sacred shores and wallow in between; nor does a soldier then assume his university costume, and though it makes the faithful fume, it makes the faithless clean. the return of the wounded to england is marked by strange incidents, pathetic and humorous. thus it has been reserved for an officer, reported dead in the casualty list, to ring up his people on the telephone and correct "this silly story about my being killed." and the cheerfulness of the limbless men in blue is something wonderful. they "jest at scars," but not because they "never felt a wound." it is a high privilege to entertain these light-hearted heroes, one of whom recently presented his partner in a lawn tennis match with a fragment of shell taken direct from his "stummick." and the recipient rightly treasures it as a love-token. parliament has reassembled, the inquisitors returning (unhappily) like giants refreshed after their holiday. but they sometimes contribute to our amusement, as when one relentless and complacent critic declared that, on the matter of conscription, he should himself "prefer to be guided--very largely--by lord kitchener." the concession is something. most of the importunate questionists are on the other side: "take from us any joys you like," they cry; "we'd bear the loss, however much we missed 'em; let truth and justice, fame and honour die, but spare, o spare, our voluntary system!" amongst other signs of the times the increase of girl gardeners and the sacrifice of flower beds to vegetables are to be noted. but war changes are sometimes disconcerting, even when they are most salutary. for example, there is the _cri de coeur_ of a passenger on a clydebank tramcar in glasgow on saturday night, with a lady conductor: "i canna jist bottom this, tam. it's seterday nicht an' this is the clydebank caur, an' there's naebody singin' an' naebody fechtin' wi' the conductor." liquor control evidently does mean something. [illustration: a handy man marine;(somewhat late for parade): "at six o'clock i was a bloomin' 'ousemaid: at seven o'clock i was a bloomin' valet; at eight o'clock i was a bloomin' waiter; an' _now_ i'm a bloomin' soldier!"] the war vocabulary grows and grows. "pipsqueaks," "crumps" and "jack johnsons," picturesque equivalents for unpleasant things, have long been familiar even to arm-chair experts. the strangely named "archie," and "pacifist," the dismay of scholars--a word "mean as what it's meant to mean"--now come to be added to the list. a new and admirable explanation of the r.f.a., "ready for anyfink," is attributed to a street arab. our children are mostly lapped in blissful ignorance, but their comments are often illuminating. as, for instance, the suggestion of a small child asked to give her idea of a suitable future for germany and the kaiser: "after the war i wouldn't let heligoland belong to anybody. i would put the germans there, and they should dig and dig and dig until it was all dug into the sea. the kaiser should be sent to america, and they should be as rude as they liked to him. if he went in a train no one was to offer him a seat; he was to hang on to a strap, and he is to be called mr. smith." cooks are being bribed to stay by the gift of war bonds. smart fashionables are flocking to munition works, and some of them sometimes are not unnaturally growing almost frightened at the organising talents they are developing. so are other people. a vigorous campaign against flies has been initiated by the journal which describes itself as "that paper which gets things done." nothing is too small for it. meanwhile it is announced that "lord northcliffe is travelling and will be beyond the reach of correspondence until the end of next week." even he must have an occasional rest from his daily mail. we have to apologise for any suggestion to the effect that the huns are devoid of humour. the german society for the protection and preservation of monuments has held a meeting in brussels and expressed its thanks to the german military authorities for the care they had taken of the monuments in belgium. the function ended with an excursion to louvain, where the delegates, no doubt, enjoyed a happy hour in the library. _october, 1915_. september ended with the western front once more ablaze, with bitter fighting at loos and a great french offensive in champagne. with october the focus of interest and anxiety shifts to the balkans. austrian armies, stiffened with germans, have again invaded serbia and again occupied belgrade. the allies have landed at salonika, and ferdinand of bulgaria has declared war on serbia. thus a new theatre of war has been opened, and though it is well to be rid of a treacherous neutral, the conflict enters on a fresh and formidable phase. when ferdinand went to bulgaria he is said to have resolved that if ever there were to be any assassinations he would be on the side of the assassins. he has been true to his word ever since the removal of stamboloff: here stands the moslem with his brutal sword still red and reeking with armenia's slaughter; here, fresh from belgium's wastes, the christian lord, his heart unsated by the wrong he wrought her; and you between them, on your brother's track, sworn, for a bribe, to stick him in the back. france and england have declared their intention of rendering all possible help to serbia in her new ordeal, but greece, false to her treaty with serbia, and dominated by a pro-german court and government, hampers us at every turn. "'tis greece, but living greece no more." so byron sang, and a byron _de nos jours_ adds a new stanza to his appeal: lo, a new curse--the teuton bane! again rings out the trumpet call; france, england, russia, joined again, for freedom fight, for greece, for all; and greece--shall she that call ignore? then is she living greece no more! life in the trenches grows more strenuous as the output of high explosive increases, and the daily toll of our best and bravest makes grievous reading for the elders at home, "who linger here and droop beneath the heavy burden of our years," though many of them cheerfully undertake the thankless fatigues of guarding the king's highway as specials. but letters from the front still show the same genius for making light of hardship and deadly peril, the same happy gift of extracting amusement from trivial incidents. so those who spend their days and nights under heavy shell fire and heavy rain write to tell you that "tea is the dominating factor of war," or that "the mushrooming and ratting in their latest quarters" are satisfactory. and even the wounded, in comparing the hazards of london with those at the front, only indulge in mild irony at the expense of the "staunch dare-devil souls who stay at home." in parliament sir edward carson has explained the reasons of his resignation of office--his difference from his colleagues in the difficulties arising in the eastern theatre of war; and a resolution has been placed on the order-book proposing the appointment of a committee of inquiry on the dardanelles campaign. no abatement of the plague of questions is yet noticeable, but some slight excuse may be found for the "ragging" of the censor. this anonymous worthy, it appears, recently excised the words "and the kings" from the well-known line in mr. kipling's "recessional": the captains and the kings depart. apparently the censor cannot admit any reference to the movements of royalty. [illustration: realisation ("when i went to bulgaria i resolved that if there were to be any assassinations i would be on the side of the assassins." statement by ferdinand.)] when the kaiser was at windsor in 1891 he told the eton college volunteers he was glad to see so many of them taking an interest in the study of arms, and hoped that if ever they had to draw their swords in earnest they would use them to some purpose for their country. now that there are three thousand etonians at the front he is beginning to be sorry he spoke. the kaiser, by his own confession, is sorry in another way. he has told a socialist deputy, "with tears in his eyes," that he was sincerely sorry for france, which was "the greatest disappointment of his life." even crocodiles sometimes speak the truth unwittingly. meanwhile the hamburg _fremdenblatt_ asserts that, "we germans would gladly follow the kaiser's lead through the very gates of hell, were it necessary." the qualification is surely superfluous, in the light of the murder of the heroic english hospital matron, edith cavell, at brussels on october 12. her life was one long act of mercy. she died with unshaken fortitude after the mockery of a trial on a charge of having assisted fugitive british and belgian prisoners to escape. but her great offence was that she was english. the names of her chief assassins are general baron von biasing, the governor of brussels, general von sauberschweig, the military governor, and the baron von der lancken, the head of the political department. many years will pass before the echoes of that volley fired at dawn in a brussels prison yard will die away. [illustration: landlady; "'ere's the zeppelins, sir!" lodger: "right-o! put 'em down outside."] a new phase has been reached in the conscription controversy, and the burning question appears to be whether the necessary men are to be compelled to volunteer or persuaded to be compulsorily enrolled. one of our novelist military experts, who is not always lucky with figures, though he thoroughly enjoys them, is alleged to have discovered that there are no more men than can be raised by conscription, but that the same does not, of course, apply to the voluntary system. the _daily mail_ asks, "have we a foreign office?" we understand that a search-party is going carefully through carmelite house. we have certainly got a chancellor of the duchy of lancaster, so efficient in the discharge of his duties that he has made himself an accomplished landscape painter in three months. a visitor to a remote east anglian village in search of rest has found recreation in discussing with the inhabitants the great war, of which he found some of them had heard. "them there zett'lins," said one old woman, "i almost shruk as i heerd the mucky varmints a-shovellin' on the coals--dare, dare! how my pore heart did beat!" and an onlooker, who had seen a bomb drop near a church, informed the visitor that it "fared to him like the body of the chach a-floatin' away--that it did and all! it made a clangin' like a covey of lorries with their innards broke loose." another inhabitant said that he had two boys fighting. "one on 'em is in france, wherever that might be, and jimmy's in that hare old dardelles." he couldn't rightly say when the elder had gone out, "but it might be a yare ago come muck-spreadin'." _november_, 1915. more money and more men is still the cry. the war is now costing five millions a day, and the new vote of credit for £400,000,000 will only carry us on till the middle of february. this is "derby's day," and the new director of recruiting inspires confidence in his ability to make good, in spite of the jeremiads of lord courtney and lord loreburn. the lot of a coalition government is never easy, and public opinion clamours not for jeremiahs but for jonahs to lighten the ship of state. mr. winston churchill, wearying of his sinecure at the duchy of lancaster, has resigned office, explained himself in a long speech, and rejoined his regiment at the western front. lord fisher, whose doubts and hesitations about the dardanelles expedition were referred to by the late first lord, has been content to leave his record of sixty-one years' service in the hands of his countrymen. in the briefest maiden speech ever delivered in either house he stated that it was "unfitting to make personal explanations affecting the national interest when my country is in the midst of a great war." here at least the traditions of the "silent service" have been worthily maintained, just as they are maintained by the port officer r.n.r. at an oriental seaport, a thousand miles from the front, out of the limelight, with no chance of glory, with fever from morn till night, who "worries along by the grace of god and the blessing of cheap cheroots." in flanders the rain has begun its winter session, and, as a military humorist put it, trench warfare is becoming a constant drain. the problem of parapet mending has been reduced to arithmetical form _à la_ colenso, as follows: "if two inches of rain per diem brings down one quarter of a company's parapet, and one company, working about twenty-six hours per diem, can revet one-eighth of a company's parapet, how long will your trenches last--given the additional premisses that no revetments to speak of are to be had, and that two inches of rain is only a minimum ration?" the infantryman finds the men of the r.f.c. interesting and stimulating companions. "these airy fellows talk of war as if it were a day's shooting, and they the cock pheasants with the best of the fun up aloft. upon my word, the hen who hatched such birds should be a proud, if anxious, mother." the same correspondent sends a pleasant account of the mutual estimates of french and english, prompted by their experiences as brothers in arms. "our idea of our ally as a soldier is that his _élan_ and gay courage are very much more remarkable even than supposed; but for the dull, heavy work of continued warfare there is wanted, if we may say so without offence, the more stolid qualities of the english. on the other hand, the french opinion of their ally as a soldier is that his dash and devilment are really astonishing, even to the most expectant critic; but for the sordid, monotonous strain of this trench business it needs (a thousand pardons!) the duller persistence of the french." [illustration: the persuading of tino] in greece the quick change of premiers proceeds with kaleidoscopic rapidity. the attitude of the successive prime ministers has been described as (1) tender and affectionate neutrality toward the entente powers; (2) malevolent impartiality toward the central powers; (3) inert cupidity toward all the belligerent powers; (4) genial inability; (5) strict pusillanimity. lord milner has gone so far in the house of lords as to say that "such war news as is published has from first to last been seriously misleading." the balkan intelligence that is allowed to reach us does not exactly deserve this censure. to call it misleading would be too high praise; it seldom rises beyond a level of blameless irrelevance. it is hardly a burlesque of the facts to say that a cable from amsterdam informs us that the copenhagen correspondent of the _echo de paris_ learns from salonika, _viâ_ lemnos and nijni novgorod, that in high official circles in bukarest it is rumoured that in constantinople the situation is considered grave; and then we are warned that too much credence must not be given to this report. the number of censors at the press bureau being exactly forty, and their minute knowledge of english literature having been displayed on several occasions, it is said that sir john simon contemplates their incorporation as an academy of "immortals--for the duration of the war." [illustration: paddy (who has had his periscope smashed by a bullet): "sure there's seven years' bad luck for the poor devil that broke that, anyhow."] mr. punch's correspondent "blanche" sends distressing details of some of the new complaints contracted by smart war workers. these include munition-wrists, shell-makers' crouch, neuro-committee-itis, and zeppelin-eye through looking up into the sky too long with a telescope. a great deal depends on what you look at and what you look through. thus mr. walter long says that when he reads carping criticisms upon the conduct of the war he looks through his window at the people in the street and is always surprised to see the quiet steadfast manner in which they are going about their business. it is a good plan, but not always successful. the kaiser got his view of the irish people through a casement, and it was entirely erroneous. the _cologne gazette_ has stated that "there is in england no real soldiers' humour such as we have." certainly we have nothing like it, though we confess to preferring the home-grown brand. _december, 1915_ kut and ctesiphon, ctesiphon and kut. thus may the events of the last month in mesopotamia, no longer a "blessed word," be expressed in a bald formula, which takes no account of the unavailing heroism of general townshend's small but splendid force. things have not been going well in the east. the allies have been unable to save serbia, monastir has fallen, and our lines have been withdrawn to salonika. the experts are now divided into two camps, the westerners and the easterners, and the former, pointing to the evacuation of gallipoli, are loud in their denunciations of costly "side-shows," and the folly of strengthening germany's hold on turkey by killing out the turks, instead of concentrating all our forces on killing the germans on the western front. the time is not yet come to decide which is right. but all are agreed with the british officer who described the australian soldier at gallipoli as "the bravest thing god ever made," and so prompted these lines: bravest, where half a world of men are brave beyond all earth's rewards, so stoutly none shall charge again till the last breaking of the swords; wounded or hale, won home from war, or yonder by the lone pine laid; give him his due for evermore- "the bravest thing god ever made!" though the wings of the angel of peace cannot be heard, peace kite-flying has already begun in vienna, but germany is anxious to represent it as unauthorised and improper. mr. henry ford's voyage to europe on the _oscar ii_ with a strangely assorted group of pacificists does more credit to his heart than his head, and the conflicting elements in his party have earned for his ship the name of "the tug of peace." anyhow, england is taking no risks on the strength of these irregular "overtures." a vote has been passed for a further increase of our "contemptible little army" to four millions; and the manufacture of high explosive goes on in an ever-increasing ratio. sir douglas haig has succeeded sir john french as commander-in-chief of our armies in france; sir william robertson is the new chief of staff--scotsmen both of the finest type--and the appointments are universally approved, even by the _daily mail_. the temper of the men in france is well hit off by an officer when he says that "atkins is really best when an ordinary mortal might be contemplating suicide or desertion." and officers arriving on leave at victoria at 2 a.m. are driven to the conclusion that they are sent back to england from time to time to check their optimism, which at the front survives even being sent to so-called rest camps in the middle of a malodorous marsh for nine hours' military training _per diem_. the "philosophy of thomas" is inscrutable, but no doubt he derives satisfaction from comparisons: if we're standin' in two foot o' water, you see quite likely the boches are standin' in three; an' though the keen frost may be ticklin' our toes, 'oo doubts that the boches' 'ole bodies is froze? so 'ere's our philosophy, simple an' plain: wotever we 'ates in the bloomin' campaign, 'tis balm to our souls, as we grumble an' cuss, to feel that the boches are 'atin' it wuss. hardest of all is the lot of the trooper in the trenches, who "thinks all day and dreams all night of a slap-bang, tally-ho! open fight," but for the time being "like a blinded mole toils in a furrow and lives in a hole." [illustration: an unauthorised flirtation the kaiser (to austrian emperor): "franz! franz! i'm surprised and pained."] the national thrift campaign is carried on with great earnestness in parliament. luxury, waste, unnecessary banquets, high legal salaries have all come under the lash of the economy hunters. of the maxim that "charity begins, at home," they have, however, so far shown no appreciation beyond abstaining from voting any addition to their salary of £400 a year. mr. asquith's announcement that he takes his salary, and is going to continue taking it, has naturally lifted a great weight from the minds of these vicarious champions of economy. [illustration: tommy (finding a german prisoner who speaks english): "look what you done to me, you blighters! 'ere--'ave a cigarette?"] evidence of the chastened condition of the enemy is to be found in the statement on the official notepaper of wolff's telegraphic bureau "that it assumes no responsibility of any kind for the accuracy of the news which it circulates." but there is no confirmation of the report that its dispatches will in future be known as "lamb's tales." the german imperial chancellor has replied to an appeal from a deputation of german roman catholics on behalf of the armenians that "the german government, in friendly communication with the turkish government, has been at constant pains to better the situation of turkey's christian subjects." thanks to this friendly intervention, more than half a million armenians will never suffer again from turkish misrule. mr. roosevelt has added to the picturesqueness of political invective by describing mr. wilson's last presidential message as "worthy of a byzantine logothete." it is not often that one finds a rough-rider and ex-cowboy who is able to tackle a don in his own lingo. but tommy at the front manages to converse with the _poilu_ without any vocabulary at all: i met a chap the other day a-roostin' in a trench, 'e didn't know a word of ours nor me a word of french, an' 'ow it was we managed--well, i cannot understand, but i never used the phrase-book, though i 'ad it in my hand. i winked at 'im to start with; 'e grinned from ear to ear; an' 'e says "tipperary," an' i says "sooveneer"; 'e 'ad my only woodbine, i 'ad 'is thin cigar, which set the ball a-rollin', an' so--well, there you are! i showed 'im next my wife an' kids, 'e up an' showed me 'is, them funny little frenchy kids with 'air all in a frizz; "annette," 'e says, "louise," 'e says, an' 'is tears began to fall; we was comrades when we parted, but we'd 'ardly spoke at all. _january, 1916_. the new year brings us a mixed bag of tricks, good and bad. our armies grow in numbers and efficiency, in men and munitions. the new commander-in-chief on the western front, and his new chief of staff, inspire confidence in all ranks, combatant and non-combatant. john ward, the labour member, hitherto a strong opponent of conscription, and now a full-blown colonel, has hurried over from the front to defend the compulsory service bill in a manly and animated speech, and the bill, despite the "pringling" and pacificism of a small but local minority, has passed through committee. against these encouraging omens we have to set the complete evacuation of gallipoli, the scene of unparalleled heroism and unavailing sacrifice, the fall of monastir, the overrunning of serbia, labour troubles on the clyde, and the ignominious exemption of ireland from the military service bill. general townshend, _rebus angustis animosus_--"in a tight place but full of beans"--is besieged in kut, and the relieving forces have not been able to dislodge the turks. climate and weather and _terrain_ are all against us. humanitarian pacificists are much impressed by germany's piteous lamentations over the brutality of the blockade. in these appeals to america optimists detect signs of cracking. cooler observers explain them as evidence of her policy of shamming dead. english mothers who have lost their only sons cannot be expected to show sympathy for an emperor who combines the professions of a jekyll with the ferocity of a hyde. yet few of them would rewrite the record of these short lives; their pride is greater than their pain. while the daily toll of life is heavy, war, shorn of its pomp and pageantry, drags wearily in the trenches. the lovelace of to-day is a troglodyte, biding his time patiently, but often a prey to _ennui_. this is how he writes to lucasta to correct the portrait painted by her fancy: above, the sky is very grey, the world is very damp. his light the sun denies by day, the moon by night her lamp; across the landscape, soaked and sad, the dull guns answer back, and through the twilight's futile hush spasmodic rifles crack. the papers haven't come to-day to show how england feels; the hours go lame and languidly between our spartan meals; we've written letters till we're tired, with not a thing to tell except that nothing's doing, weather beastly, writer well. so when you feel for us out here--as well i know you will- then sympathise with thousands for their country sitting still; don't picture battle-pieces by the lurid press adored, but miles and miles of britishers, in burrows, badly bored. [illustration: for neutrals "why do we torpedo passenger ships? because we are being starved by the infamous english." for natives "who says we are in distress? look what our splendid organisation is doing."] small wonder that lovelace in the trenches envies the flying man: he rides aloof on god-like wings, taking no thought of wire or mud, saps, smells, or bugs--the mundane things that sour our lives and have our blood. the roads we trudged with feet of lead, the shadows of his pinions skim; the river where we piled our dead is but a silver thread to him. lovelace in the air might tell another story; but both are at one with their prototype in the spirit which made him say: "i could not love thee, dear, so much, loved i not honour more," though neither of them would say it. in this context one may add that the flying men are not alone in exciting envy. bread is the staff of life, and in the view of certain officers in the trenches the life of the staff is one long loaf. the discussion on the withdrawal of members' salaries has died down. the incident is now buried, and here is its epitaph: some three-score years or so ago six hundred gallant men made a charge that cost old england dear; they lost four hundred then: to-day six hundred make a charge that costs the country dear, but now they take four hundred each--four hundred pounds a year. our journalists have been visiting the fleet, and one of them, in a burst of candour tempered with caution, declares that "one would like to describe much more than one has seen, but that is impossible." some other correspondents have found no such difficulty. but for admirable candour commend us to the _daily mail_ of december 24, where we read, "the _daily mail_ will not be published to-morrow, and for that reason we seize the occasion to-day of bidding our readers a merry christmas"--and a very good reason too. mr. punch is glad to reprint a ten-year-old girl's essay on "patriotism": "patriotism is composed of patriots, and they are people who live in ireland and want mr. redmond or other people to be king of ireland. they are very brave, some of them, and are so called after st. patrick, who is ireland's private saint. the patriots who are brave make splendid soldiers. the patriots who are not brave go to america." and here is a topical extract from a letter written to a loved one from the front: "i received your dear little note in a sandbag. you say that you hope the sandbag stops a bullet. well, to tell the truth, i hope it don't, as i have been patching my trousers with it." [illustration: tommy (dictating letter to be sent to his wife): "the nurses here are a very plain lot--" nurse: "oh, come! i say! that's not very polite to us." tommy: "never mind. nurse, put it down. it'll please her!"] tommy is adding to his other great qualities that of diplomacy, to judge from the incident illustrated above. _february, 1916_. the epic of the dardanelles is closed; that of verdun has begun, and all eyes are focused on the tremendous struggle for the famous fortress. the crown prince has still his laurels to win, and it is clear that no sacrifice of german "cannon fodder" will be too great to deter him from pushing the stroke home. fort douaumont has fallen, and the hill of the mort homme has already terribly justified its cadaverous name. the war-lords of germany are sorely in need of a spectacular success even though they purchase it at a great price, for they are very far from having everything their own way. another colony has gone the way of tsing-tau, new guinea and south-west africa. the german kamerun has cried "kamerad!" general smuts, like botha, "boer and briton too," has gone off to take command in east africa, and in the caucasus erzerum has fallen to the russians. the kaiser is reported to be bitterly disappointed with allah. sir edward grey is not altogether satisfied with the conduct of the neutral powers. he has no desire to make things as irksome to them as some of his critics desire. but he has pointed out that in the matter of preventing supplies from reaching the enemy by circuitous routes great britain has her own work to do, and means to do it thoroughly. the miraculous forbearance of president wilson, in face of the activities of count bernstorff, is even more trying to a good many of his countrymen than it is to the belligerent briton. mr. roosevelt, for instance, derives no satisfaction from being the fellow-countryman of a man who can "knock spots" off job for patience. the _new york life_ has long criticised the president with a freedom far eclipsing anything in the british press. it has now crowned its "interventionist" campaign by a "john bull number," the most generous and graceful tribute ever paid to england by the american press. [illustration: the challenge "halt! who comes there?" "neutral." "prove it!" "what i would say to neutrals is this: do they admit our right to apply the principles which were applied by the american government in the war between north and south--to apply those principles to modern conditions and to do our best to prevent trade with the enemy through neutral countries? if the answer is that we are not entitled to do that, then i must say definitely it is a departure from neutrality."--sir edward grey.] [illustration: grannie (dragged out of bed at 1.30 a.m., and being hurriedly dressed as the bombs begin to fall): "nancy, these stockings are not a pair."] the military service bill has passed through both houses, and may be trusted to hasten still further the amazing growth of our once "contemptible little" army. the pleasantest incident during the month at westminster has been the tribute paid to the gallantry and self-sacrifice of the officers and men of our mercantile marine. the least satisfactory aspect of parliamentary activity has been the ventilation of silly rumours at question time, in which mr. ginnell has been so well to the fore as to suggest some subtle connection between cattle-driving and hunting for mares' nests. steps have already been taken to restrict the imports of luxuries, and ministers are believed to be unanimous in regarding "ginger" as an article whose importation might be profitably curtailed. it has been calculated that the annual expenses saved by the closing of the london museums and galleries amount to about one-fifth of the public money spent on the salaries of members of parliament. in other words: let art and science die, but give us still our old loquacity. intellectual retrenchment, of course, is desirable, but let us still keep open one collection of curiosities and quaint antiques, under immediate cabinet direction- the finest specimens of talking freaks, who constitute our most superb museum, judged by the salaries with which we fee 'em. lord sumner, however, seems to have no illusions on this score. he is reported to have said that "if the house of lords and the house of commons could be taken and thrown into a volcano every day the loss represented would be less than the daily loss of the campaign." it sounds a drastic remedy, but might be worth trying. field-marshal lord french has taken over the responsibility for home defence against enemy aircraft, with sir percy scott as his expert adviser. but the status of sir percy, who, as officially announced, "has not quite left the admiralty and has not quite joined the war office," seems to suggest "a kind of giddy harumfrodite--soldier an' sailor too." the war fosters the study of natural and unnatural history. [illustration: first lady: "that's one of them australian soldiers." second lady: "how do you know?" first lady: "why, can't you see the kangaroo feathers in his hat?"] many early nestings are recorded as the result of mild weather, and at least one occasional visitor _(polonius bombifer_) has laid eggs in various parts of the country. _march_, 1916. the month of the war god has again justified its name and its traditions. both entry and exit have been leonine. the new submarine "frightfulness" began on the 1st, and the battle round verdun, in which the fate of paris, to say the least, is involved, has raged with unabated fury throughout the entire month. germany's junior partners, turkey and bulgaria, are for the moment more concerned with bleeding germany than with shedding their blood for her; enver pasha is reported to have gone to pay a visit to the tomb of the prophet at medina; portugal, our oldest ally, is now officially at war with germany, and the dogs of frightfulness are already toasting "_der tagus_." on our share of the western front there is still what is nominally described as a "lull." but, as a young officer writes, "you must not imagine that life here is all honey. even here we do a bit for our eight-and-sixpence." once upon a time billets were billets. they now very often admit of being shelled with equal exactitude from due in front and due in rear, and water is laid on throughout. "it is a fact well known to all our most widely circulated photographic dailies that the german gunners waste a power of ammunition. the only criticism i have to make is that i wish they would waste it more carefully. the way they go strewing the stuff about around us is such that they're bound to hit someone or something before long. still, we have only two more days in these trenches, and they seldom give us more than ten thousand shells a day." [illustration: verdun, february--march, 1916] letters from second-lieutenants seldom go beyond a gentle reminder that their life is not an elysium. they offer a strange contrast to the activities of parliamentary grousers and scapegoat hunters. if the germans were in occupation of the black country, if oxford were being daily shelled as rheims is, and if with a favouring breeze london could hear the dull rumble of the bombardment as paris can, one wonders if members would still be encumbering the order-paper with the vexatious trivialities that now find place there, or emitting what a patriotic labour member picturesquely described as "the croakings and bleatings of the fatted lambs who have besmirched their country." _per contra_ we welcome the optimism of mr. asquith in discussing new votes of credit, though he reminds us of micawber calculating his indebtedness for the benefit of traddles. it will be remembered that when the famous iou had been handed over, copperfield remarked, "i am persuaded not only that this was quite the same to mr. micawber as paying the money, but that traddles himself hardly knew the difference until he had had time to think about it." then we have had the surprising but welcome experience of mr. tim healy championing the government against sir john simon's attack on the military service bill; and have listened to lord montagu of beaulieu's urgent plea in the lords for unity of air control, a proposal which lord haldane declared could not be adopted without some "violent thinking." most remarkable of all has been mr. churchill's intervention in the debate on the naval estimates, his gloomy review of the situation--mr. churchill is always a pessimist when out of office--and the marvellous magnanimity of his suggestion that lord fisher should be reinstated at the admiralty, on the ground that his former antagonist was the only possible first sea lord. mr. balfour dealt so faithfully with these criticisms and suggestions that there seems to be no truth in the report that mr. churchill has been asked to join the government as minister of admonitions. a new and coruscating star has swum into our parliamentary ken in the shape of the member for mid-herts, and astronomers have labelled it "pegasus [greek: pi beta]." when the house of commons passed the bill prohibiting duels it ought to have made an exception in favour of its own members. nothing would have done more to raise the tone of debate, for offenders against decorum would gradually have eliminated one another. yet parliament has its merits, not the least of them being the scope it still affords for hereditary talent. lord derby, at the moment the most prominent man on the home front after the premier, is the grandson of the "rupert of debate," and the new minister of blockade enters on his duties close on fifty years after another lord robert cecil entered the cabinet of lord derby. so history repeats itself with a difference. in spite of the coalition, or perhaps because of it, the old strife of whigs and tories has revived, though the lines of cleavage are quite different from what they were. thus the new tories are the men who believe that the war is going to be decided by battles in flanders and the north sea, and would sacrifice everything for victory, even the privilege of abusing the government. the new whigs are the men who consider that the house of commons is the decisive arena, and that even the defeat of the germans would be dearly purchased at the cost of the individual's right to say and do what he pleased. [illustration: "he's kicked the corporal!" "he's kicked the vet.!!" "he's kicked the transport officer!!!" "he's kicked the colonel!!!!" mule humour] [illustration: the vicar: "these salonikans, mrs. stubbs, are, of course, the thessalonians to whom st. paul wrote his celebrated letters." mrs. stubbs: "well, i 'ope 'e'd better luck with 'is than i 'ave. i sent my boy out there three letters and two parcels, and i ain't got no answer to 'em yet."] after the exhibition of mr. augustus john's portrait of mr. lloyd george, the most startling personal event of the month has been the dismissal of grand admiral tirpitz. according to one account, he resigned because he could not take the german fleet out. according to another, it was because he could no longer take the german people in. at oxford the hebdomadal council have suspended the filling of the professorship of modern greek for six months. apparently there is no one about just now who understands the modern greek. a french correspondent puts it somewhat differently: "_la grèce antique_: hellas. _la grèce moderne_: hélas!" _april, 1916_. who would have thought when the month opened that at its close a new front within the four seas would be added to our far-flung line, dublin's finest street half ruined, ireland placed under martial law? certainly not mr. birrell or mr. redmond or the irish nationalist members. the staunchest unionist would acquit mr. william o'brien of any menace when in the budget debate, three weeks before the rebellion of easter week, he gave it as his opinion that ireland ought to be omitted from the budget altogether. so, too, with mr. tim healy, whose principal complaint was that the tax on railway tickets would put a premium on foreign travel; that people would go to paris instead of dublin, and switzerland instead of killarney. no, so far as the government and ireland's parliamentary representatives went, it was a bolt from the blue--or the green. mr. birrell, chief secretary for ireland for nine years, a longer period than any of his predecessors, has shown himself conspicuous at once by his absence and his innocence, and england in her hour of need, with the submarine peril daily growing and all but starved out after a heroic defence, stands to pay dearly for the privilege of entrusting the administration of ireland to an absentee humorist. on the western front verdun still rivets all eyes. the german hordes are closing in on the fortress, but at a heavier cost for each mile gained than they have ever paid before. germany's colossal effort would inspire admiration as well as respect if she would only fight clean. the ugly stories of her treatment of prisoners have now culminated in the terrible record of the typhus-stricken camp at wittenberg, where the german doctors deserted their post. [illustration: the repudiation martin luther (to shakespeare): "i see my countrymen claim you as one of them. you may thank god that you're not that. they have made my wittenberg--ay, and all germany--to stink in my nostrils."] [illustration: the grapes of verdun the old fox: "you don't seem to be getting much nearer them?" the cub: "no, father. hadn't we better give it out that they're sour?"] the report of mr. justice younger's committee, in which the tale of this atrocity is fully told, is being circulated in neutral countries, and mr. will thorne has suggested that it should also be sent to our conscientious objectors. it is well to administer some sort of corrective to the information diffused by the neutral newsmonger: who cheers us when we're in the blues, with reassuring german news, of starving berliners in queues? the neutral. and then, soon after, tells us they are feeding nicely all the day, and in the old familiar way? the neutral. who sees the kaiser in berlin, dejected, haggard, old as sin, and shaking in his hoary skin? the neutral. then says he's quite a sunny jim, that buoyant health and youthful vim are sticking out all over him? the neutral. who tells us tales of krupp's new guns, much larger than the other ones, and endless trains chock-full of huns? the neutral. and then, when our last hope has fled, declares the huns are either dead or hopelessly dispirited? the neutral. in short, who seems to be a blend of balaam's ass, the bore's godsend, and _mrs. gamp's_ elusive friend? the neutral. in parliament we have had the biggest budget ever known introduced in the shortest budget speech of the last half-century, at any rate. mr. pemberton billing is doing his best every tuesday to bring the atmosphere of the aerodrome into the house. mr. tennant has promised his sympathetic consideration to mr. billing's offer personally to organise raids on the enemy's aircraft bases, and the house is bearing up as well as can be expected under the shadow of this impending bereavement. mr. swift macneill is busy with his patriotic effort to purge the roll of the lords of the peerages now held by enemy dukes. for the rest, up to easter week, the parliamentary situation has been described as "a cabal every afternoon and a crisis every second day." it is one of the strange outcomes of this wonderful time that there is more gaiety as well as more suffering in hospitals during the war than in peace. certainly such a request would never have been heard in normal years as that recently made by a nurse to a roomful of irrepressible tommies at a private hospital: "a message has just come in to ask if the hospital will make a little less noise as the lady next door has a touch of headache." for shouting "the zepps are coming!" a grimsby girl has been fined £1. it was urged in defence that the girl suffered from hallucinations, one being that she was a daily newspaper proprietor. but the recent zeppelin raids have not been without their advantages. in a spirit of emulation an ambitious hen at acton has laid an egg weighing 5-1/4 oz. [illustration: visitor (at private hospital): "can i see lieutenant barker, please?" matron: "we do not allow ordinary visiting. may i ask if you are a relative?" visitor (boldly): "oh, yes! i'm his sister." matron: "dear me! i'm very glad to meet you. _i'm his mother_."] _may, 1916_. verdun still holds out: that is the best news of the month. the french with inexorable logic continue to exact the highest price for the smallest gain of ground. if the germans are ready to give 100,000 men for a hill or part of a hill they may have it. if they will give a million men they may perhaps have verdun itself. but so far their pyrrhic victories have stopped short of this limit, and verdun, like ypres, battered, ruined and evacuated by civilians, remains a symbol of allied tenacity and the will to resist. the months in war-time sometimes belie their traditions, but it is fitting that in may we should have enlisted a new ally--the sun. the daylight saving bill became law on may 17. here is a true economy, and our only regret is that mr. willett, the chief promoter of a scheme complacently discussed during his lifetime as ingenious but impracticable, should not have lived to witness its swift and unmurmuring acceptance under stress of war. the official _communiqués_ from the irish front in the earlier stages of the dublin rebellion did not long maintain their roseate complexion. even before the end of april a secret session--the second in a week--was held to discuss the irish situation. by a strange coincidence this secret session immediately followed the grant by the commons of a return relating to irish lunacy accounts. from the meagre official summary we gather that the absence of reporters has at least the negative advantage of shortening speeches. in a very few days, however, the prime minister discarded reticence, admitting the gravity of the situation, the prevalence of street fighting, the spread of the insurrection in the west, the appointment of sir john maxwell to the supreme command, and the placing of the irish government under his orders. the inevitable sequel--the execution of the responsible insurrectionist leaders--has led to vehement protests from messrs. dillon and o'brien against militarist brutality. the house of commons is a strange place. when mr. birrell rose on may 3 to give an account of his nine years' stewardship, the unionists, and not the unionists alone, were thinking of a lamp-post in whitehall. when he had concluded his pathetic apologia and confessed his failure to estimate accurately the strength of sinn fein, members were almost ready to fall on his neck, but they no longer wanted his head. [illustration: held:] [illustration: wanted--a st. patrick st. augustine birrell: "i'm afraid i'm not so smart as my brother-saint at dealing with this kind of thing. i'm apt to take reptiles too lightly."] even sir edward carson admitted that mr. birrell had been well intentioned and had done his best. by the middle of the month mr. asquith had gone to ireland, in the hope of discovering some arrangement for the future which would commend itself to all parties. by the 25th he was back in his place after nine days in dublin. but he had no panacea of his own to prescribe; no cut-and-dried plan for the regeneration of ireland. all he could say was that mr. lloyd george had been deputed by the cabinet to confer with the various irish leaders, and the choice is generally approved. if anyone knows how to handle high explosives without causing a premature concussion it should be the minister of munitions. ireland has dominated the political scene at home, for it is impossible not to connect our new commitments across st. george's channel with the introduction and passing of the new military service bill establishing compulsion for all men, married or single--always excepting ireland. the question of man-power is paramount. mr. asquith is at last convinced that "wait and see" must yield to "do it now": that the nation won't have the sword of damocles hanging over its head any longer, but will have compulsion in its hand at once. on the progress of the war mr. asquith has said little in open session, but any omission on his part has been made good by mr. churchill, now home on unlimited leave, who has spoken at great length on the proper use of armies. mr. arthur ponsonby and mr. ramsay macdonald, who raised the question of peace on empire day, urging the government to open negotiations with germany, have elicited from the foreign secretary the deliberate statement that the only terms of peace which the german government had ever put forward were the terms of victory for germany, and that we could not reason with the german people so long as they were fed with lies. mr. henry james, who so nobly repaid the hospitality england was proud to show him by adopting her nationality in her hour of greatest need, said shortly before his death that nothing grieved him more than the constant loss of england's "best blood, seed and breed." the mothers of england "give their sons," but they know that the choice did not rest with them: we did not give you--all unasked you went, sons of a greater motherhood than ours; to our proud hearts your young brief lives were lent, then swept beyond us by resistless powers. only we hear, when we have lost our all, that far clear call. but how can the grief be measured of those whose best, eager to serve a higher quest and in the great cause know the joy of battle, gallant and young, by traitor hands, leagued with a foe from alien lands, struck down in cold blood, fell like butchered cattle? though ireland is not for the moment a source of humour she contrives to be the cause of it in others. a daily paper tells us that sir robert chalmers is to be "permanent under-secretary of ireland _pro tem_." another daily paper, the _daily mail,_ to be precise, has discovered a new test of valour: "mr. hellish, a regular reader of the _daily mail_ for years, was awarded the v.c. last month for conspicuous bravery." _june, 1916_. at last the long vigil in the north sea has ended in the glorious if indecisive battle of jutland, the greatest sea fight since trafalgar. yet was it indecisive? after the momentary dismay caused by the first admiralty _communiqué_ with its over-estimate of our losses, public confidence, shaken where it was strongest, has been restored by further information and by the admissions of the enemy. we have to mourn the loss of many ships, still more the loss of splendid ships' companies and their heroic captains. we can sympathise with the cruel disappointment of those who, after bearing the brunt of the action, were robbed of the opportunity of overwhelming their enemy by failing light and the exigencies of a strategy governed in the last resort by political caution. but look at the sequel. the german fleet, badly battered, retires to port; and despite the paeans of exultation from their admirals, kaiser, and imperial chancellor, remains there throughout the month. will it ever come out again? meanwhile, wilhelmshaven is closed indefinitely, and nobody is allowed to see those sheep in wolff's clothing--the "victorious fleet." the true verdict, so far as we can judge, may be expressed in homely phrase: the british navy has taken a knock but given a harder one. we can stand it and they can't. [illustration: the lost chief in memory of field-marshal earl kitchener, maker of armies] within a week of jutland the empire has been stirred to its depths by the tragic death of lord kitchener in the _hampshire_, blown up by a mine off the shetlands on her voyage to archangel. on the eve of starting on his mission to russia his last official act had been to meet his critics of the house of commons face to face, reply to their questions and leave them silenced and admiring. on the day of the battle of jutland these critics had moved the prime minister to declare that lord kitchener was personally entitled to the credit for the amazing expansion of the army. sir mark sykes, no mean authority, asserted that in germany our war secretary was feared as a great organiser, while in the east his name was one to conjure with; and sir george reid, a worthy representative of the dominions, observed that his chief fault was that he was "not clever at circulating the cheap coin of calculated civilities which enable inferior men to rise to positions to which they are not entitled." these tributes were delivered in his lifetime; they deserve to be contrasted with the appreciations of those journalists who clamoured for his appointment, then clamoured for his dismissal, and profaned his passing with their insincere eulogies. three weeks of recess elapsed before the houses could render homage to the illustrious dead. in the lords the debt has been paid by a statesman, lord lansdowne, a soldier, lord french, and a friend, lord derby. in the commons the speeches were all touched with genuine emotion and the sense of personal loss. through all these various tributes rang the note of duty well done, and mr. bonar law did well to remind the house of the sure instinct which caused lord kitchener to realise at the very outset the gigantic nature of the present war. in a sense his loss is irreparable, yet his great work was accomplished before he died. sometimes accused of expecting others to achieve the impossible, he had achieved it himself in the crowning miracle of his life, the improvisation of the new armies. the violation of greek territory by the bulgarian troops, as might be expected, has not led to any effective protest from king constantine. on the contrary, one seems to hear this benevolent neutral deprecating any apology on the part of king ferdinand: "please make yourself at home. this is liberty hall." it is otherwise with the irruption of the russians under general brusiloff. his great offensive is a source of offence to the austrians, who have good reason to complain that the "steam-roller" is exceeding the speed limit. or to change the metaphor, the bear and his tormentor have changed places. ireland has receded a little from her place in the limelight, and though debates on martial law continue, and irish members ask an inordinate number of questions arising out of the hot easter week in dublin, the temperature is no longer "98 in the shade" as a local wit described it at the time. ministers are extremely economical of information: the anticipated settlement still hangs fire, and there are increasing fears that it will not hold water. [illustration: the far-reaching effect of the russian push] a number of professional fortune-tellers have been fined at southend for having predicted zeppelins. the fraudulent nature of their pretensions was sufficiently manifest, since even the authorities had been unable to foresee the zeppelins until some time after they had arrived. the discussions in parliament and out of it of the way in which things get into the papers which oughtn't to, are dying down. a daily paper, however, has revived them by the headline, "cabinet leekage." now, why, in wonder, do they spell it in that way? it is quite impossible to keep pace with all the new incarnations of women in war-time--'bus-conductress, ticket-collector, lift-girl, club waitress, post-woman, bank clerk, motor-driver, farm-labourer, guide, munition maker. there is nothing new in the function of ministering angel: the myriad nurses in hospital here or abroad are only carrying out, though in greater numbers than ever before, what has always been woman's mission. but whenever he sees one of these new citizens, or hears fresh stories of their address and ability, mr. punch is proud and delighted. perhaps in the past, even in the present, he may have been, or even still is, a little given to chaff englishwomen for some of their foibles, and even their aspirations. but he never doubted how splendid they were at heart; he never for a moment supposed they would be anything but ready and keen when the hour of need struck. [illustration: farmer (who has got a lady-help in the dairy): "'ullo, missy, what in the world be ye doin'?" lady: "well, you told me to water the cows, and i'm doing it. they don't seem to like it much."] _july, 1916_. on the home front we have long been accustomed to the sound of guns, small and great, but it has come from training camps and inspires confidence rather than anxiety. we have been spared the horrors of invasion, occupation, wholesale devastation. in certain areas the noise of bombs and anti-aircraft guns has grown increasingly familiar, and on our south-east and east coasts war from the air, on the sea, and under the sea has become more and more audible as the months pass by. but july has brought us a new experience--the sound fifty or sixty miles inland in peaceful rural england, amid glorious midsummer weather, of the continual throbbing night and day of the great guns on the somme, where our first great offensive opened on the 1st, and has continued with solid and substantial gains, some set-backs, heavy losses for the allies, still heavier for the enemy. names of villages and towns, which hitherto have been to most of us mere names on the map, have now become luminous through shining deeds of glory and sacrifice--contalmaison and mametz, delville wood, thiepval and beaumont-hamel, serre and pozières. the victory, for victory it is, has not been celebrated in the german way. england takes her triumphs as she takes defeats, without a sign of having turned a hair: yet we are proud because at last, at last we look upon the dawn of our desire; because the weary waiting-time is passed and we have tried our temper in the fire; and proving word by deed have kept the faith we pledged to france at need. but most because, from mine and desk and mart, springing to face a task undreamed before, our men, inspired to play their prentice part like soldiers lessoned in the school of war, true to their breed and name, went flawless through the fierce baptismal flame. and he who brought these armies into life, and on them set the impress of his will- could he be moved by sound of mortal strife, there where he lies, their captain, cold and still under the shrouding tide, how would his great heart stir and glow with pride! [illustration: "two heads with but a single thought" first head: "what prospects?" second head: "rotten." first head: "same here."] the results of the battle of the somme are shown in a variety of ways: by the reticence and admissions of the german press, by its efforts to divert attention to the exploits of the commercial submarine cruiser _deutschland_; above all, by the kaiser's fresh explosions of piety. "the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be." there is no further sign of his fleet, which remains crippled by its "victory." nor can he, still less his ally, draw comfort from the situation on the russian or italian fronts. [illustration: well done, the new army] mr. punch finds the usual difficulty in getting any details from his correspondents when they have been or are in the thick of the fighting. practically all that they have to say is that there was a "damned noise," that breakfast was delayed by the "morning hate," or that an angry sub besought a weary o.c. "to ask our gunners not to serve faults into our front line wire." one of them, however, a very wise young man, ventures on the prediction that the war will last well into 1918. as the result of a brief leave he has learned an important truth. "in england they assume that you, having just arrived from france, _know_. when you return to france, it is assumed that you, having just arrived from england, _know_." in parliament ireland is beginning to suffer from a rival in unenviable notoriety. mesopotamia does not smell particularly sweet just now, but that may add to its usefulness as a red herring. geographers are said to have some difficulty in defining its exact boundaries, but the government are probably quite convinced that it is situate between the devil and the deep sea. two special commissions are to be set up to inquire into the mesopotamian and dardanelles expeditions. public opinion has been painfully stirred by the harrowing details which have come to light of the preventible sufferings endured by british troops. from their point of view the supply of their medical needs, now guaranteed, is worth a wilderness of special commissions. but ireland still holds the floor, though mr. asquith is frugal of information as to the prospective irish bill and has deprecated discussion of the hardinge report, the most scarifying public document of our times. the lords, unembarrassed by any embargo, have discussed the report in a spirit which must make mr. birrell thank his stars that he got in his confession first. but why, he may ask, should he be judged by lord hardinge, himself a prospective defendant at the bar of public opinion? following the lead of a certain section of the press, certain members have begun to wax vocal on the subject of reprisals, uninterned aliens, and the hidden hand. their appeals to the home office to go on the spy-trail have not met with much sympathy so far. an alleged austrian taxi-driver has turned out to be a harmless scotsman with an impediment in his speech. more interesting has been the sudden re-emergence of mr. john burns. he sank without a trace two years ago, but has now bobbed up to denounce the proposal to strengthen the charing cross railway-bridge. we could have wished that he had been ready to "keep the bridge" in another sense; but at least he has been a silent pacificist. mr. winston churchill, when his journalistic labours permit, has contributed to the debates, and lord haldane has again delivered his famous lecture on the defects of english education. but for parliamentary sagacity _in excelsis_ commend us to mr. mccallum scott. he is seriously perturbed about the shortage of sausage-skins and, in spite of the bland assurance of mr. harcourt that supplies are ample, is alleged to be planning a fresh campaign with the assistance of mr. hogge. another shortage has given rise to no anxiety, but rather the reverse. in a police court it was recently stated that there are no longer any tramps in england. evidently the appeal of that stirring old song, "tramp! tramp! tramp! the boys are marching," has not been without its effect. [illustration: conjurer (unconscious of the approach of hostile aircraft): "now, ladies and gentlemen, i want you to watch me closely."] yet another endurable shortage is reported from the seaside, where an old sailor on the local sea front has been lamenting the spiritual starvation brought about by the war. "why," he said, "for the first time for twenty years we ain't got no performing fleas down here." and performers, when they do come, are not always successful in riveting the attention of their audience. _august, 1916_. the third year of the war opens well for the allies; so well that the kaiser has again issued a statement denying that he is responsible for it. the big push on the somme goes on steadily, thanks to fine leadership, the steadfast heroism of the new armies, and the loyal co-operation of the munition-workers at home, who have deferred their holiday rather than hamper their brothers in the trenches by a lessened output. here one fact may suffice as a sample. the weekly consumption of high explosives by the army is now between eleven and twelve thousand times as much as it was in september, 1914. yet when a lieutenant is asked to state what it is really like being along with the b.e.f. when it is in its pushful mood, he sedulously eschews heroics, and will not commit himself to saying more than that it's all right--that he doesn't think there is any cause for anxiety. "we seem to have ceased to have sensations out here. it is a matter of business; the only question is how long is it going to take to complete." so, too, with the tommies. "wonderful," declares the man in the ranks to persistent seekers after thrilling descriptions of war. "you never see the like. across in them trenches there was real soda-water in bottles." to return to our lieutenant, he "simply can't help being a little sorry for the boche now that his wild oats are coming home to roost." even his poetic friends, formerly soulful and precious, take this restrained view. the attributes of the enemy are thus summed up by one trench bard: if boches laughed and huns were gents, they'd own their share of continents; there'd be no fuss, and, what is more, there wouldn't even be a war. whereas the end of all this tosh can only be there'll be no boche. [illustration: the big push munition worker: "well, i'm not taking a holiday myself just yet, but i'm sending these kids of mine for a little trip on the continent."] another poet, an r.f.c. man, adopts the same vein, void alike of hate or exultation: returning from my morning fly i met a fokker in the sky, and, judging from its swift descent, it had a nasty accident. on thinking further of the same i rather fear i was to blame. it is easy to understand why the enemy nations find england so disappointing and unsatisfying to be at war with. italy, too, has had her big push on the isonzo, capturing monte sabotino, which had defied her for fifteen months, and gorizia--a triumph of scientific preparation and intrepid assault. the austrian poison-gas attack on the asiago plateau has been avenged, and the objectives of the long and ineffectual offensive of the previous winter carried with thousands of prisoners at a comparatively cheap price. to add to austria's humiliation her armies on the eastern front have been placed under the prussian hindenburg. and rumania has joined the allies at the end of what has been a very bad month for the central empires. english newspapers have been excluded from germany, and berlin has added truthless to meatless days. but the germans have long since found a substitute for veracity as well as for leather and butter and rubber and bread. they are said to have found a substitute for international law, and it is an open secret that they are even now in search of a substitute for victory. we might even suggest a few more substitutes which have not yet been utilised. as, for example, a substitute for verdun with the german flag flying over it; substitutes for several german colonies; a substitute for austria as an ally; and substitutes for kultur and organisation and efficiency and world power and the mailed fist and the crown prince and the kaiser and the war and all the things that haven't come off. various momentous decisions have been arrived at in parliament. the cabinet are _not_ to be cinematographed, and unnecessary taxi-whistling is to be suppressed, without any prejudice to the squealing of importunate chatterers below the gangway. ireland has again dominated the parliamentary scene; the nationalists have resumed their freedom of action with attacks on sir john maxwell and martial law, and are displaying an embarrassing industry reminiscent of the 'eighties. mr. ginnell has been removed by order of the speaker; mr. duke has succeeded mr. birrell; and the discussion of three irish bills has bulked so large that one might almost forget we were at war. in such brief moments as could be spared from irish affairs the premier has proposed a fresh vote of credit for 450 millions, has introduced a bill for extending the life of parliament, and another establishing a new register. the last has been unmercifully belaboured in debate, the prime minister himself describing it as "a halting, lopsided, temporary makeshift." the apparently insoluble problem is that of enabling soldiers in the trenches to exercise the franchise. soldiers and sailors can very well wait for their votes, but not for their money, and the delays in providing pensions for discharged men have been condemned by members of all parties. so the war is not altogether forgotten by the house. mr. lloyd george, the new war secretary, without wasting breath on the pessimistic comments of his colleague mr. churchill, has given an encouraging survey of the general situation. the cry has gone up that mr. hughes must come back from australia, and mr. swift macneill has been rewarded for his pertinacity by extracting a promise from mr. asquith that he will purge the peerage of its enemy dukes. better still is the solemn assurance of the premier that the government are taking steps to discover the identity of all those who are in any way responsible for the judicial murder of captain fryatt--the worst instance of calculated atrocity against non-combatants since the murder of nurse cavell. the education of our new armies is full of strange and noble surprises. now it is an ex-shop boy converted into an r.h.a. driver. or again it is a tommy learning to appreciate the heroism of a french peasant woman: 'er bloke's out scrappin' with the rest, pushin' a bay'net in argonne; she wears 'is photo on 'er breast, "_mon jean_," she sez--the french for john. she 'ears the guns boom night an' day; she sees the shrapnel burstin' black; the sweaty columns march away, the stretchers bringin' of 'em back. she ain't got no war-leggin's on; 'er picture's never in the press, out scoutin'. she finds breeks "_no bon_," an' carries on in last year's dress. at dawn she tows a spotty cow to graze upon the village green; she plods for miles be'ind a plough, an' takes our washin' in between. she tills a patch o' spuds besides, an' burnt like copper in the sun, she tosses 'ay all day, then rides the 'orse 'ome when the job is done. the times is 'ard--i got me woes, with blistered feet an' this an' that, an' she's got 'ers, the good lord knows, although she never chews the fat. but when the boche 'as gulped 'is pill, an' crawled 'ome to 'is bloomin' spree, we'll go upon the bust, we will, madame an' monsieur jean an' me. or once more it is the young officer shaving himself in a captured german dug-out before an old looking-glass looted from a _château_ by a dead german, and apologising to its rightful owner: madame, at the end of this long campaign, when france comes into her own again in the setting where only she can shine, as you in your mirror of rare design- forgive me, who dare in a german lair to shave in your mirror at pozières. then there are "lonely soldiers" in india, envious of their more fortunate comrades in flanders, and soldiers quite the reverse of lonely during their well-earned leave. [illustration: the captain: "your brother is doing splendidly in the battalion. before long he'll be our best man." the sister: "oh, reginald! really, this is so very sudden."] the education of those on the home front is also proceeding. there are some maids who announce the approach of zeppelins as if they were ordinary visitors. there are others who politely decline to exchange a seat at an attic window for the security of the basement. [illustration: mistress (coming to maid's room as the zeppelins approach): "jane! jane! won't you come downstairs with the rest of us?" little maid: "oh, thank you, mum, but i can see beautiful from here, mum."] according to the german papers prince frederick leopold of prussia has been severely reprimanded by the kaiser for permitting his wild swine to escape from their enclosure and damage neighbouring property. it would be interesting to know if prince leopold excused himself on the ground that he had merely followed the all highest's distinguished example. when princes are rebuked common editors cannot hope to escape censure. the editor of the _vorwärts_ has again been arrested, the reason given being that the newspaper does not truthfully represent germany's position in the war. if the title of the organ is any indication of its contents the charge would appear to be more than justified. _september, 1916_. "ian hay" wrote a fine book on "the first hundred thousand"--the first batch of kitchener's army. another book, equally glorious, remains to be written about another hundred thousand--the sweepers of the sea. and with them are to be reckoned the heroes of the little ships of whom we hear naught save the laconic record in a daily paper that "the small steamer -----struck a mine yesterday and sank," and that all the crew were lost: who to the deep in ships go down, great marvels do behold, but comes the day when some must drown in the grey sea and cold. for galleons lost great bells do toll, but now we must implore god's ear for sunken little ships who are not heard of more. when ships of war put out to sea, they go with guns and mail, that so the chance may equal be should foemen them assail; but little ships men's errands run, and are not clad for strife; god's mercy, then, on little ships who cannot fight for life. to warm and cure, to clothe and feed, they stoutly put to sea, and since that men of them had need made light of jeopardy; each in her hour her fate did meet, nor flinched nor made outcry; god's love be with these little ships who could not choose but die. to friar and nun, and every one who lives to save and tend, sisters were these whose work is done and cometh thus to end; full well they knew what risk they ran but still were strong to give; god's grace for all the little ships who died that men might live. september has brought us good tidings by land and air. thiepval and combles are ours, and the plague of the zeppelins has been stayed. the downing of the zepp at cuffley by lieutenant robinson gave north london the most thrilling aerial spectacle ever witnessed. there has been much diversity of opinion as to the safest place to be in during a zeppelin raid--under cover or in the open, on the top floor or in the basement; but recent experiences suggest that by far the most dangerous place on those occasions is in a zeppelin. but perhaps the most momentous event of the month has been the coming of the tanks, a most humorous and formidable addition to the _fauna_ of the battlefield--half battleship, half caterpillar--which have given the germans the surprise of their lives, a surprise all the more effective for being sudden and complete. the germans, no doubt, have their surprise packets in store for us, but we can safely predict that they are not likely to be at once so comic and so efficient as these unlovely but painstaking monsters. as an officer at the front writes to a friend: "these animals look so dreadfully competent, i am quite sure they can swim. thus, any day now, as you go to your business in the city, you may meet one of them trundling up ludgate hill, looking like nothing on earth and not behaving like a gentleman." as for the relations between the allies in the field the same correspondent contributes some enlightening details. the french aren't english and the english aren't french, and difficulties are bound to arise. the course of true love never did run smooth. here it started, as it generally does, with a rush; infatuation was succeeded by friction, and that in turn by the orthodox aftermath of reconciliation. "how do we stand now? we have settled down to one of those attachments which have such an eternity before them in the future that they permit of no gushing in the present." the war goes well on the western front, the worst news being the report that the kaiser has undertaken to refrain in future from active participation in the conduct of military operations. [illustration: the sweepers of the sea. mr. punch: "risky work, isn't it?" trawler skipper: "that's why there's a hundred thousand of us doin' it."] peace reigns at westminster, where legislators are agreeably conspicuous by their absence. but other agencies are active. according to an advertisement in the _nation_ the fabian research department have issued two reports, "together with a project for a supernatural authority that will prevent war." the egg, on the authority of the _daily mail_, is "disappearing from our breakfast table," but even the humblest of us can still enjoy our daily mare's nest. the effect of the zeppelin on the young has already been shown; but even the elderly own its stimulating influence. _october, 1916_. mr. punch's correspondents at the front have an incorrigible habit of euphemism and levity. even when things go well they are never betrayed into heroics, but adhere to the schoolboy formula of "not half bad," just as in the blackest hours they would not admit that things were more than "pretty beastly." yet sometimes they deviate for a moment into really enlightening comment. no better summary of the situation as it stands in the third year of the war can be given than in the words of the faithful "watch-dog," who has long been on duty in trench and dug-out and crater-hole:-"this war has ceased to become an occupation befitting a gentleman--gentleman, that is, of the true prussian breed. it was a happy and honourable task so long as it consisted of civilising the world at large with high explosive, poisonous gas and burning oil, and the world at large was not too ready to answer back. to persist in this stern business, in face of the foolish and ignoble obstinacy of the adversary, required great courage and strength of mind; but the prussian is essentially courageous and strong. things came to a pretty pass, however, when the wicked adversary made himself some guns and shells and took to being stern on his own. people who behave like that, especially after they have been conquered, are not to be mixed with--anything to keep aloof from such. one had to leave combles, one had to leave thiepval, one may even have to leave bapaume to avoid the pest; these nasty french and english persons, with their disgusting tanks, intrude everywhere nowadays." the german engineer is being hoist with his own petard: yet you may suck sweet solace from the thought that not in vain the seed was sown, that half the recent havoc we have wrought was based on methods all your own; and smile to hear our heavy batteries pound you with imitation's purest flatteries. yet, at best, this is sorry comfort for the kaiser. [illustration: the rejuvenating effect of zeppelins] it is not a picnic for the men in our front line. reports that the situation is "normal" or "quiet" or "uneventful" represent more or less correctly what is happening at g.h.q., divisional headquarters, brigade headquarters, or even battalion headquarters. they represent understatement to the _n_th when applied to the front trenches. but listen again to the "watch-dog." he admits that some of our diamonds are not smooth, but adds "for myself i welcome every touch of nature in these our warriors. it is good to be in the midst of them, for they thrive as never before, and their comforts are few enough these wet bloody days." the crown prince, after seven months of ineffective carnage before verdun, has been giving an interview to an american ex-clergyman, representing the hearst anti-british newspapers, in which he appears in the light of a tender-hearted philanthropist, longing for peace, mercy, and the delights of home-life. mr. lloyd george, in an interview with an american journalist, has defined our policy as that of delivering a "knock out" to prussian military despotism, a pugilistic metaphor which has wounded some of our pacificists. our zeppelin bag is growing; count zeppelin has sworn to destroy london or die, but now that john bull is getting his eye in, the oath savours of suicide. [illustration: the sunlight-loser kaiser (as his sainted grandfather's clock strikes three): "the british are just putting their clocks back an hour. i wish i could put ours back about three years."] the allies have presented an ultimatum to greece, but mr. asquith's appeal to the traditions of ancient hellas is wasted on king constantine, who, if he had lived in the days of marathon and salamis, would undoubtedly have been a pro-persian. as for his future, mr. punch ventures on a prediction: tino, if some day hellas should arise a phoenix soaring from her present cinders, think not to share her passage to the skies or furnish purple copy for her pindars; you'll be in exile, if you don't take care, along with brother william, lord knows where! a couple of months ago, on the occasion of sharks appearing on the atlantic coast of the u.s.a., it was freely intimated at the fashionable watering-places that there was such a thing as being too proud to bathe. now a new and untimely irritant has turned up off the same shores in the shape of u-boats. their advent is all the more inconsiderate in view of the impending presidential election, at which mr. wilson's claim is based on having kept america out of the war. [illustration: comrades in victory combles, september 26th poilu: "bravo, mon vieux!" tommy: "same to you, mate."] members have returned to st. stephen's refreshed by seven weeks' holiday, and the nationalists have been recruiting their energies, but unfortunately nothing else, in ireland. by way of signalising his restoration, after an apology, mr. ginnell handed in thirty-nine questions--the fruits of his enforced leisure. the woes of the interned sinn feiners who have been condemned to sleep in a disused distillery at frongoch have been duly brought forward and the house invited to declare that "the system of government at present maintained in ireland is inconsistent with the principles for which the allies are fighting in europe." the system of administration in ireland is, and always has been, inconsistent with any settled principles whatsoever; but to propose such a motion now is equivalent to affirming that ireland is being treated by great britain as belgium and poland and serbia have been treated by germany. mr. redmond made no attempt to prove this absurd thesis, but when he demanded that martial law should be withdrawn and the interned rebels let loose in a home-ruled ireland--while the embers of the rebellion were still dangerously smouldering--he asked too much even of that amicable and trustful beast, the british lion. mr. duke is not exactly a sparkling orator, but he said one thing which needed saying, namely, that irishmen ought to work out a scheme of home rule for themselves, and lay it before parliament, instead of expecting englishmen to do their work for them and then complaining of the result. in the division-lobby the nationalists received the assistance of some forty or fifty british members, who supported the motion, mr. punch suspects, more out of hatred of the coalition than of love for ireland. but they were easily out-voted by british home rulers alone. the impression left by the debate was that the nationalist members had a great deal more sympathy with the sinn feiners than they had with the innocent victims of the rebellion. [illustration: mother: "come away, jimmy! maybe it ain't properly stuffed."] the need of a war propaganda at home is illustrated by the answers to correspondents in the _leeds mercury_. "reasonable questions" are invited, and here is one of the answers: "t.b.--no, it is not general sir william robertson, but the rev. sir william robertson nicoll who edits _the british weekly_." but then, as another journal pathetically observes, "about nine-tenths of what we say is of no earthly importance to anybody." further light is thrown on this confession by the claim of an islington applicant for exemption: "once i was a circus clown, but now i am on an evening newspaper." we are grateful to russia for her efforts, but, as our artist shows above, the plain person is apparently uncertain as to the quality of our ally. we are glad to learn that, on the suggestion of mr. asquith, the lord mayor's banquet will be "of a simple nature." apropos of diet, an officer expecting leave writes: "my london programme is fixed; first a turkish bath, and then a nice fried sole." history repeats itself. a fried sole was the luxury which officers who served in the boer war declared that they enjoyed most of all after their campaigning. _november, 1916._ francis joseph of austria has died on the tottering throne which has been his for nearly seventy years. in early days he had been hated, but he had shown valour. later on he had shown wisdom, and had been pitied for his misfortunes. it was a crowning irony of fate which condemned him in old age to become the dupe and tool of an assassin. he should have died before the war--certainly before the tragedy of sarajevo. the british push has extended to the ancre, and the crown prince, reduced to the position of a pawn in hindenburg's game, maintains a precarious hold on the remote suburbs of verdun. well may he be sick, after nine months of futile carnage, of a name which already ranks in renown with thermopylae. as the credit of the crown prince wanes, so the cult of hindenburg waxes. [illustration: hindenburgitis; or, the prussian home made beautiful] monastir has been recaptured by the serbians and french; but germany has had her victories too, and, continuing her warfare against the red cross, has sunk two hospital ships. germany's u-boat policy is going to win her the war. at least so marshal hindenburg says, and the view is shared by that surprising person the neutral journalist. but in the meantime it subjects the affections of the neutral sailorman to a severe trial. king constantine, however, remains unshaken in his devotion to german interests. he has also shown marked originality by making up a cabinet exclusively composed of university professors. but some critics scent in his action a hint of compulsory ministerial service, and predict labour troubles. at home we have to note the steady set of the tide of public opinion in favour of food control. the name of the dictator is not yet declared, but the announcement cannot be long postponed. whoever he may be, he is not to be envied. we have also to note the steady growth on every side of government bungalows--the haunts (if some critics are to be believed) of the great uncombed, even of the hidden hand. the men of forty-one were not wanted last march. mr. lloyd george tells us that they are wanted now, or it would mean the loss of two army corps. the germans, by the way, appear to be arriving at a just conception of their relative value. lord newton has informed the lords that the enemy is prepared to release 600 english civilian prisoners in return for some 4,000 to 7,000 germans. parliament has developed a new grievance: ministers have confided to pressmen information denied to m.p.'s. and a cruel wrong has been done to erin, according to mr. dillon, by the application of greenwich time to ireland, by which that country has been compelled to surrender its precious privilege of being twenty-five minutes behind the times. the injustice is so bitter that it has reconciled mr. dillon and mr. healy. the premier has hinted that if the house insisted on having fuller information than it receives at present another secret session might be held. when one considers the vital problems on which parliament now concentrates its energies--the supply of cocaine to dentists, the withholding of pictures of the tanks, etc.--one feels that there should be a secret session at least once a week. indeed, if the house were to sit permanently with closed doors, unobserved and unreported, the country might be all the better for it. [illustration: a strain on the affections norwegian (to swede): "what--you here, too. i thought you were a friend of germany?" swede: "i was."] it is the fashion in some quarters to make out that fathers do not realise the sacrifice made by their sons, but complacently acquiesce in it while they sit comfortably at home over the fire. mr. punch has not met these fathers. the fathers--and still more the mothers--that he knows recognise only too well the unpayable nature of their debt. they held, against the storms of fate, in war's tremendous game, a little land inviolate within a world of flame. they looked on scarred and ruined lands, on shell-wrecked fields forlorn, and gave to us, with open hands, full fields of yellow corn; the silence wrought in wood and stone whose aisles our fathers trod; the pines that stand apart, alone, like sentinels of god. with generous hands they paid the price, unconscious of the cost, but we must gauge the sacrifice by all that they have lost. the joy of young adventurous ways, of keen and undimmed sight, the eager tramp through sunny days, the dreamless sleep of night, the happy hours that come and go, in youth's untiring quest, they gave, because they willed it so, with some light-hearted jest. no lavish love of future years, no passionate regret, no gift of sacrifice or tears can ever pay the debt. yet if ever you try to express this indebtedness to the wonderful young men who survive, they turn the whole thing into a jest and tell you, for example, that only two things really interest them, "europe and their stomachs"--nothing in between matters. [illustration: pat (examining fare): "may the divil destroy the germans!" sub: "well, they don't do you much harm, anyway. you don't get near enough to 'em." pat: "do they not, thin? have they not kilt all the half-crown officers and left nothing but the shillin' ones?"] guy fawkes day has come and gone without fireworks, pursuant to the defence of the realm act. even parliament omitted to sit. apropos of secret sessions, lord northcliffe has been accused of having had one all to himself and some five hundred other gentlemen at a club luncheon. the _daily mail_ describes the debate on the subject as a "gross waste of time," which seems to come perilously near _lèse-majesté!_ but then, as a writer in the _evening news_--another northcliffe paper--safely observes, "it is the failing of many people to say what they think without thinking." _december, 1916_. rumania has unhappily given germany the chance of a cheap and spectacular triumph--of which, after being badly pounded on the somme, she was sorely in need. here was a comparatively small nation, whom the germans could crush under their heel as they had crushed belgium and serbia. so in rumania they concentrated all the men they could spare from other fronts and put them under their best generals. their first plans were thwarted, but eventually the big guns had their way and bukarest fell. then, after the usual display of bunting and joy-bells in berlin, was the moment to make a noble offer of peace. the german peace overtures remind one of mr. punch's correspondents of the american advertisement: "if john robinson, with whose wife i eloped six months ago, will take her back, all will be forgiven." the shadowy proposals of those who preach humanity while they practise unrestricted frightfulness have not deceived the allies. they know, and have let the enemy know, that they must go on until they have made sure of an enduring peace by reducing the central empires to impotence for evil. when mr. asquith announced in the house on december 4 the king's approval of reconstruction, few members guessed that in twenty-four hours he would have ceased to be prime minister and that mr. lloyd george would have begun cabinet-making. there has been much talk of intrigue. but john bull doesn't care who leads the country so long as he leads it to victory. and as for certain people somewhere in france, we shall probably not be far wrong in interpreting their view of the present change as follows: thank god, we keep no politicians here; fighting's our game, not talking; all we ask is men and means to face the coming year and consummate our task. give us the strongest leaders you can find, tory or liberal, not a toss care we, so they are swift to act and know their mind too well to wait and see. [illustration: the return of the mock turtle-dove kaiser } }(breathlessly): "well?" bethmann-hollweg} the bird: "wouldn't even look at me!"] the ultimate verdict on mr. asquith's services to the state as prime minister for the first two and a half years of the war will not be founded on the press campaign which has helped to secure his downfall. but, as one of the most bitterly and unjustly assailed ex-ministers has said, "personal reputations must wait till the end of the war." meanwhile, we have a premier who, whatever his faults, cannot be charged with supineness. [illustration: the new conductor opening of the 1917 overture] mr. bonar law, the new leader of the house, has made his first appearance as chancellor of the exchequer. moving a further vote of credit for 400 millions, he disclosed the fact that the daily cost of the war was nearer six than five millions. in regard to the peace proposals he found himself unable to better the late prime minister's statement that the allies would require "adequate reparation for the past and adequate security for the future." in lucidity and dignity of statement mr. asquith was certainly above criticism. lord devonport has been appointed food controller and warned us of rigours to come. the most thrilling speech heard at westminster this month has been that of major willie redmond, fresh from the invigorating atmosphere of the front. while some seventy odd nationalist members are mainly occupied in brooding over ireland's woes, two are serving in the trenches--william redmond and stephen gwynn, both of them middle-aged men. _o si sic omnes_! our wounded need all their patience to put up with the curiosity of non-combatants. a lady, after asking a tommy on leave what the stripes on his arm were for, being told that they were one for each time he was wounded, is reported to have observed, "dear me! how extraordinary that you should be wounded three times in the same place!" even real affection is not always happily expressed. [illustration: "have you brought me any souvenirs?" "only this little bullet that the doctor took out of my side." "i wish it had been a german helmet."] the tenderness with which king constantine is still treated, even after the riot in athens in which our bluejackets have been badly mishandled, is taxing the patience of moderate men. mr. punch, for example, exasperated by the cumulative effect of tino's misdeeds, has been goaded into making a formidable forecast of surrender or exit: you say your single aim is just to use your regal gifts for your beloved nation; why, then, i see the obvious line to choose, meaning, of course, the path of abdication; make up your so-called mind--i frankly would- to leave your country for your country's good. the german emperor was prevented from being present at the funeral of the late emperor francis joseph by a chill. one is tempted to think that in a lucid interval of self-criticism william of hohenzollern may have wished to spare his aged victim this crowning mockery. motto for meatless days: "the time is out of joint." this is a _raison de plus_ for establishing an _entente_ in the kitchen and getting marianne to show britannia how to cook a cabbage. _january, 1917_. though the chariots of war still drive heavily, 1917 finds the allies in good heart--"war-weary but war-hardened." the long agony of verdun has ended in triumph for the french, and great britain has answered the peace talk of berlin by calling a war conference of the empire. the new year has brought us a new prime minister, a new cabinet, a new style of minister. captains of commerce are diverted from their own business for the benefit of the country. in spite of all rumours to the contrary lord northcliffe remains outside the new government, but his interest in it is, at present, friendly. it is very well understood, however, that everyone must behave. and in this context mr. punch feels that a tribute is due to the outgoing premier. always reserved and intent, he discouraged press gossip to such a degree as actually to have turned the key on the tenth muse. interviewers had no chance. he came into office, held it and left it without a single concession to demos' love of personalia. [illustration: the dawn of doubt gretchen: "i wonder if this gentleman really is my good angel after all!"] germany has not yet changed her chancellor, though he is being bitterly attacked for his "silly ideas of humanity"--and her rulers have certainly shown no change of heart. general von bissing's retirement from belgium is due to health, not repentance. the kaiser still talks of his "conscience" and "courage" in freeing the world from the pressure which weighs upon all. he is still the same kaiser and constantine the same "tino," who, as the _berliner tageblatt_ bluntly remarks, "has as much right to be heard as a common criminal." yet signs are not wanting of misgivings in the german people. mr. wilson has launched a new phrase on the world--"peace without victory"; but war is not going to be ended by phrases, and the man who is doing more than anyone else to end it--the british infantryman--has no use for them: the gunner rides on horseback, he lives in luxury, the sapper has his dug-out as cushy as can be, the flying man's a sportsman, but his home's a long way back, in painted tent or straw-spread barn or cosy little shack; gunner and sapper and flying man (and each to his job say i) have tickled the hun with mine or gun or bombed him from on high, but the quiet work, and the dirty work, since ever the war began, is the work that never shows at all, the work of the infantryman. the guns can pound the villages and smash the trenches in, and the hun is fain for home again when the t.m.b.s begin, and the vickers gun is a useful one to sweep a parapet, but the real work is the work that's done with bomb and bayonet. load him down from heel to crown with tools and grub and kit, he's always there where the fighting is--he's there unless he's hit; over the mud and the blasted earth he goes where the living can; he's in at the death while he yet has breath, the british infantryman! trudge and slip on the shell-hole's lip, and fall in the clinging mire- steady in front, go steady! close up there! mind the wire! double behind where the pathways wind! jump clear of the ditch, jump clear! lost touch at the back? oh, halt in front! and duck when the shells come near! carrying parties all night long, all day in a muddy trench, with your feet in the wet and your head in the rain and the sodden khaki's stench! then over the top in the morning, and onward all you can- this is the work that wins the war, the work of the infantryman. and if anyone should think that this means the permanent establishment of militarism in our midst let him be comforted by the saying of an old sergeant-major when asked to give a character of one of his men. "he's a good man in the trenches, and a good man in a scrap; but you'll never make a soldier of him." the new armies fight all the harder because they want to make an end not of this war but of all wars. as for the regulars, there is no need to enlarge on their valour. but it is pleasant to put on record the description of an officer's servant which has reached mr. punch from france: "valet, cook, porter, boots, chamber-maid, ostler, carpenter, upholsterer, mechanic, inventor, needlewoman, coalheaver, diplomat, barber, linguist (home-made), clerk, universal provider, complete pantechnicon and infallible bodyguard, he is also a soldier, if a very old soldier, and a man of the most human kind." parliament is not sitting, but there is, unfortunately, no truth in the report that in order to provide billets for 5,000 new typists and incidentally to win the war, the government has commandeered the houses of parliament. the _times literary supplement_ received 335 books of original verse in 1916, and it is rumoured that mr. edward marsh may very shortly take up his duties as minister of poetry and the fine arts. mr. marsh has not yet decided whether he will appoint mr. asquith or mr. winston churchill as his private secretary. meanwhile, a full list of the private secretaries of the new private secretaries of the members of the new government may at any moment be disclosed to a long suffering public. on the home front the situation shows that a famous literary critic was also a true prophet: o matthew arnold! you were right: we need more sweetness and more light; for till we break the brutal foe, our sugar's short, our lights are low. the domestic problem daily grows more acute. a maid, who asked for a rise in her wages to which her mistress demurred, explained that the gentleman she walked out with had just got a job in a munition factory and she would be obliged to dress up to him. [illustration: cook (who, after interview with prospective mistress, is going to think it over): "'ullo! prambilator! if you'd told me you 'ad children i needn't have troubled meself to 'ave come." the prospective mistress: "oh! b-but if you think the place would otherwise suit you, i dare say we could board the children out."] maids are human, however, though their psychology is sometimes disconcerting. one who was told by her mistress not to worry because her young man had gone into the trenches responded cheerfully, "oh, no, ma'am, i've left off worrying now. he can't walk out with anyone else while he's there." [illustration: the recruit who took to it kindly] _february_ 1917, the rulers of germany--the kaiser and his war-lords--proclaimed themselves the enemies of the human race in the first weeks of the war. but it has taken two years and a half to break down the apparently inexhaustible patience of the greatest of the neutrals. a year and three-quarters has elapsed since the sinking of the _lusitania_. the forbearance of president wilson--in the face of accumulated insults, interference in the internal politics of the united states, the promotion of strikes and _sabotage_ by the agents of count bernstorff--has exposed him to hard and even bitter criticism from his countrymen. perhaps he over-estimated the strength of the german-american and pacificist elements. but his difficulties are great, and his long suffering diplomacy has at least this merit, that if america enters the war it will be as a united people. germany's decision to resort to unrestricted submarine warfare on february 1 is the last straw: now even mr. henry ford has offered to place his works at the disposal of the american authorities. day by day we read long lists of merchant vessels sunk by u-boats, and while the admiralty's reticence on the progress of the anti-submarine campaign is legitimate and necessary, the withholding of statistics of new construction does not make for optimism. victory will be ours, but not without effort. the great crisis of the war is not passed. that has been the burden of all the speeches at the opening of parliament from the king's downward. lord curzon, who declared that we were now approaching "the supreme and terrible climax of the war," has spoken of the late duke of norfolk as a man "diffident about powers which were in excess of the ordinary." is not that true of the british race as a whole? only now, under the stress of a long-drawn-out conflict, is it discovering the variety and strength of its latent forces. the tide is turning rapidly in mesopotamia. general maude, who never failed to inspire the men under his command on the western front with a fine offensive spirit, has already justified his appointment by capturing kut, and starting on a great drive towards baghdad. [illustration: the last throw] on the salonika front, to quote from one of mr. punch's ever-increasing staff of correspondents, "all our prospects are pleasing and only bulgar vile." on the western front the british have taken grandcourt, and our "mudlarks," encamped on an ocean of ooze, preserve a miraculous equanimity in spite of the attention of rats and cockroaches and the vagaries of the transport mule. [illustration: head of government department (in his private room in recently commandeered hotel): "boy! bring some more coal!"] at home the commandeering of hotels to house the new ministries proceeds apace, and a request from an inquiring peer for a comprehensive return of all the buildings requisitioned and the staffs employed has been declined on the ground that to provide it would put too great a strain on officials engaged on work essential to winning the war. the criticisms on the late cabinet for its bloated size have certainly not led to any improvement in this respect, and one of the late ministers has complained that the administration has been further magnified until, if all its members, including under-secretaries, were present, they would fill not one but three treasury benches. already this is a much congested district at question-time and the daily scene of a great push. up to the present there are, however, only thirty-three actual ministers of the crown, and their salaries only amount to the trifle of £133,000. the setting up of a war cabinet, "a body utterly unknown to the law," has excited the resentment of mr. swift macneill, whose reverence for the constitution (save in so far as it applies to ireland) knows no bounds; and mr. lynch has expressed the view that it would be a good idea if ireland were specially represented at the peace conference, in order that her delegates might assert her right to self-government. england, in february, 1917, seems to deserve the title of "the great loan land." amateurs of anagrams have found satisfaction in the identity of "bonar law" with "war loan b." as a cynic has remarked, "in the midst of life we are in debt." but the champions of national economy are not happy. the staff of the new pensions minister, it is announced, will be over two thousand. it is still hoped, however, that there may be a small surplus which can be devoted to the needs of disabled soldiers. our great warriors are in danger of being swamped by our small but innumerable officials. [illustration: <b>a plain duty</b> "well, good-bye, old chap, and good luck! i'm going in here to do my bit, the best way i can. the more everybody scrapes together for the war loan, the sooner you'll be back from the trenches."] the older universities, given over for two years to wounded soldiers and a handful of physically unfit or coloured undergraduates, are regaining a semblance of life by the housing of cadet battalions in some colleges. the rhodes scholars have all joined up, and normal academic life is still in abeyance: in tom his quad the bloods no longer flourish; balliol is bare of all but mild hindoos; the stalwart oars that isis used to nourish are in the trenches giving fritz the blues, and many a stout d.d. is digging trenches with the v.t.c. [illustration: the brothers tingo, who are exempted from military service, do their bit by helping to train ladies who are going on the land.] it is true that mr. bernard shaw has visited the front. no reason is assigned for this rash act, and too little has been made of the fact that he wore khaki just like an ordinary person. amongst other signs of the times we note that women are to be licensed as taxi-drivers: war has taught the truth that shines through the poet's noble lines: "common are to either sex _artifex and opifex_." a new danger is involved in the spread of the army signalling alphabet. the names of societies are threatened. the dignity of degrees is menaced by a code which converts b.a. into beer ack. initials are no longer sacred, and the great t.p. will become toc pip o'connor, unless some emma pip introduces a bill to prevent the sacrilege. _march,_ 1917. with the end of tsardom in russia, the fall of baghdad, and the strategic retreat of hindenburg on the western front, all crowded into one month, march fully maintains its reputation for making history at the expense of caesars and kaisers. it seems only the other day when the tsar's assumption of the title of generalissimo lent new strength to the legend of the "little father." but the forces of "unholy russia"--pro-german ministers and the sinister figure of rasputin--have combined to his undoing, and now none is so poor to do him reverence. in the house of commons everybody seems pleased, including mr. devlin, who has been quite statesmanlike in his appreciation, and the prime minister, in one of his angelic visits to the house, evoked loud cheers by describing the revolution as one of the landmarks in the history of the world. but no one noticed that sir henry campbell-bannerman's outburst in 1906, just after the dissolution of russia's first elected parliament: "_la duma est morte; vive la duma_! " has now been justified by the event--at any rate for the moment, for revolutions are rich in surprises and reactions. the capture of baghdad inspires no misgivings, except in the bosoms of nationalist members, who detect in the manifesto issued by general maude fresh evidences of british hypocrisy. the fleet of dutch merchantmen, which has been sunk by a waiting submarine, sailed under a german guarantee of "relative security." germany is so often misunderstood. it should be obvious by this time that her attitude to international law has always been one of approximate reverence. the shells with which she bombarded rheims cathedral were contingent shells, and the _lusitania_ was sunk by a relative torpedo. neutrals all over the world, who are smarting just now under a fresh manifestation of germany's respective goodwill, should try to realise before they take any action what is the precise situation of our chief enemy: he has (relatively) won the war; he has (virtually) broken the resistance of the allies; he has (conditionally) ample supplies for his people; in particular he is (morally) rich in potatoes. his finances at first sight appear to be pretty heavily involved, but that soon will be adjusted by (hypothetical) indemnities; he has enormous (proportional) reserves of men; he has (theoretically) blockaded great britain, and his final victory is (controvertibly) at hand. but his most impressive argument, which cannot fail to come home to hesitating neutrals, is to be found in his latest exhibition of offensive power, namely, in his (putative) advance--upon the ancre. a grave statement made by the under-secretary for war as to the recent losses of the royal flying corps on the western front and the increased activity of the german airmen has created some natural depression. the command of the air fluctuates, but the spirit of our airmen is a sure earnest that the balance will be redressed in our favour. mr. punch has already paid his tribute to the british infantryman. let him now do his homage to the heroes whose end is so often disguised under the laconic announcement: "one of our machines did not return." [illustration: also ran wilhelm: "are you luring them on, like me?" mehmed: "i'm afraid i am!"] i like to think it did not fall to earth, a wounded bird that trails a broken wing, but to the heavenly blue that gave it birth, faded in silence, a mysterious thing, cleaving its radiant course where honour lies like a winged victory mounting to the skies. the clouds received it, and the pathless night; swift as a flame, its eager force unspent, we saw no limit to its daring flight; only its pilot knew the way it went, and how it pierced the maze of flickering stars straight to its goal in the red planet mars. so to the entrance of that fiery gate, borne by no current, driven by no breeze, knowing no guide but some compelling fate, bold navigators of uncharted seas, courage and youth went proudly sweeping by, to win the unchallenged freedom of the sky. parliament has been occupied with many matters, from the report of the dardanelles commission to the grievances of scots bee-keepers. the woes of ireland have not been forgotten, and the nationalists have been busily engaged in getting home rule out of cold storage. hitherto every attempt of the british sisyphus to roll the stone of destiny up the hill of tara has found a couple of irishmen at the top ready to roll it down again. let us hope that this time they will co-operate to install it there as the throne of a loyal and united ireland. believers in the "hidden hand" have been on the war-path, and as a result of prolonged discussion as to the responsibility for the failure of the effort to force the dardanelles, the house is evidently of opinion that lord fisher might now be let alone by foes and friends. the idea of blaming _queen elisabeth_ for the fiasco is so entirely satisfactory to all parties concerned that one wonders why the commission couldn't have thought of that itself. [illustration: the infectious hornpipe] mr. bernard shaw, returned from his "joy-ride" at the front, has declared that "there is no monument more enduring than brass"; the general feeling, however, is that there is a kind of brass that is beyond enduring. armageddon is justified since it has given him a perfectly glorious time. he is obliged, in honesty, to state that the style of some of the buildings wrecked by the germans was quite second rate. he entered and emerged from the battle zone without any vulgar emotion; remaining immune from pity, sorrow, or tears. in short: he went through the fiery furnace, but never a hair was missed from the heels of our most colossal arch-super-egotist. according to the latest news from sofia, 35,000 bulgarian geese are to be allowed to go to germany. as in the case of the bulgarian fox who went to vienna, there appears to be little likelihood that they will ever return. [illustration: food restriction scene: hotel. little girl: "oh, mummy! they've given me a dirty plate." mother: "hush, darling. that's the soup."] apropos of food supplies, lord devonport has developed a sense of judicial humour, having approved a new dietary for prisoners, under which the bread ration will be cut down to 63 ounces per week, or just one ounce less than the allowance of the free and independent englishman. the latest morning greeting is now: "_comment vous devonportez-vous?_" _april_, 1917. once more the rulers of germany have failed to read the soul of another nation. they thought there was no limit to america's forbearance, and they thought wrong. america is now "all in" on the side of the allies. the stars and stripes and the union jack are flying side by side over the houses of parliament. on the motion introduced in both houses to welcome our new ally, mr. bonar law, paraphrasing canning, declared that the new world had stepped in to redress the balance of the old; mr. asquith, with a fellow-feeling, no doubt, lauded the patience which had enabled president wilson to carry with him a united nation; and lord curzon quoted bret harte. the memory of some unfortunate phrases is obliterated by the president's historic message to congress, and his stirring appeal to his countrymen to throw their entire weight into the allied scale. the war, physically as well as morally, is now _germania contra mundum_. yet, while we hail the advent of a powerful and determined ally, there is no disposition to throw up our hats. the raw material of manpower in america is magnificent in numbers and quality, but it has to be equipped and trained and brought across the atlantic. many months, perhaps a whole year, must elapse before its weight can be felt on the battle front. the transport of a million men over submarine-infested seas is no easy task. but while we must wait for the coming of the americans on land, their help in patrolling the seas may be counted on speedily. [illustration: the new-comer: "my village, i think?" the one in possession: "sorry, old thing; i took it half-an-hour ago."] [illustration: swooping from the west (_it is the intention of our new ally to assist us in the patrolling of the atlantic_.)] the british have entered péronne; the canadians have captured vimy ridge. but the full extent of german frightfulness has never been so clearly displayed as in their retreat. here, for once, the german account of their own doings is true. "in the course of these last months great stretches of french territory have been turned by us into a dead country. it varies in width from 10 to 12 or 13 kilometres, and extends along the whole of our new positions. no village or farm was left standing, no road was left passable, no railway track or embankment was left in being. where once were woods, there are gaunt rows of stumps; the wells have been blown up.... in front of our new positions runs, like a gigantic ribbon, our empire of death" (_lokal anzeiger_, march 18, 1917). the general opinion of the boche among the british troops is that he is only good at one thing, and that is destroying other people's property. one of mr. punch's correspondents writes to say that while the flattened villages and severed fruit trees are a gruesome spectacle, for him "all else was forgotten in speechless admiration of the french people. "their self-restraint and adaptability are beyond words. these hundreds of honest people, just relieved from the domineering of the master swine, and restored to their own good france again, were neither hysterical nor exhausted." the names of the new german lines--wotan and siegfried and hunding--are not without significance. we accept the omen: it will not be long before we hear of fresh german activities in the _götterdämmerung_ line. count reventlow has informed the kaiser that without victory a continuation of the monarchy is improbable. the "repercussion" of revolution is making itself felt. even the crown prince is reported to have felt misgivings as to the infection of anti-monarchial ideas, and mr. punch is moved to forecast possibilities of upheaval: not that the teuton's stolid wits are built to plan so rude a plot; somehow i cannot picture fritz careering as a _sans-culotte_; schooled to obedience, hand and heart, i can imagine nothing odder than such behaviour on the part of inoffensive cannon-fodder. and yet one never really knows. you cannot feed his massive trunk on fairy tales of beaten foes, or hindenburg's "victorious" bunk; and if his rations run too short through this accursed british blockade, even the worm may turn and sport a revolutionary cockade. on the german roll of dishonour this month appears the name of one who has been _grande et conspicuum nostro quoque tempore monstrum_. baron moritz ferdinand von bissing, the german military governor-general of belgium, who was largely responsible for the murder of nurse cavell and the chief instigator of the infamous belgian deportations, after being granted a rest from his labours, is reported to have died "of overwork." here for once we find ourselves in perfect agreement with the official german view. in a recent character sketch of the deceased baron, the _cologne gazette_ observed, "he is a fine musician, and his execution was good." it would have been. the proceedings in parliament do not call for extended comment. mr. asquith has handsomely recanted his hostility to women's suffrage, admitting that by their splendid services in the war women have worked out their own electoral salvation. an old spelling-book used to tell us that "it is agreeable to watch the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar when gauging the symmetry of a peeled pear." lord devonport, occupied in deciding on the exact architecture and decoration of the bath bun (official sealed pattern), would make a companion picture. for the rest the house has been occupied with the mysteries of combing and re-combing. the best war saying of the month was that of mr. swift macneill, in reference to proposed peace overtures, that it would be time enough to talk about peace when the germans ceased to blow up hospital ships. [illustration: dynastic amenities little willie (of prussia): "as one crown prince to another, isn't your hindenburg line getting a bit shaky?" rupprecht (of bavaria): "well, as one crown prince to another, what about your hohenzollern line?"] although the streets may have been sweetened by the absence of posters, days will come, it must be remembered, when we shall badly miss them. it goes painfully to one's heart to think that the embargo, if it is ever lifted, will not be lifted in time for most of the events which we all most desire--events that clamour to be recorded in the largest black type, such as "strasbourg french again," "flight of the crown prince," "revolution in germany," "the kaiser a captive," and last and best of all, "peace." but mr. punch, with many others, has no sympathy to spare for the sorrows of the headline artist deprived for the time being of his chief opportunity of scaremongering. in the competition of heroism and self-sacrifice the prize must fall to the young--to the tommy and the second lieutenant before all. yet a very good mark is due to the retired admirals who have accepted commissions in the r.n.r., and are mine-sweeping or submarine-hunting in command of trawlers. yes, "captain dug-out, r.n.r.," is a fine disproof of _si vieillesse pouvait_. [illustration: torpedoed mine-sweeper (to his pal): "as i was a-saying, bob, when we was interrupted, it's my belief as 'ow the submarine blokes ain't on 'arf as risky a job as the boys in the airy-o-planes."] according to the _pall mall gazette_, mr. lloyd george's double was seen at cardiff the other day. the suggestion that there are two lloyd georges has caused consternation among the german headquarters staff. but we are not exempt from troubles and anxieties in england. the bones of a woolly rhinoceros have been dug up twenty-three feet below the surface at high wycombe, and very strong language has been used in the locality concerning this gross example of food-hoarding. the weather, too, has been behaving oddly. on one day of eastertide there was an inch of snow in liverpool, followed by hailstones, lightning, thunder, and a gale of wind. summer has certainly arrived very early. but at least we are to be spared a general election this year--for fear that it might clash with the other war. _may_, 1917. in england, once but no longer merry though not downhearted, in this once merry month of may, the question of food and food production now dominates all others. it is the one subject that the house of commons seems to care about. john bull, who has invested a mint of money in other lands, realises that it is high time that he put something into his own--in the shape of corn bounties. mr. prothero, in moving the second reading of the corn production bill, while admitting that he had originally been opposed to state interference with agriculture, showed all the zeal of the convert--to the dismay of the hard-shell free traders. the food controller asks us to curtail our consumption of bread by one-fourth. here, at least, non-combatants have an opportunity of showing themselves to be as good patriots as the germans and of earning the epitaph: "much as he loved the staff of life, he loved his country even more." [illustration: "no, dear, i'm afraid we shan't be at the dance to-night. poor herbert has got a touch of allotment feet."] on the western front the german soldiers' opinion of "retirement according to plan" may be expressed as "each for himself and the devil take the hindenburg." one of them, recently taken prisoner, actually wrote, "when we go to the front we become the worst criminals." this generous attempt to shield his superiors deserves to be appreciated, but it does not dispel the belief that the worst criminals are still a good way behind the german lines. the inspired german press has now got to the point of asserting that "there is no hindenburg line." well, that implies prophetic sense: and if a british prophet may adopt their graphic present tense, i would remark--and so forestall a truth they'll never dare to trench on- _there is no hindenburg at all, or none worth mention_. according to our watch dog correspondent, recent movements show that the lawless german "has attained little by his destructiveness save the discomfort of h.q. otherwise the war progresses as merrily as ever; more merrily, perhaps, owing to the difficulties to be overcome. soldiers love difficulties to overcome. that is their business in life." this is the way that young officers write "in the brief interludes snatched from hard fighting and hard fatigues." their letters "never pretend to be more than the gay and cynical banter of those who bring to the perils of life at the front an incurable habit of humour, and they are typical of that brave spirit, essentially english, that makes light of the worst that fate can send." that is how one brave officer wrote of the letters of a dead comrade to _punch_ only a few weeks before his own death. [illustration: a bad dream spectre: "well, if you don't like the look of me, eat less bread."] the french have taken craonne; saluting has been abolished in the russian army; and germany has been giving practical proof of her friendliness to spain by torpedoing her merchant ships. a new star has swum into the revolutionary firmament, by name lenin. according to the swedish press this interesting anarchist has been missing for two days, and it remains to be seen if he will yet make a hit. meanwhile the kaiser is doing his bit in the unfamiliar rôle of pro-socialist. newmarket has become "a blasted heath," all horse-racing having been stopped, to the great dismay of the irish members. what are the hundred thousand young men (or is it two?), who refuse to fight for their country, to do? mr. lloyd george has produced and expounded his plan for an irish convention, at which erin is to take a turn at her own harp, and the proposal has been favourably received, except by mr. ginnell, in whose ears the convention "sounds the dirge of the home rule act." [illustration: his latest! the kaiser: "this is sorry work for a hohenzollern; still, necessity knows no traditions."] _a garden glorified_ mr. bonar law has brought in a budget, moved a vote of credit for 500 millions, and apologised for estimating the war expenditure at 5 1/2 millions a day when it turned out to be 7 1/2. the trivial lapse has been handsomely condoned by his predecessor, mr. mckenna. the budget debate was held with open doors, but produced a number of speeches much more suitable for the secret session which followed, and at which it appears from the speaker's report that nothing sensational was revealed. the house of commons, unchanged externally, has deteriorated spiritually, to judge by the temper of most of those who have remained behind. it is otherwise with other institutions, some of which have been ennobled by disfigurement. a place of arms i knew a garden green and fair, flanking our london river's tide, and you would think, to breathe its air and roam its virgin lawns beside, all shimmering in their velvet fleece, "nothing can hurt this haunt of peace." no trespass marred that close retreat; privileged were the few that went pacing its walks with measured beat on legal contemplation bent; and inner templars used to say: "how well our garden looks to-day!" but that which changes all has changed this guarded pleasaunce, green and fair, and soldier-ranks therein have ranged and trod its beauties hard and bare, have tramped and tramped its fretted floor, learning the discipline of war. and many a moon of peace shall climb above that mimic field of mars, before the healing touch of time with springing green shall hide its scars; but inner templars smile and say: "our barrack-square looks well to-day!" good was that garden in their eyes, lovely its spell of long-ago; now waste and mired its glory lies, and yet they hold it dearer so, who see beneath the wounds it bears a grace no other garden wears. for still the memory, never sere, but fresh as after fallen rain, of those who learned their lesson here and may not ever come again, gives to this garden, bruised and browned, a greenness as of hallowed ground. news comes from athens that king constantine is realising his position and contemplates abdication in favour of the crown prince george. it is not yet known in whose favour the crown prince george will abdicate. in this context the _kölnische zeitung_ is worth quoting. "the german people," it says, "will not soon forget what they owe to their future emperor." this spasm of candour is not confined to the rhineland. the keenest minds in germany, says a berlin correspondent, are now seeking to discover the secret of the fatherland's world-wide unpopularity. it is this absurd sensitiveness on the part of our cultured opponent that is causing some of her best friends in this country to lose hope. genius has been denned as an infinite capacity for taking pains; and if the definition is sound, genius cannot be denied to the painstaking officials who test the physical fitness of recruits--"as in the picture." the month has witnessed the amendment of the president's much discussed phrase: "too proud to fight" has now become "proud to fight too." another revised version is suggested by margarine: _c'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas le beurre_. the german food controller laments the mysterious disappearance of five million four hundred thousand pigs this year. the idea of having the crown prince's baggage searched does not seem to have been found feasible. [illustration: our persevering officials or, the recruit that was passed at the thirteenth examination.] _june_, 1917. within some eleven weeks of the declaration of war by the u.s.a., the first american troops have been landed in france. even the kaiser has begun to abate his thrasonic tone, declaring that "it is not the prussian way to praise oneself," and that "it is now a matter of holding out, however long it lasts." but other events besides the arrival of the americans have helped to bring about this altered tone. the capture of messines ridge, after the biggest bang in history, has given him something to think about. his brother-in-law, constantine of greece, has at last thrown up the sponge and abdicated. "tino's" place of exile is not yet fixed. the odds seem to be on switzerland, but mr. punch recommends denmark. there is no place like home: try some ancestral palace, well appointed; for choice the one where hamlet nursed his spite, who found the times had grown a bit disjointed and he was not the man to put 'em right; and there consult on that enchanted shore the ghosts of elsinore. brazil has also entered the war, and germany is now able to shoot in almost any direction without any appreciable risk of hitting a friend. field-marshal sir douglas haig gave the nation a birthday present on his own birthday, in the shape of a dispatch which is as strong and straight as himself: frugal in speech, yet more than once impelled to utter words of confidence and cheer whereat some dismal publicists rebelled as premature, ill-founded, insincere- words none the less triumphantly upheld by victory's verdict, resonantly clear, words that inspired misgiving in the foe because you do not prophesy--you _know_. steadfast and calm, unmoved by blame or praise, by local checks or fortune's strange caprices, you dedicate laborious nights and days to shattering the hun machine to pieces; and howsoe'er at times the battle sways the army's trust in your command increases; patient in preparation, swift in deed, we find in you the leader that we need. [illustration: a word of ill omen crown prince (to kaiser, drafting his next speech): "for gott's sake, father, be careful this time, and don't call the american army 'contemptible.'"] a new feature of the german armies are the special "storm-troops"; men picked for their youth, vigour, and daring, and fortified by a specially liberal diet for the carrying out of counter-attacks. even our ordinary british soldiers, who are constantly compelled to take these brave fellows prisoners, bear witness to the ferocity of their appearance. on our home front the germans have shown considerable activity of late. daylight air-raids are no longer the monopoly of the south-east coast; they have extended to london. and a weekly paper, conspicuous for the insistence with which it proclaims its superiority to all others, has been asking: if 17 german aeroplanes can visit and bomb london in broad daylight, what is to prevent our enemy from sending 170 or even 1,700? fortunately the average man and woman pays no heed to this scare-mongering, and goes about his or her business, if not rejoicing, at any rate in the conviction that the gothas are not going to have it all their own way. considering that the "fort of london" had been drenched with the "ghastly dew" of aerial navies barely three hours before parliament met on june 13, members showed themselves uncommon calm. they were at their best a few days earlier in paying homage to major willie redmond. it had been his ambition to be father of the house: he had been elected thirty-four years ago; but in reality he was the eternal boy from the far-off time when it was his nightly delight to "cheek" mr. speaker brand with delightful exuberance until the moment of his glorious death in flanders, whither he had gone at an age when most of his compeers were content to play the critic in a snug corner of the smoking-room. personal affection combined with admiration for his gallantry to inspire the speeches in which mr. lloyd george, mr. asquith, and sir edward carson enshrined the most remarkable tribute ever paid to a private member. mr. balfour has returned safe and sound from his mission to the states, and received a warm welcome on all sides. even the ranks of tuscany, on the irish benches, could not forbear to cheer their old opponent. besides securing american gold for his country, he has transferred some american bronze to his complexion. if anything, he appears to have sharpened his natural faculty for skilful evasion and polite repartee by his encounter with transatlantic journalists. in fact everybody is pleased to see him back except perhaps certain curious members, who find him even more chary of information than his deputy, lord robert cecil. the mystery of lord northcliffe's visit to the states has been cleared up. certain journals, believed to enjoy his confidence, had described him as "mr. balfour's successor." certain other journals, whose confidence he does not enjoy, had declined to believe this. the fact as stated by mr. bonar law is that "it is hoped that lord northcliffe will be able to carry on the work begun by mr. balfour as head of the british mission in america. he is expected to co-ordinate and supervise the work of all the departmental missions." it has been interesting to learn that his lordship "will have the right of communicating direct with the prime minister"--a thing which, of course, he has never done before. meanwhile, the fact remains that his departure has been hailed with many a dry eye, and that the public seem to be enduring their temporary bereavement with fortitude. [illustration: mrs. green to mrs. jones (who is gazing at an aeroplane): "my word! i shouldn't care for one of _them_ flying things to settle on me."] far too much fuss has been made about trying to stop messrs. ramsay macdonald and jowett from leaving england. so far as we can gather they did not threaten to return to this country afterwards. there is no end to the woes of pacificists, conscientious or otherwise. the press campaign against young men of military age engaged in government offices is causing some of them sleepless days. even on the stage the "conchy" is not safe. [illustration: stage manager: "the elephant's putting in a very spirited performance to-night." carpenter. "yessir. you see, the new hind-legs is a discharged soldier, and the front legs is an out-and-out pacificist."] the king has done a popular act in abolishing the german titles held by members of his family, and mr. kennedy jones has won widespread approval by declaring that beer is a food. lord devonport's retirement from the post of food controller has been received with equanimity. there is a touch of imagination, almost of romance, in the appointment of his successor, the redoubtable lord rhondda, who as "d.a." was alternately the bogy and idol of the welsh miners, and who, after being the head of the greatest profit-making enterprise in the welsh coalfields, is now summoned to carry on war against the profiteers in the provision trade. in germany a number of lunatics have been called up for military service, and the annual report of one institution at stettin states that "the asylums are proud that their inmates are allowed to serve their fatherland." it appears, however, that the results are not always satisfactory, though no complaints have been heard on our side. _july_, 1917. the war, so lord northcliffe has informed the washington red cross committee, has only just begun. whether this utterance be regarded as a statement of fact or an explosion of rhetoric, it has at least one merit. the united states cannot but regard it as a happy coincidence that their entry into the war synchronises with the initial operations. the dog-days are always busy times for the dogs of war, and the last month of the third year opened with the new russian offensive under brusiloff, and closed with the beginning of the third battle of ypres. the war in the air and under the sea rages with unabated intensity, and in both houses the policy of unmitigated reprisals on german cities has found strenuous advocates. but lord derby, our new minister of war, will have none of it. british aeroplanes shall only be employed in bombing where some distinctly military object is to be achieved. but this decision does not involve any slackness in defensive measures. we have learned how to deal with the zepp, and now we are going to attend to the gotha. as for the u-boats, the admiralty says little but does much. and we are adding to vigilance, valour, and the resources of applied science the further aid of agriculture. in the old days the kaiser was once described as "indefatigably changing chancellors and uniforms." dr. bethmann-hollweg has now gone the way of his greater predecessors--bismarck and caprivi, prince hohenlohe and prince bülow. [illustration: the tuber's repartee german pirate; "gott strafe england!" british potato: "tuber über alles!"] the princes and the peers depart, and the doctors are following suit. bethmann-hollweg, immortalised by one fatal phrase, has been at last hunted from office by the extremists whom he sought to restrain, and dr. michaelis, a second-rate administrator, of negligible antecedents, succeeds to his uneasy chair, while the kaiser maintains his pose as the friend of the people. he has congratulated his bayreuth dragoons on their prowess, which has given joy "to old fritz up in elysian fields": perhaps; but what if he is down below? in any case, what we should like to know is how his modern namesake, private fritz, enjoys the fun of being blown to bits because his emperor has lost his wits. [illustration: the scrapper scrapped] _delirant reges_: but there are bright exceptions. on july 17 our king in council decreed that the royal house should be known henceforth as the house of windsor. parliament has been flooded with the backwash of the mesopotamia commission, and at last on third thoughts the government has decided not to set up a new tribunal to try the persons affected by the report. mr. austen chamberlain has resigned office amid general regret. the government have refused, "on the representations of the foreign secretary," to accept the twice proffered resignation of lord hardinge. the plain person is driven to the conclusion that if there are no unsinkable ships there are some unsinkable officials. for the rest the question mainly agitating members has been "to warn or not to warn." the lord mayor has announced that he will not ring the great bell of st. paul's; but the home secretary states that the public will be warned in future when an air raid is actually imminent. [illustration: busy city man to his partner (as one of the new air-raid warnings gets to work): "if you'll leave me in here for the warnings i'll carry on while you take shelter during the raids."] during these visitations there is nothing handier than a comfortable and capacious cave, but the home secretary has his limitations. when mr. king asked him to be more careful about interning alien friends without trial, since he (mr. king) had just heard of the great reception accorded in petrograd to one trotsky on his release from internment, sir george cave replied that he was sorry he had never heard of trotsky. lord rhondda reigns in lord devonport's place, and will doubtless profit by his predecessor's experience. it is a thankless job, but the great body of the nation is determined that he shall have fair play and will support him through thick and thin in any policy, however drastic, that he may recommend to their reason and their patriotism. this business of food-controlling is new to us as well as to him, but we are willing to be led, and we are even willing to be driven, and we are grateful to him for having engaged his reputation and skill and firmness in the task of leading or driving us. the war has its _grandes heures_, its colossal glories and disasters, but the tragedy of the "little things" affects the mind of the simple soldier with a peculiar force--the "little gardens rooted up, the same as might be ours"; "the little 'ouses all in 'eaps, the same as might be mine"; and worst of all, "the little kids, as might 'ave been our own." apropos of resentment, england has lost first place in germany, for america is said to be the most hated country now. the "morning hate" of the german family with ragtime obbligato must be a terrible thing! general von blume, it is true, says that america's intervention is no more than "a straw." but which straw? the last? [illustration: grandpapa (to small teuton struggling with home-lessons): "come, fritz, is your task so difficult?" fritz: "it is indeed. i have to learn all the names of _all_ the countries that misunderstand the all-highest."] it is reported that ex-king constantine is to receive £20,000 a year unemployment benefit, and mr. punch, in prophetic vein, pictures him as offering advice to his illustrious brother-in-law: were it not wise, dear william, ere the day when revolution goes for crowns and things, to cut your loss betimes and come this way and start a coterie of exiled kings? in the words of a valued correspondent (a temporary captain suddenly summoned from the trenches to the staff), "there is this to be said about being at war--you never know what is going to happen to you next." _august, 1917_. with the opening of the fourth year of the war freedom renews her vow, fortified by the aid of the "gigantic daughter of the west," and undaunted by the collapse of our eastern ally, brought about by anarchy, german gold and the fraternisation of russian and german soldiers. the kaiser, making the most of this timely boon, has once more been following in bellona's train (her _train de luxe_) in search of cheap _réclame_ on the galician front, to witness the triumphs of his new ally, revolutionary russia: but though she fail us in the final test, not there, not there, my child, the end shall be, but where, without your option, france and we have made our own arrangements in the west. [illustration: russia's dark hour] it is another story on the western front, where the british are closing in on the wrecked remains of lens, and the crown prince's chance of breaking hearts along "the ladies' way" grows more and more remote. [illustration: the optimist "if this is the right village, then we're all right. the instructions is clear--'go past the post-office and sharp to the left afore you come to the church.'"] a recent resolution of the reichstag has been welcomed by mr. ramsay macdonald as the solemn pronouncement of a sovereign people, only requiring the endorsement of the british government to produce an immediate and equitable peace. but not much was left of this pleasant theory after mr. asquith had dealt it a few sledge-hammer blows. "so far as we know," he said, "the influence of the reichstag, not only upon the composition but upon the policy of the german government, remains what it always has been--a practically negligible quantity." the reminiscences of mr. gerard, the late german ambassador in berlin, are causing much perturbation in german court circles. in one of his conversations with mr. gerard, the kaiser told him "there is no longer any international law." little scraps of paper, little drops of ink, make the kaiser caper and the nations think. the real voice of labour is not that of the delegates who want to go to the international socialist conference at stockholm to talk to fritz, but of the tommy who, after a short "leaf," goes cheerfully back to france to fight him. and the fomenters of class hatred will not find much support from the "men in blue." mr. punch has had occasion to rebuke the levity of smart fashionables who visit the wounded and weary them by idiotic questions. he is glad to show the other side of the picture in the tribute paid to the v.a.d. of the proper sort: there's an angel in our ward as keeps a-flittin' to and fro, with fifty eyes upon 'er wherever she may go; she's as pretty as a picture, and as bright as mercury, and she wears the cap and apron of a v.a.d. the matron she is gracious, and the sister she is kind, but they wasn't born just yesterday, and lets you know their mind; the m.o. and the padre is as thoughtful as can be, but they ain't so good to look at as our v.a.d. not like them that wash a teacup in an orficer's canteen, and then "engaged in war work" in the weekly press is seen; she's on the trot from morn to night and busy as a bee, and there's 'eaps of wounded tommies bless that v.a.d. our grand fleet keeps its strenuous, unceasing vigil in the north sea. but we must not forget the merchant mariners now serving under the windsor house flag in the north atlantic trade: "we sweep a bit and we fight a bit--an' that's what we like the best- but a towin' job or a salvage job, they all go in with the rest; when we ain't too busy upsettin' old fritz an' 'is frightfulness blockade a bit of all sorts don't come amiss in the north atlantic trade." "and who's your skipper, and what is he like?" "oh, well, if you want to know, i'm sailing under a hard-case mate as i sailed with years ago; 'e's big as a bucko an' full o' beans, the same as 'e used to be when i knowed 'im last in the windbag days when first i followed the sea. 'e was worth two men at the lee fore brace, an' three at the bunt of a sail; 'e'd a voice you could 'ear to the royal yards in the teeth of a cape 'orn gale; but now 'e's a full-blown lootenant, an' wears the twisted braid, commandin' one of 'is majesty's ships in the north atlantic trade." "and what is the ship you're sailin' in?" "oh, she's a bit of a terror. she ain't no bloomin' levvyathan, an' that's no fatal error! she scoops the seas like a gravy spoon when the gales are up an' blowin', but fritz 'e loves 'er above a bit when 'er fightin' fangs are showin'. the liners go their stately way an' the cruisers take their ease, but where would they be if it wasn't for us with the water up to our knees? we're wadin' when their soles are wet, we're swimmin' when they wade, for i tell you small craft gets it a treat in the north atlantic trade!" "an' what is the port you're plying to?" "when the last long trick is done there'll some come back to the old 'ome port--'ere's 'opin' i'll be one; but some 'ave made a new landfall, an' sighted another shore, an' it ain't no use to watch for them, for they won't come 'ome no more. there ain't no harbour dues to pay when once they're over the bar, moored bow and stern in a quiet berth where the lost three-deckers are. an' there's nelson 'oldin' is' one 'and out an' welcomin' them that's made the roads o' glory an' the port of death in the north atlantic trade." [illustration: doctor: "your throat is in a very bad state. have you ever tried gargling with salt water?" skipper: "yus, i've been torpedoed six times."] parliament has devoted many hours of talk to the discussion of mr. henderson's visit to paris in company with mr. ramsay macdonald to attend a conference of french and russian socialists. as member of the war cabinet and secretary of the labour party he seems to have resembled one of those twin salad bottles from which oil and vinegar can be dispensed alternately but not together. the attempt to combine the two functions could only end as it began--in a double fiasco. mr. henderson has resigned, and mr. winston churchill has been appointed minister of munitions. many reasons have been assigned for his reinclusion in the ministry. some say that it was done to muzzle mr. maccallum scott, hitherto one of the most pertinacious of questionists, who, as mr. churchill's private secretary, is now debarred by parliamentary etiquette from the exercise of these inquisitorial functions. others say it was done to muzzle mr. churchill. contrary to expectation, mr. churchill has succeeded in piloting the munitions of war bill through its remaining stages in double quick time. its progress was accelerated by his willingness to abolish the leaving certificate, which a workman hitherto had to procure before changing one job for another. having had unequalled experience in this respect, he is convinced that the leaving certificate is a useless formality. food stocks going up, thanks to the energy of the farmers and the economy of consumers; german submarines going down, thanks to the navy; russia recovering herself; britain and france advancing hand in hand on the western front, and our enemies fumbling for peace--that was the gist of the message with which the prime minister sped the parting commons. "i have resigned," mr. kennedy jones tells us, "because there is no further need for my services." several politicians are of opinion that this was not a valid reason. a boy of eighteen recently told a stratford magistrate that he had given up his job because he only got twenty-five shillings a week. the question of wages is becoming acute in germany too, and it is announced that all salaries in the diplomatic service have been reduced. we always said that frightfulness didn't really pay. _september, 1917_. thanks to the collapse of the russian armies and "fraternisation," germany has occupied riga. but her chief exploits of late must be looked for outside the sphere of military operations. she has added a new phrase to the vocabulary of frightfulness, _spurlos versenkt_ in the instructions to her submarine commanders for dealing with neutral merchantmen. as for the position into which sweden has been lured by allowing her diplomatic agents to assist germany's secret service, mr. punch would hardly go the length of saying that it justifies the revision of the national anthem so as to read, "confound their scandi-knavish tricks." but he finds it hard to accept sweden's professions of official rectitude, and so does president wilson. the german press accuses the united states of having stolen the cipher key of the luxburg dispatches. it is this sort of thing that is gradually convincing germany that it is beneath her dignity to fight with a nation like america. and the growing conviction in the united states that there can be no peace with the hohenzollerns only tends to fortify this view in court circles. the kaiser's protestations of his love for his people become more strident every day. [illustration: perfect innocence constable woodrow wilson: "that's a very mischievous thing to do." sweden: "please, sir, i didn't know it was loaded."] in russia the provisional government has been dissolved and a republic proclaimed. if eloquence can save the situation, mr. kerensky is the man to do it; but so far the men of few words have gone farthest in the war. a "history of the russian revolution" has already been published. the pen may not be mightier than the sword to-day, but it manages to keep ahead of it. with fresh enemy battalions, as well as batteries, constantly arriving from russia, the italians have been hard pressed; but their great assault on san gabriele has saved the bainsizza plateau. the italian success has been remarkable, but the russian collapse has prevented it from being pushed home. on the western front no great events are recorded, but the mills of death grind on with ever-increasing assistance from the resources of applied science and the new art of _camouflage_. yet the dominion of din and death and discomfort is still unable to impair our soldiers' capacity of extracting amusement from trivialities. [illustration: trials of a camouflage officer sergeant-major: "beg pardon, sir, i was to ask if you'd step up to the battery, sir." camouflage officer: "what's the matter?" sergeant-major: "it's those painted grass screens, sir. the mules have eaten them."] [illustration: the inseparable the kaiser (to his people): "do not listen to those who would sow dissension between us. _i will never desert you_."] the weather has been so persistently wet that it looks as if this year the channel had decided to swim great britain. a correspondent, in a list of improbable events on an "extraordinary day" at the front, gives as the culminating entry, "it did not rain on the day of the offensive." [illustration: c.o. (to sentry): "do you know the defence scheme for this sector of the line, my man?" tommy: "yes, sir." c.o.: "well, what is it, then?" tommy. "to stay 'ere an' fight like 'ell."] when parliament is not sitting and trying to make us "sit up," and when war news is scant, old people at home sometimes fall into a mood of wistful reverie, and contrast the germany they once knew with the germany of to-day. a lost land a childhood land of mountain ways, where earthy gnomes and forest fays, kind, foolish giants, gentle bears, sport with the peasant as he fares affrighted through the forest glades, and lead sweet, wistful little maids lost in the woods, forlorn, alone, to princely lovers and a throne. dear haunted land of gorge and glen, ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men! a learned law of wise old books and men with meditative looks, who move in quaint red-gabled towns, and sit in gravely-folded gowns, divining in deep-laden speech the world's supreme arcana--each a homely god to listening youth, eager to tear the veil of truth; mild votaries of book and pen- alas, the dreams, the dreams of men! a music land whose life is wrought in movements of melodious thought; in symphony, great wave on wave- or fugue elusive, swift and grave; a singing land, whose lyric rhymes float on the air like village chimes; music and verse--the deepest part of a whole nation's thinking heart! oh land of now, oh land of then! dear god! the dreams, the dreams of men! slave nation in a land of hate, where are the things that made you great? child-hearted once--oh, deep defiled, dare you look now upon a child? your lore--a hideous mask wherein self-worship hides its monstrous sin- music and verse, divinely wed- how can these live where love is dead? oh depths beneath sweet human ken, god help the dreams, the dreams of men! the norwegian explorer, roald amundsen, is preparing for a trip to the north pole in 1918. additional interest now attaches to this spot as being the only territory whose neutrality the germans have omitted to violate. apropos of neutrals, the crew of the u-boat interned at cadiz has been allowed to land on giving their word of honour not to leave spain during the continuance of the war. the mystery of how the word "honour" came into their possession is not explained. it is easier to explain that the second division, in which mr. e.d. morel is now serving, is not the one which fought at the battle of mons. _october, 1917_. another month of losses and gains. against the breakthrough at caporetto on the isonzo we have to set the steady advance of allenby on the palestine front, and the decision arrived at by an extraordinary meeting of german reichstag members that the germans cannot hope for victory in the field. we see nothing extraordinary in this. the reichstag may not yet be able to influence policy, but it is not blind to facts--to the terribly heavy losses involved in our enemy's desperate efforts to prevent us from occupying the ridges above the ypres-menin road, and so forcing him to face the winter on the low ground. then, too, there has been the ominous mutiny of the german sailors at kiel. the ringleaders have been executed, but they may have preferred death to another speech from the kaiser. dr. michaelis, that "transient embarrassed phantom," has joined the ranks of the dismissed. no sooner had the _berliner tageblatt_ pointed out that "dr. michaelis was a good chancellor as chancellors go" than he went. another of the german doctor politicians has been delivering his soul on the failure of pro-german propaganda in memorable fashion. dr. dernburg, in _deutsche politik_, tells us that "steadfastness and righteousness are the qualities which the german people value in the highest degree, and which have brought it a good and honourable reputation in the whole world. when we make experiments in lies and deceptions, intrigue and low cunning, we suffer hopeless and brutal failure. our lies are coarse and improbable, our ambiguity is pitiful simplicity. the history of the war proves this by a hundred examples. when our enemies poured all these things upon us like a hailstorm, and we convinced ourselves of the effectiveness of such tactics, we tried to imitate them. but these tactics will not fit the german. we are rough but moral, we are credulous but honest." before this touching picture of the german innocents very much abroad, the machiavellian briton can only take refuge in silent amazement. [illustration: the dance of death the kaiser: "stop! i'm tired." death: "i started at your bidding; i stop when i choose."] parliament has reassembled, and mr. punch has been moved to ask why? various reasons would no doubt be returned by various members. the chancellor of the exchequer wants to obtain a further vote of credit. the new national party wish to justify their existence; and those incarnate notes of interrogation--messrs. king, hogge and pemberton billing--would like parliament to be in permanent session in order that the world might have the daily benefit of their searching investigations. there has been a certain liveliness on the hibernian front, but we hope that mr. asquith was justified in assuming that the sinn fein excesses were only an expression of the "rhetorical and contingent belligerency" always present in ireland, and that in spite of them the convention would make all things right. meanwhile, the sinn feiners have refused to take part in it. and not a single nationalist member has denounced them for their dereliction; indeed, mr. t.m. healy has even given them his blessing, for what it is worth. of more immediate importance has been mr. bonar law's announcement of the government's intention to set up a new air ministry, and "to employ our machines over german towns so far as military needs render us free to take such action." [illustration: a place in the moon hans: "how beautiful a moon, my love, for showing up england to our gallant airmen!" gretchen: "yes, dearest, but may it not show up the fatherland to the brutal enemy one of these nights?"] in the earlier stages of the war we looked on the moon as our friend. now that inconstant orb has become our enemy, and the only german opera that we look forward to seeing is _die gothadämmerung_. a circular has been issued by the feline defence league appealing to owners of cats to bring them inside the house during air-raids. when they are left on the roof it would seem that their agility causes them to be mistaken for aerial torpedoes. we note that the practice of giving air-raid warnings by notice published in the following morning's papers has been abandoned only after the most exhaustive tests. the advocates of "darkness and composure" have not been very happy in their arguments, but they are at least preferable to the members of parliament deservedly trounced by mr. bonar law, who declared that if their craven squealings were typical he should despair of victory. meanwhile, we have to congratulate our gallant french allies on their splendid bag of zepps. but the space which our press allots to air raids moves mr. punch to wonder and scorn. our casualties from that source are never one-tenth so heavy as those in france on days when g.h.q. reports "everything quiet on the western front." still worse is the temper of some of our society weeklies, which have set their faces like flint against any serious reference to the war, and go imperturbably along the old ante-bellum lines, "snapping" smart people at the races or in the row, or reproducing the devastating beauty of a revue chorus, and this at a time when every day brings the tidings of irreparable loss to hundreds of families. * * * * * missing "he was last seen going over the parapet into the german trenches." what did you find after war's fierce alarms, when the kind earth gave you a resting-place, and comforting night gathered you in her arms, with light dew falling on your upturned face? did your heart beat, remembering what had been? did you still hear around you, as you lay, the wings of airmen sweeping by unseen, the thunder of the guns at close of day? all nature stoops to guard your lonely bed; sunshine and rain fall with their calming breath; you need no pall, so young and newly dead, where the lost legion triumphs over death. when with the morrow's dawn the bugle blew, for the first time it summoned you in vain, the last post does not sound for such as you, but god's reveille wakens you again. the discomforts of railway travelling do not diminish. but impatient passengers may find comfort in a maxim of r. l. stevenson: "to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive." and further solace is forthcoming in the fact that our enemies are even worse off than we are. railway fares in germany have been doubled; but it is doubtful if this transparent artifice will prevent the kaiser from going about the place making speeches to his troops on all the fronts. here all classes are united by the solidarity of inconvenience. and they all have different ways of meeting it. but we really think more care should be taken by the authorities to see that while waging war on the continent they do not forget the defence of those at home. the fact that mr. winston churchill and mr. horatio bottomley were away in france at the same time looks like gross carelessness. in this context we may note the report that the eskimos had not until quite recently heard of war, which seems to argue slackness on the part of the circulation manager of the _daily mail_. [illustration: stout lady (discussing the best thing to do in an air-raid): "well, i always runs about meself. you see, as my 'usband sez, an' very reasonable too, a movin' targit is more difficult to 'it."] _november, 1917_. the best and the worst news comes from the outlying fronts. allenby's triumphant advance is unchecked in palestine. gaza has fallen. the british are in jaffa. jerusalem is threatened. the german-austrian drive which began at caporetto has been stemmed, and the italians, stiffened by a british army under general plumer, are standing firm on the piave. in mesopotamia we deplore the death of the gallant maude, a great general and a great gentleman, beloved by all ranks, whose career is an abiding answer to those who maintain that no good can come out of our public schools or the staff training of regular officers. in russia the bolshevist _coup d'état_ has overthrown the kerensky _règime_ and installed as dictator lenin, a _déclassé_ aristocrat, always the most dangerous of revolutionaries. on the western front the tide has flowed and ebbed. the germans have yielded ground on the _chemin des dames_, the british have stormed passchendaele ridge, but at terrible cost, and general byng's brilliant surprise attack and victory at cambrai has been followed by the fierce reaction of ten days later. but perhaps the greatest sensation of the month has been mr. lloyd george's paris speech, with its disquieting references to the situation on the western front, and its announcement of the formation of the new allied council. the premier's defence of, and, we may perhaps say, recomposition of his paris oration before the house of commons has appeased criticism without entirely convincing those who have been anxious to know how the allied council would work, and what would be the relations between the council's military advisers and the existing general staff of the countries concerned. but as mr. lloyd george confessed that he had deliberately made a "disagreeable speech" in paris in order to get it talked about, the press critics whom he rebuked will probably consider themselves absolved. [illustration: a great incentive mehmed (reading dispatch from the all-highest): "defend jerusalem at all costs for my sake. i was once there myself."] [illustration: one up!] parliament has for once repelled the gibe that it has ceased to represent the people in the tribute of praise paid by lords and commons to our sailors and soldiers and all the other gallant folk who are helping us to win the war. on the strength of this capacity for rising to the occasion one may pass over the many sittings at which a small minority of pacificists and irrelevant inquisitors have dragged the house down to the depths of ineptitude or worse. in the debate on the air force in committee, one member, if we count speeches and interruptions, addressed the house exactly one hundred times, and it is worthy of note that his last words were: "this is what you call muzzling the house of commons." if we were to believe some critics, the british navy is directed by a set of doddering old gentlemen who are afraid to let it go at the germans, and cannot even safeguard it from attack. the truth, as expounded by the first lord, sir eric geddes, in his maiden speech, is quite different. despite the jeremiads of superannuated sailors and political longshoremen, the admiralty is not going to davy jones's locker, but under its present chiefs, who have, with very few exceptions, seen service in this war, maintains and supplements its glorious record. save for an occasional game of "tip and run," as with the north sea convoy, enemy vessels have disappeared on the surface of the ocean; and the long arm of the british navy is now stretching down into the depths and up into the skies in successful pursuit of them. if the nation hardly realises what it owes to the men of the fleet and their splendid comrades of the auxiliary services, it is because this work is done with such thoroughness and so little fuss, and, as mr. asquith put it, "in the twilight and not in the limelight." [illustration: aunt maria: "do you know i once actually saw the kaiser riding through the streets of london as bold as brass. if i'd known then what i know now i'd have told a policeman."] the general sense of the community is now practically agreed that compulsory rationing must come, and the sooner the better. lord rhondda is still hopeful that john bull will tighten his own belt and save him the trouble. but if we fail, the machinery for compulsion is all ready. reuter reports that a british prisoner has been sentenced to a year's imprisonment for calling the germans "huns." on the western front tommy usually calls them "allymans," "jerry," or "fritz." but even if this prisoner did use the word he cannot be blamed. the choice was the kaiser's when, as attila's understudy, "go forth," he said, "my sons. go and behave exactly as the huns." apropos of the kaiser, it appears that a certain herr stegerwald, addressing a berlin meeting, said: "we went to war at the side of the kaiser, and the all-highest will return from war with us." if we may be permitted to say anything, we expect he will be leading by at least a couple of lengths. the versatility and inventive genius of the prime minister provoke mingled comment. an old parliamentarian, when asked to what party mr. lloyd george now belonged, recently answered: "he used to be a radical; he will some day be a conservative; and at present he is the leader of the improvisatories." _december, 1917_. it seems useless to attempt to cope with the staggering multiplicity of events crowded into the last few weeks. jerusalem captured in this last crusade, which realises the dream of coeur de lion; russia "down and out" as a result of the armistice and the brest-litovsk conference; germany's last colony conquered in east africa; lord lansdowne's letter; the retirement of lord jellicoe; while in one single week cuba has declared war on austria, the kaiser has threatened to make a christmas peace offer, and mr. bernard shaw has described himself as "a mere individual." we have traversed the whole gamut of sensation from the sublime and tragic to the ridiculous; and armageddon, vulgarised by the vulgar repetition of the journalist, has redeemed its significance in the dispatches from our palestine front. the simplicity and dignity of general allenby's entry into the syrian town- where on his grave with shining eyes the syrian stars look down-afford a happy contrast to the boastful pagentry of the kaiser's visit in 1898. meanwhile it has not yet been decided in berlin what the sultan of turkey thinks of the capture of jerusalem. [illustration: betrayed the pander: "come on; come and be kissed by him."] where russia is concerned mr. balfour wisely declines to be included among the prophets; all he knows is that she has not yet evolved a government with which we can negotiate. there _is_ a government in germany, but neither government nor people afford excuse for the negotiations which lord lansdowne, in a fit of war-weariness, has advocated in his letter to the _daily telegraph_. his unfortunate intervention, playing into the hands of pacificists and pro-boches, is all the more to be deplored in a public servant who has crowned a long, disinterested and distinguished career by an act of grievous disservice to his country. british grit will win, declares sir william robertson; but our elderly statesmen must refrain from dropping theirs into the machinery. happily the government are determined to give no more publicity to the letter than they can help. on the vote of credit for 550 millions the chancellor of the exchequer has been invited by mr. dillon to make a survey of the military situation, and has replied that all the relevant facts are known already. "the war is going on; the government and the country intend it shall go on; and money is necessary to make it go on." that was a good answer to a member who has certainly done little to receive special consideration. not only do we need money; we need men to supply the gaps caused by our withdrawal of troops to italy and the constant wastage on all fronts. mr. balfour, as we have seen, abstains from prophecy. mr. dillon, who, with other nationalists, bitterly resents the decision of the government to apply the rules of arithmetic to the redistribution of seats in their beloved country, has indulged in a terrifying forecast which ought to be placed on record. he has threatened the house with the possibility that at the next general election he and his colleagues might be wiped out of existence. tommy is a very great man, but he is not a great linguist, though he always gets what he wants by the aid of signs or telepathy. three years and some odd months have not changed his point of view, and now for thomas to find himself in italy is only to discover another lot of people who cannot understand or make themselves understood. "alliances," as a correspondent from italy puts it, "are things as wonderful to see as they are magnificent to read about. i do, however, regard with something approaching alarm the new language which will be evolved to put the lot of us on complete speaking terms." [illustration: the need of men mr. punch (to the comber-out): "more power to your elbow, sir. but when are you going to fill up that silly gap?" sir auckland geddes: "hush! hush! we're waiting for the millennium."] [illustration: the new language tommy (to inquisitive french children): "nah, then, alley toot sweet, an the tooter the sweeter!"] lord rhondda, who listened from the peers' gallery to the recent debate in the commons on food control, has received a quantity of advice intended to help him in minding his p's and q's, particularly the latter. in china, we read in the _daily express_, a chicken can still be purchased for sixpence; intending purchasers should note, however, that at present the return fare to shanghai brings the total cost to a figure a trifle in excess of the present london prices. more bread is being eaten than ever, according to the food controller: but it appears that the stuff is now eaten by itself instead of being spread thinly on butter, as in pre-war days. bloaters have reached the unprecedented price of sixpence each. this is no more, as we have seen, than a chicken fetches in china, but it is enough to dispel the hope that bloaters, at any rate over the christmas season, would remain within the reach of the upper classes. at a guildford charity _fête_ the winner of a hurdle race has been awarded a new-laid egg. if he succeeds in winning it three years in succession it is to become his own property. christmas has come round again, and peace still seems a far-off thing. "what shall he have that killed the deer?" someone asks somebody else in _as you like it_. but there is a better question than that, and it is this: "what shall they have that preserve the little dears?" and the answer is--honour and support. for there can be no doubt that in these critical times, when the life of the best and bravest and strongest is so cheap, no duty is more important than the cherishing of infancy, and the provision of seasonable joys to the youngest generation, gentle and simple. more than ever mr. punch welcomes the coming of santa klaus: thou who on earth was namèd nicholas- there be dull clods who doubt thy magic power to tour the sleeping world in half-an-hour, and pop down all the chimneys as you pass with woolly lambs and dolls of frabjous size for grubby hands and wonder-laden eyes. not so thy singer, who believes in thee because he has a young and foolish spirit; because the simple faith that bards inherit of happiness is still the master key, opening life's treasure-house to whoso clings to the dim beauty of imagined things. _january, 1918_. while avoiding as a rule the fashionable _rôle_ of prophet, mr. punch is occasionally tempted to indulge in prediction. the year 1918, in which france is greeting in increasing numbers the heirs of the pilgrim fathers, is going to be america's year. as for the kaiser, a fatherland poet was busy of late in making the kaiser a new hymn of hate; perhaps, ere its echoes have time to grow dim, the huns may be learning a new hate of him. in this prophetic strain mr. punch has been musing on the fortunes of the hohenzollerns under a german republic. will the ex-kaiser be appointed to the post of official gatherer of scraps of paper, or start in business as a second-hand wardrobe dealer with a large assortment of slightly soiled uniforms? or will he be ordered to ring a joy-bell on the anniversary of the inauguration of the german republic? [illustration: the ex-kaiser is appointed to the post of official gatherer of scraps of paper.] these are attractive speculations, but a trifle previous, while hospital ships are still being torpedoed, u-boats are busy at funchal, and the bonds of german influence and penetration are being forged anew at brest-litovsk. the latest news from that quarter seems to indicate that the kaiser desires peace--at any rate for the duration of the war. and already there is a talk of a german counter-offensive on a colossal scale on the western front. so that mr. punch's message for the new year is couched in no spirit of premature jubilation, but rather appeals for fortitude and endurance. [illustration: to all at home] how needful such an appeal is may be gathered from the proceedings at westminster, less fit for the mother than the mummy of parliaments, where "doleful questionists" exhume imaginary grievances or display their "nerve" by claiming the increase in pay recently granted to fighting men for conscientious objectors in the non-combatant corps. the interest taken by one of this group in army dentistry inspires the wish that "the treatment of jaw-cases" mentioned by the under-secretary for war could be applied on the parliamentary front. head-hunting is in full swing. this classical sport, as practised in borneo, involved the discharge of poisoned darts through a blow-pipe, and the house of commons has not materially altered the method. in the attack of january 23 it is supposed that the head of the government was aimed at; but most of the shots went wide and hit the head of our army in france. ministers have not distinguished themselves except by their capacity for "butting-in" and eating their words. public opinion has been inflamed rather than enlightened by the discussions on unity of command, and the newspaper campaign directed against our war chiefs. meanwhile, the suffragists have triumphantly surmounted their last obstacle in the house of lords, and votes for women is now an accomplished fact. but the irish andromeda still awaits her perseus, gazing wanly at her various champions in convention. the ulsterman's plea for conscription in ireland has been rejected after sir auckland geddes had declared that it would be of no use as a solution of the present difficulty. he did not give his reasons, but they are believed to be conventional. mr. barnes has described the government as "living on the top of a veritable volcano," but, in spite of the context, the phrase must not be taken to refer to the minister of munitions, who, as everybody knows, cannot be sat upon. military experts tell us that this is a "q" war, meaning thereby that the quartermaster-general's department is the one that matters. naval experts sometimes drop hints attaching another significance to that twisty letter. harassed house-keepers are beginning to think that this is a "queue-war," and look to lord rhondda to end it. for the moment the elusive rabbit has scored a point against the food controller, but public confidence in his ability is not shaken. all classes are being drawn together by a communion of inconvenience. the sporting miner's wife can no longer afford dog biscuits: "our dog's got to eat what we eats now." and the pathetic appeal of the smart fashionable for lump sugar, on the ground that her darling fido cannot be expected to catch a spoonful of demerara from the end of his nose, leaves the grocer cold. a dairyman charged with selling unsatisfactory milk has explained to the bench that his cows were suffering from shell-shock. he himself is now suffering from shell-out-shock. at ramsgate a shopkeeper has exhibited a notice in his window announcing that "better days are in store." what most people want is butter days. [illustration: orderly sergeant: "lights out, there." voice from the hut: "it's the moon, sergint." orderly sergeant: "i don't give a d--what it is. put it out!"] the disquieting activities of the "giddy gotha" involve drastic enforcement of the lighting orders, and the moon is still an object of suspicion. pessimists and those critics who are never content unless each day brings a spectacular success, seem to have taken for their motto: "it's not what i mean, but what i say, that matters." but the moods of the non-combatant are truly chameleonic. civilians summoned to the war office pass from confidence to abasement, and from abasement to megalomania in the space of half an hour. turkey, it appears, has sent an urgent appeal to berlin for funds. the disaster to the _goeben_ can be endured, since the sultan can now declare a foreshore claim, and do a little salvage profiteering; but palestine is another matter. since general allenby's advance "running" expenses have swallowed up a formidable total. the war is teaching us many things, including geography. we are taking a lively interest in the ukraine, and the newspapers daily add to our stock of interesting knowledge. apropos of general allenby's entry into jerusalem, we learn that "the predominance of the tar brush in the streets added to the brightness of the scene," and in connection with his return to cairo, that "the maccabean boy scouts" took part in the reception--presumably the cadet corps of the jordan highlanders. but the most reassuring news comes from the enemy press. "it is simply a miracle," says the _cologne gazette_, "that the germans have so loyally stood by their leaders," and for once we are wholly in agreement with our german contemporary. if mr. punch may exert his privilege of turning abruptly to grave from gay, the claim may be allowed on behalf of the youngest generation, already remembered in the chronicle of last month. children of consolation by the red road of storm and stress their fathers' footsteps trod, they come, a cloud of witnesses, the messengers of god. cradled upon some radiant gleam, like living hopes they lie, the rainbow beauty of a dream against a stormy sky. before the tears of love were dried, or anguish comfort knew, the gates of home were opened wide to let the pilgrims through. pledges of faith, divinely fair, from peaceful worlds above against the onslaught of despair they hold the fort of love. [illustration: the civilian and the war office i am bidden to the war office. i depart for it. i approach it. i enter. i am not observed. i am still not observed. i am observed. i am spoken to (and still live). i continue to be spoken to. i am spoken to quite nicely. i am shaken hands with. i take my leave.] _february, 1918_. "watchman, what of the night?" the hours pass amid the clash of rumours and discordant voices--optimist, pessimist, pacificist. only in the answer of the fighting man, who knows and says little, but is ready for anything, do we find the best remedy for impatience and misgiving: "soldier, what of the night?" "vainly ye question of me; i know not, i hear not nor see; the voice of the prophet is dumb here in the heart of the fight. i count the hours on their way; i know not when morning shall come; enough that i work for the day." the first brest-litovsk treaty has been signed, followed in nine days by the german invasion of russia, an apt comment on what an english paper, by a misprint which is really an inspiration, calls "the brest nogotiations." the record of the bolshevist régime is already deeply stained with the massacre of the innocents, but lenin and trotsky can plead an august example. more than fourteen thousand british non-combatants--men, women and children--have been murdered by the kaiser's command. and the rigorous suppression of the strikes in berlin furnishes a useful test of his recent avowals of sympathy with democratic ideals. by way of a set-off the german press bureau has circulated a legend of civil war in london, bristling with circumstantial inaccuracies. the enemy's successes in the field--the occupation of reval and the recapture of trebizond--are the direct outcome of the russian _débâcle_. our capture of jericho marks a further stage in a sustained triumph of good generalship and hard fighting, which verifies an old prophecy current among the arabs in palestine and syria, viz. that when the waters of the nile flow into palestine, a prophet from the west will drive the turk out of the arab countries. the first part of the prophecy was fulfilled by the pipe-line which has brought nile water (taken from the fresh-water canal) for the use of the egyptian expeditionary force across the sinai desert to the neighbourhood of gaza. the second part was fulfilled by the fact that general allenby's name is rendered in arabic by exactly the same letters which form the words "el nebi," i.e. the prophet. [illustration: the liberators first bolshevik: "let me see; we've made an end of law, credit, treaties, the army and the navy. is there anything else to abolish?" second bolshevik: "what about war?" first bolshevik: "good! and peace too. away with both of 'em!"] at home we have seen the end of the seventh session of a parliament which by its own rash act should have committed suicide two years ago. truly the kaiser has a lot to answer for. on the last day but one of the session 184 questions were put, the information extracted from ministers being, as usual, in inverse ratio to the curiosity of the questioners. the opening of the eighth session showed no change in this respect. the debate on the address degenerated into a series of personal attacks on the premier by members who, not without high example, regard this as the easiest road to fame. the only persons who have a right to congratulate themselves on the discussion are the members of the german general staff, who may not have learned anything that they did not know before, but have undoubtedly had certain shrewd suspicions confirmed. mr. bonar law, in one of his engaging bursts of self-revelation, observed that he had no more interest in this prime minister than he had in the last; but the house generally seemed to agree with mr. adamson, the labour leader, who, before changing horses again, wanted to be sure that he was going to get a better team. a week later, on the day on which the prince of wales took his seat in the lords, lord derby endeavoured to explain why the government had parted with sir william robertson, the chief of the imperial staff, and replaced him by general wilson. it is hard to say whether the peers were convinced. simultaneously in the house of commons the prime minister was engaged in the same task, but with greater success. mr. lloyd george has no equal in the art of persuading an audience to share his faith in himself. how far our military chiefs approved the recent decision of the versailles conference is not known. but everyone applauds the patriotic self-effacement of sir william robertson in silently accepting the eastern command at home. in parliament the question of food has been discussed in both houses with the greatest gusto. throughout the country it is the chief topic of conversation. [illustration: secret diplomacy wife: "george, there are two strange men digging up the garden." george: "it's all right, dear. a brainy idea of mine to get the garden dug up. i wrote an anonymous letter to the food controller and told him there was a large box of food buried there." wife: "heavens! but there _is_!"] to the ordinary queues we now have to add processions of conscientious disgorgers patriotically evading prosecution. the problem "is tea a food or is it not?" convulses our courts, and the axioms of euclid call for revision as follows: "parallel lines are those which in a queue, if only produced far enough, never mean meat." "if there be two queues outside two different butchers' shops, and the length and the breadth of one queue be equal to the length and breadth of the other queue, each to each, but the supplies in one shop are greater than the supplies in the other shop, then the persons in the one queue will get more meat than those in the other queue, which is absurd, and rhondda ought to see about it." all the same, lord rhondda is a stout fellow who goes on his way with an imperviousness to criticism--criticism that is often selfish and contemptible--which augurs well for his ultimate success in the most thankless of all jobs. [illustration: indignant war-worker: "and she actually asked me if i didn't think i might be doing something! me? and i haven't missed a charity matinée for the last three months."] food at the front is another matter, and mr. punch is glad to print the tribute of one of his war-poets to the "cookers": the company cook is no great fighter, and there's never a medal for _him_ to wear, though he camps in the shell-swept waste, poor blighter, and many a cook has "copped it" there; but the boys go over on beans and bacon, and tommy is best when tommy has dined, so here's to the cookers, the plucky old cookers, and the sooty old cooks that waddle behind. "it is germany," says a german paper, "who will speak the last word in this war." yes, and the last word will be "kamerad!" but that word will be spoken in spite of many pseudo-war-workers on the home front. among the many wonders of the war one of the most wonderful is the sailor-man, three times, four times, five times torpedoed, who yet wants to sail once more. but there is one thing that he never wants to do again--to "pal" with fritz the square-head: "when peace is signed and treaties made an' trade begins again, there's some'll shake a german's 'and an' never see the stain; but _not me_," says dan the sailor-man, "not me, as god's on high- lord knows it's bitter in an open boat to see your shipmates die." among the ignoble curiosities of the time we note the following advertisements in a manchester newspaper of "wants" in our "indispensable" industries: "tennis ball inflators, cutters and makers" and "caramel wrappers"; while a brighton paper has "wanted, two dozen living flies weekly during the remainder of winter for two italian frogs." the situation in ireland remains unchanged, and suggests the following historical division of eras. (1) pagan era; (2) christian era; (3) de valera. _march, 1918_. once again the month of the war-god has been true to its name. march, opening in suspense, with the kaiser and his chancellor still talking of peace, has closed in a crisis of acute anxiety for the allies. the expected has happened; the long-advertised german attack has been delivered in the west, and the war of movement has begun. breaking through the fifth british army, in five days the germans have advanced twenty-five miles, to within artillery range of amiens and the main lateral railway behind the british lines. bapaume and péronne have fallen. the americans have entered the war in the firing line. it is the beginning of the end, the supreme test of the soul of the nation: the little things of which we lately chattered- the dearth of taxis or the dawn of spring; themes we discussed as though they really mattered, like rationed meat or raiders on the wing;- how thin it seems to-day, this vacant prattle, drowned by the thunder rolling in the west, voice of the great arbitrament of battle that puts our temper to the final test. thither our eyes are turned, our hearts are straining, where those we love, whose courage laughs at fear, amid the storm of steel around them raining, go to their death for all we hold most dear. new-born of this supremest hour of trial, in quiet confidence shall be our strength, fixed on a faith that will not take denial nor doubt that we have found our soul at length. o england, staunch of nerve and strong of sinew, best when you face the odds and stand at bay; now show a watching world what stuff is in you! now make your soldiers proud of you to-day! of our soldiers we at home cannot be too proud, from field-marshal to officer's servant. as one of mr. punch's correspondents at the front writes: "dawn to me hereafter will not be personified as a rosy-fingered damsel or a lovely swift-footed deity, but as a sturdy little man in khaki, crimson-eared with cold, heralded and escorted by frozen wafts of outer air, bearing in one knobby fist a pair of boots, and in the other a tin mug of black and smoking tea." as for the charities and courtesies of war, as interpreted by our soldiers, mr. punch can wish for no better illustration than in these lines on "the german graves": i wonder are there roses still in ablain st. nazaire, and crosses girt with daffodil in that old garden there. i wonder if the long grass waves with wild-flowers just the same, where germans made their soldiers' graves before the english came? the english set those crosses straight and kept the legends clean; the english made the wicket-gate and left the garden green; and now who knows what regiments dwell in ablain st. nazaire? but i would have them guard as well the graves we guarded there. and when at last the prussians pass among those mounds and see the reverent cornflowers crowd the grass because of you and me, they'll give, perhaps, one humble thought to all the "english fools" who fought as never men have fought but somehow kept the rules. [illustration: made in germany civilisation: "what's that supposed to represent?" imperial artist: "why, 'peace,' of course." civilisation: "well, i don't recognise it--and i never shall."] to turn from the crowning ordeal of our armies to the activities of british politicians on the eve of the great german attack is not a soul-animating experience. indeed, the efforts of messrs. snowden and trevelyan, pringle and king almost justify the assumption that hindenburg would have launched his offensive earlier but for his desire not to interfere with the great offensive conducted by his friends on the westminster front. our anti-patriots, however, are placed in a dilemma. they were bound to side with germany, because of their rooted belief that england always must be wrong. they were bound to hail the bolshevik self-determinators because of their entirely sound views on peace at any price. but now their two loves are fighting like cats. hence the problem: "which am i (both can't well be right), pro-german or pro-trotskyite?" discussions of pig shortage, commandeered premises, the relations of the government and press, and the duties of the directors of propaganda leave us cold or impatient. but members of all parties have been united in genuine grief over the death of mr. john redmond, snatched away just when his distracted country most needed his moderating influence. for in their anxiety not to interfere with the deliberations of those patriotic irishmen who are trying to settle how ireland shall be governed in the future, the government are allowing it to become ungovernable by anybody. a new and agreeable parliamentary innovation has been introduced by sir eric geddes in the shape of an immense diagram showing the downward tendency of the u-boat activities. other orators might with advantage follow this method. indeed, there are some whose speeches would be more enjoyable if they were all diagrams. as for that pledge of the new citizenship, the education bill, the debate on the second reading has been such a long eulogy of its author that mr. fisher would be well advised to offer a propitiatory sacrifice to nemesis. [illustration: by special request customer: "here, waiter, take a coupon off this and ask the band to play five-penn'orth of 'the roast beef of old england.'"] compulsory rationing is now an established fact, and the temporary disappearance of marmalade from the breakfast table has called forth many a _cri de coeur_. as one lyrist puts it: let beef and butter, rolls and rabbits fade, but give me back my love, my marmalade. and another has addressed this touching vow to margarine: whether the years prove fat or lean this vow i here rehearse: i take you, dearest margarine, for butter or for worse. it is reported that the government's standard suits for men's wear will soon be available. one is occasionally tempted to hope that women's costumes might be similarly standardised. [illustration: the coat that didn't come off] the german press announces the death of the notorious "captain of koepenick," and the _cologne gazette_ refers to him as "the only man who ever succeeded in making the german army look ridiculous." this is the kind of subtle flattery that the hohenzollerns really appreciate. _april, 1918_. we have reached the darkest hours of the war and the clouds have not yet lifted, though the rate of the german advance has already begun to slow down. on the 11th the enemy broke through at armentières and pushed their advantage till another wedge was driven into the british line. on the 12th sir douglas haig issued his historic order: "with our backs to the wall, and believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us must fight to the end. the safety of our homes and the freedom of mankind depend alike upon the conduct of each one of us at the critical moment." the amiens line being under fire, it was impossible to bring french reinforcements north in time to save kemmel hill and stave off the menace to the channel ports. the tale of our losses is grievous, and for thousands and thousands of families nothing can ever be the same again. the ordeal of paris has been renewed by shelling from the german long-distance gun, the last and most sensational of german surprise-packets. these are indeed dark days, yet already lit by hopeful omens--the closer union of the allies, the appointment of the greatest french military genius, general foch, as generalissimo of the allied forces, and his calm assurance that we have as yet lost "nothing vital." america is pouring men into france and, without waiting to complete the independent organisation of her army, has chivalrously sent her troops forward to be brigaded with french and british units. even now there are optimists, who are not fools, who maintain that germany has shot her last bolt and knows that she is losing. it is at least remarkable that german newspapers are daily excusing the failure of their offensive to secure all its objectives. there is clearly something wrong with the time-table and, in the race of man power, time is on the side of the allies. truth, long gagged and disguised, is coming to light in germany. this has been the month of the lichnowsky disclosures--the memoir of their ambassador, vindicating british diplomacy and saddling germany with the responsibility for the war. the time of publication is indeed unfortunate for the kaiser, who has been telling us how bitterly he hates war. [illustration: the coming army father: "here's to the fighter of lucky eighteen!" son: "and here's to the soldier of fifty!"] for now from german lips the world may know facts that should want some skill for their confounding- how potsdam forced alike on friend and foe a war of potsdam's sole compounding. how you, who itched to see the bright sword lunged, still bleating peace like innocent lambs in clover, in all that bloody business you were plunged up to your neck and something over. and, having fed on little else but lies, your people, with the hollow place grown larger now that the truth has cut off these supplies, may want your head upon a charger. [illustration: the death lord the kaiser (on reading the appalling tale of german losses): "what matter, so we hohenzollerns survive?"] and what has england's answer been, apart from the stubborn and heroic resistance of her men on the western front? the answer is to be found in the immediate resolve to raise the age limit for service to 50, still more in the glorious exploit of zeebrugge and ostend, in the incredible valour of the men who volunteered for and carried through what is perhaps the most astonishing and audacious enterprise in the annals of the navy. the pageantry of war has gone, but here at least is a magnificence of achievement and self-sacrifice on the epic scale which beggars description and transcends praise. the hornet's nest that has pestered us so long, if not rooted out, has been badly damaged; our sailors, dead and living, have once more proved themselves masters of the impossible. at home parliament, resuming business after the easter recess, began by giving a second reading to a drainage bill, and ended its first sitting in an irish bog. ireland throughout the month has dominated the proceedings, aloof and irreconcilable, brooding over past wrongs, blind to the issues of the war and turning her back on its realities. mr. lloyd george's plan of making home rule contingent on compulsory service has been described by mr. o'brien as a declaration of war on ireland. another nationalist member, who at question time urged on the war office the necessity of according to its irish employees exactly the same privileges and pay as were given to their british confrères, protested loudly a little later on against a bill which _inter alia_ extends to irishmen the privilege of joining in the fight for freedom. mr. asquith questioned the policy of embracing ireland in the bill unless you could get general consent. mr. bonar law bluntly replied that if ireland was not to be called upon to help in this time of stress there would be an end of home rule, and that if the house would not sanction irish conscription it would have to get another government. it remained for lord dunraven, before the passing of the bill in the house of lords, to produce as "a very ardent home ruler" the most ingenious excuse for his countrymen's unwillingness to fight that has yet been heard. ireland, he tells us, has been contaminated by the british refugees who had fled to that country to escape military service. [illustration: drake's way zeebrugge, st. george's day, 1918 admiral drake (to admiral keyes): "bravo, sir. tradition holds. my men singed a king's beard, and yours have singed a kaiser's moustache."] the prime minister, in reviewing the military situation, has attributed the success of the germans to their possessing the initiative and to the weather. members have found it a little difficult to understand why, if even at the beginning of march the allies were equal in numbers to the enemy on the west and if, thanks to the foresight of the versailles council, they knew in advance the strength and direction of the impending blow, they ever allowed the initiative to pass to the germans. it is known that hundreds of thousands of men have been rushed out of england since the last week of march. why, if sir douglas haig asked for reserves, were they not sent sooner? these mysteries will be resolved some day. meanwhile general trenchard, late chief of the air staff, and by general consent an exceptionally brilliant and energetic officer, has retired into the limbo that temporarily contains lord jellicoe and sir william robertson. but lord rothermere (lord northcliffe's brother), who still retains the confidence of mr. pemberton billing. remains, and all is well. the enemy possibly thinks it even better. "at least we should keep our heads," declared mr. pringle during the debate on the man-power bill. we are not sure about this. it depends upon the heads. it is a pity that the "new oxford dictionary" should have so nearly reached completion before the war and the emergence of hundreds of new words, now inevitably left out. the air service has a new language of its own, witness the conversation faithfully reported by an expert: scene: r.f.c. club. time: every time. _first pilot_. why, it's brown-jones! _second pilot_. hullo, old thing! what are you doing now? _first pilot_. oh, i'm down at puddlemarsh teaching huns--monoavros, pups and dolphins. _second pilot_. i'm on the same game, down at mudbank--sop-two-seaters and camels. we've got an old tinside, too, for joy-riding. _first pilot_. you've given up the rumpety, then? _second pilot_. yes. i was getting ham-handed and mutton-fisted, flapping the old things every day; felt i wanted to stunt about a bit. _first pilot_. have you ever butted up against robinson-smith at mudbank? he was an ack-ee-o, but became a hun. _second pilot_. yes, he crashed a few days ago--on his first solo flip, taking off--tried to zoom, engine konked, bus stalled--sideslip--nose-dive. not hurt, though. what's become of smith-jones? do you know? _first pilot_. oh, yes. he's on quirks and ack-ws. he tried spads, but got wind up. have you seen the new-----? _second pilot_. yes, it's a dud bus--only does seventy-five on the ceiling. too much stagger, and prop stops on a spin. besides, i never did care for rotaries. full of gadgets too. _first pilot_. well, i must tootle off now. i'm flapping from northbolt at dawn if my old airship's ready--came down there with a konking engine--plug trouble. _second pilot_. well, cheerio, old thing--weather looks dud--you're going to have it bumpy in the morning, if you're on a pup. _first pilot_, bye-bye, you cheery old bean. _[exeunt._ [illustration: the politician who addressed the troops] the emperor karl of austria, by his recent indiscretions, is winning for himself the new title of "his epistolic majesty." his suggestion that france ought to have alsace-lorraine has grated on the susceptibilities of his brother wilhelm. but a new fastidiousness is to be noted in the teuton character. "polygamy," says an article in a german review, "is essential to the future of the german race, but a decent form must be found for it." _may, 1918_. with the coming of may the vision of victory which had nerved germany to her greatest effort seemed fading from her sight. with its last days we see them making a second desperate effort to secure the prize, capturing soissons and the chemin des dames and pushing on to the marne. this time the french have borne the burden of the onslaught, but rheims is still held, the americans are pouring in to france at the rate of 250,000 a month, and have proved their mettle at cantigny, a small fight of great importance, as it "showed their fighting qualities under extreme battle conditions," in general pershing's words, and earned the praise of general debeney for the "offensive valour" of our allies. [illustration: the threatened peace offensive german eagle (to british lion): "i warn you--a little more of this obstinacy and you'll rouse the dove in me!"] the british troops have met sir douglas haig's appeal as we knew they would: their _will_ to _win_ let boches bawl as loudly as they choose, when once our back's against the wall 'tis not our _wont to lose_. those who have gone back at the seventh wave are waiting for the tide to turn. to the fainthearted or shaken souls who contend that no victory is worth gaining at the cost of such carnage and suffering, these lines addressed "to any soldier" may serve as a solvent of their doubts and an explanation of the mystery of sacrifice: if you have come through hell stricken or maimed, vistas of pain confronting you on earth; if the long road of life holds naught of worth and from your hands the last toil has been claimed; if memories of horrors none has named haunt with their shadows your courageous mirth and joys you hoped to harvest turn to dearth, and the high goal is lost at which you aimed; think this--and may your heart's pain thus be healed- because of me some flower to fruitage blew, some harvest ripened on a death-dewed field, and in a shattered village some child grew to womanhood inviolate, safe and pure. for these great things know your reward is sure. the germans have reached sevastopol, but the kaiser's junior partner in the south is only progressing in the wrong direction. while wilhelm is laboriously struggling to get nearer the sea, mehmed is getting farther and farther away from it. the attitude of russia remains obscure. mr. balfour tells us that it is not the intention of the government to appoint an ambassador to russia. but there is talk of sending out an exploration party to find out just where russia has got to. russia, however, is not the only country whose attitude is obscure. the leader of the irish nationalist party is reported to have said to a new york interviewer: "we believe that the cause of the allies is the cause of freedom throughout the world." at the same time, while repudiating the policy of the sinn feiners, he admitted that he had co-operated with them in their resistance to the demand that ireland should defend the cause of freedom. the creed of sinn fein--"ourselves alone"--is at least more logical than that of these neutral nationalists: and is not ours a noble creed with self uplifted on the throne? why should we bleed for others' need? our motto is "ourselves alone." why prate of ruined lands out there, of churches shattered stone by stone? we need not care how others fare, we care but for "ourselves alone." though mothers weep with anguished eyes and tortured children make their moan, let others rise when pity cries; we rise but for "ourselves alone." let justice be suppressed by might, and mercy's seat be overthrown; for truth and right the fools may fight, we fight but for "ourselves alone." meanwhile, the gentle mr. duke has retired from the chief secretaryship to the judicial bench; mr. shortt, his successor, recently voted against conscription for ireland; lord french, the new viceroy, is believed to favour it. the appointments seem to have been made on the cancelling-out principle, and are as hard to reconcile as the ministerial utterances on the recent german push. thus mr. macpherson declared that the crisis came upon us like a thief in the night, while on the same day mr. churchill observed that the german offensive had opened a month later than we had calculated, and consequently our reserves in munitions were correspondingly larger than they would have been. anyhow, it is a good hearing that the lost guns, tanks, and aeroplanes have all been more than replaced, and the stores of ammunition completely replenished, while at the same time munition workers have been released for the army at the rate of a thousand _a_ day. these results have been largely due to the wonderful work of the women, who turned out innumerable shells of almost incredible quality--not like that depicted by our artist. [illustration: the dud] mr. bonar law has brought in his budget and asked for a trifle of 842 millions. we are to pay more for our letters, our cheques, and our tobacco. the penny postage has gone, and the penny pickwick with it. for the rest we have had the maurice affair, which looked like a means of resurrecting the opposition but ended in giving the government a new lease of life, and sir eric geddes has given unexpected support to the allegations that the german pill-boxes were made of british cement. at least he admitted that the port of zeebrugge was positively congested with shiploads of the stuff. proportional representation has been knocked out for the fifth time in this parliament; and we have to thank sir mark sykes for telling us that the whip's definition of a crank is "a wealthy man who does not want a knighthood, or a nobleman who does not want to be an under-secretary." war is a great leveller. the carl rosa company are about to produce an opera by an english composer. and war _is_ teaching us to revise our histories. for example, "'nelson,' the greatest naval pageant film ever attempted, will," says the _daily news_, "tell the love story of nelson's life and the outstanding incidents of his career, including the destruction of the spanish armada." no scandal about queen elizabeth, we trust. the _daily news_, by the way, is much exercised by mr. punch's language towards the enemy, which it describes as being in the billingsgate vein. in spite of which rebuke, and at the risk of offending the readers of that patriotic organ, mr. punch proposes to go on saying just what he thinks of the kaiser and his friends. the price of tobacco, as we have seen, is becoming a serious matter, but ireland proposes to grapple with the problem in her own way. the ballinasloe asylum committee, according to an announcement in the _times_ of may 14, have decided, with the sanction of the authorities, to grow tobacco leaf for the use of their inmates. "a doctor said that if the patients were debarred from an adequate supply of tobacco there would be no controlling them." as a set-off to the anti-"cuthbert" campaign in the press the war cabinet has in its report declared that "the whole empire owes the civil service a lasting debt of gratitude." it looks as if there was something in red tape after all. we must not, however, fail to recognise the growth of the new competitive spirit in the sphere of production, and mr. punch looks forward to the establishment of cup competitions for clydesdale riveters and london allotment workers. woman's work in munition factories has already been applauded; her services on the land are now more in need than ever. [illustration: woman power ceres: "speed the plough!" ploughman: "i don't know who you are, ma'am, but it's no good speeding the plough unless we can get the women to do the harvesting." (fifty thousand more women are wanted on the land to take the place of men called to the colours, if the harvest is to be got in.)] _june, 1918_. the danger is not past, but grounds for hope multiply. the new german assault between montdidier and noyon has brought little substantial gain at heavy cost. the attacks towards paris have been held, and paris, with admirable fortitude, makes little of the attentions of "fat bertha." "the struggle must be fought out," declared the kaiser in the recent anniversary of his accession to the throne. in the meanwhile no opportunities of talking it out will be overlooked by the enemy. he is once more playing the old game of striving to promote discord between the allies. at the very moment when the official communiqués announced the capture of 45,000 prisoners, the chancellor began a new peace-offensive, aimed primarily at france, and supported by mendacious reports that the french government were starting for bordeaux, clemenceau overthrown, and foch disgraced. but the campaign of falsehood has proved powerless to shake france or impose on the german people. commandeered enthusiasm is giving place to grave discontent. the awakening of germany has begun, and the promise of a speedy peace falls on deaf ears. in the process of enlightenment the americans have played a conspicuous part, in spite of the persistent belittlement of the military experts in the official german press. the stars in their courses have sometimes seemed to fight for germany, but they are withdrawing their aid. [illustration: "complete accord"; or, all done by kindness imperial trainer (to his dog karl): "now then, no nonsense: through you go!"] [illustration: the celestial dud. kaiser: "ha! a new and brilliant star added to my constellation of the eagle!" general foch: "on the wane, i think." (it is anticipated in astronomical circles that the new star, _nova aquilae_, will shortly disappear.)] the long struggle between von kühlmann and the generals has ended in the fall of the minister; but not before he had indicated to the reichstag the possibility of another thirty years' war, and asserted that no intelligent man ever entertained the wish that germany should attain world-domination. there was a time when this frank reflection on the hohenzollern intelligence would have constituted _lèse-majesté._ coming from a minister it amounts to a portent. now he has gone, but the growing belief that military operations cannot end the war has not been scotched by his fall, and herr erzberger vigorously carries on the campaign against chancellor hertling and the generals. austria has been at last goaded into resuming the offensive on the italian front and met with a resounding defeat. it remains to be seen how turkey and bulgaria will respond to the urgent appeals of their exacting master. the ordeal of our men on the western front is terrible, but they have at least one grand and heartening stand-by in the knowledge that they have plenty of guns and no lack of shells behind them. this is the burden of the "song of plenty" from an old soldier to a young one: the shelling's cruel bad, my son, but don't you look too black, for every blessed german one he gets a dozen back- but i remember the days when shells were terrible few and never the guns could bark and blaze the same as they do for you. but they sat in the swamp behind, my boy, and prayed for a tiny shell, while fritz, if he had the mind, my boy, could give us a first-class hell; and i know that a 5.9 looks bad to a bit of a london kid, but i tell you you were a lucky lad to come out when you did. * * * * * up in the line again, my son, and dirty work, no doubt, but when the dirty work is done they'll take the regiment out- but i remember a day when men were terrible few and we hadn't reserves a mile away the same as there are for you, but fourteen days at a stretch, my boy, and nothing about relief; fight and carry and fetch, my boy, with rests exceeding brief; and rotten as all things sometimes are, they're not as they used to be, and you ought to thank your lucky star you didn't come out with me. * * * * * our mercurial premier lays himself open to a good deal of legitimate criticism, but for this immense relief, unstinted thanks are due to his energy and the devoted labours of the munition workers, women as well as men. the admiralty have decided not to publish the zeebrugge dispatches for fear of giving information to the enemy. all he knows at present is that a score and more of his torpedo-boats, submarines, and other vessels have been securely locked up in the bruges canal by british keyes. the minister of pensions has told the house the moving story of what has already been done to restore, so far as money and care can do it, the broken heroes of the war, and lord newton's alleged obstructiveness in regard to the treatment and exchange of prisoners has been discussed in the lords. mr. punch's own impression is that lord newton owes his unmerited position as whipping boy to the fact that he does not suffer fools gladly, even if they come in the guise of newspaper reporters; and that, unlike his illustrious namesake, he has no use for the theory of gravity. meanwhile the kaiser, with a sublime disregard for sunk hospital-ships and bombed hospitals, continues to exhibit his bleeding heart to an astonished world. [illustration: a pitiful pose teuton crocodile: "i do so feel for the poor british wounded. i only wish we could do more for them." "we germans will preserve our conception of christian duty towards the sick and wounded"--_from recent remarks of the kaiser reported by a german correspondent_.] now that the food controller has got into his stride, the nation has begun to realise the huge debt it owes to his firmness and organising ability, and is proportionately concerned to hear of his breakdown from overwork. the queues have disappeared, supplies are adequate, and there are no complaints of class-favouritism. [illustration: bobby (at the conclusion of dinner): "mother, i don't know how it is, but i never seem to get that--that--nice sick feeling nowadays."] it is remarkable how the british soldier will pick up languages, or at least learn to interpret them. only last week an american corporal stopped a british sergeant and said: "say, steve, can you put me wise where i can barge into a boiled-shirt biscuit-juggler who would get me some eats?" and the sergeant at once directed him to a café. the training of the new armies, to judge by the example depicted by our artist, affords fresh proof of the saying that love is a _liberal_ education. the situation on the parliamentary front has been fairly quiet. the popular pastime of asking when the promised home rule bill is to be introduced is no longer met by suitably varied but invariably evasive replies. the government has now frankly admitted that the policy of running home rule and conscription in double harness has been abandoned, and expects better things from the new pair: firm government and voluntary recruiting. but sceptics are unconvinced that the government will abandon the leniency prompted by "the insane view of creating an atmosphere in which something incomprehensible is to occur." [illustration: mistress (as the new troops go by): "which of them is your cousin?" nursemaid (unguardedly): "i don't know yet, ma'am."] the lavish and, in many cases, inexplicable distribution of the order of the british empire bids fair to add a peculiar lustre to the undecorated. the war has produced no stranger paradox than the case of the gentleman who within the space of seven days was sentenced to six months' imprisonment for a breach of the defence of the realm regulations and recommended for the o.b.e. on account of good services to the country. the fact that the recommendation was withdrawn hardly justified the assumption of a pacificist member that a sentence under the defence of the realm act was regarded as the higher honour of the two. there is one thing, however, that war at its worst cannot do. it cannot make an englishman forgo that peculiar and blessed birthright which enables him to overthrow the giant despair with the weapon of whimsical humour--in other words, to write, as a young officer has written for mr. punch, such a set of verses as the following in june, 1918: the best smell of all when noses first were carved for men of varied width and height, strange smells and sweet were fashioned then that all might know delight- smells for the hooked, the snub, the fine, the pug, the gross, the small, a smell for each, and one divine last smell to soothe them all. the baccy smell, the smell of peat, the rough gruff smell of tweed, the rain smell on a dusty street are all good smells indeed; the sea smell smelt through resinous trees, the smell of burning wood, the saintly smell of dairies--these are all rich smells and good. and good the smell the nose receives from new-baked loaves, from hops, from churches, from decaying leaves, from pinks, from grocers' shops; and smells of rare and fine bouquet proceed, the world allows, from petrol, roses, cellars, hay, scrubbed planks, hot gin and cows. but there's a smell that doth excel all other smells by far, even the tawny stable smell or the boisterous smell of tar; a smell stupendous, past compare, the king of smells, the prize, that smell which floods the startled air when home-cured bacon fries! all other smells, whate'er their worth, though dear and richly prized, are earthy smells and of the earth, are smells disparadised; but when that smell of smells awakes from ham of perfect cure, it lifts the heart to heaven and makes the doom of satan sure. how good to sit at twilight's close in a warm inn and feel that marvellous smell caress the nose with promise of a meal! how good when bell for breakfast rings to pause, while tripping down, and snuff and snuff till fancy brings all arcady to town! but best, when day's first glimmerings break through curtains half withdrawn, to lie and smell it, scarce awake, in some great farm at dawn; cocks crow, the milkmaid clanks the pails, the housemaid bangs the stairs; and bacon suddenly assails the nostrils unawares. noses of varied width and height doth kindly heaven bestow, and choice of smells for our delight, that all some joy may know; noses and smells for all the race that on this earth do dwell, and for a final act of grace the astounding bacon smell. but the war has its drawbacks, and owing to its unexpected prolongation there is a rumour that mr. h.g. wells will readjust his ideas on the subject quarterly instead of twice a week as before. _july, 1918._ "france's day" was held on july 14 under the auspices of the british red cross committee. but this has been france's month, the month in which the miracle of the first battle of the marne has been equalled by the second, and the germans have been hurled back across the fatal river by the tremendous counterstroke of general foch. [illustration: hun to hun attila (to little willie): "speaking as one barbarian to another, i don't recommend the neighbourhood. i found it a bit unhealthy myself." (attila's victorious progress across gaul was finally checked on the plains of châlons.)] [illustration: very much up a champagne counter-offensive] on the 15th the germans launched their great offensive. on the 20th they recrossed the marne, and are now entitled to complain that general foch not only took over the french and british armies, but has recently started taking over a good part of the german army. the neighbourhood has never been a healthy one for the huns since the days of attila. fritz has crossed the marne and recrossed it--according to plan--and is already on the way to the aisne. the battle of the rivers has begun again, but on new lines. yet this amazing turn of the tide has been taken very quietly in france and england. the allies have rung no joy-bells; they are content with doing their best to give germany no occasion for further indulgence in that form of jubilation. and germany is meeting them more than half way, their authorities having ordered a supplementary requisition of those church-bells which were exempted when the first confiscation was made. "at this heavy hour," said von kühlmann to the reichstag, "none of us fully realise what we owe to the german emperor." that was a month ago; the realisation of their indebtedness has since advanced by leaps and bounds. there are now 1,000,000 americans in france. but the kaiser and his war-lords are still passing their victims through the fire to the pan-german moloch, and threatening to send german generals to teach the austrian army how to win offensives. it is even reported that the germans contemplate placing the ex-king of greece on the throne of finland. fantastic rumours are rife in these days; but there is only too good reason to believe the report that the ex-tsar, the tsaritsa, and their daughters have all been murdered by their brutal captors at ekaterinburg. it seems but yesterday when nicholas was acclaimed as the saviour and regenerator of his people, and now tsardom, irrevocably fallen from its high estate, has gone down amid scenes of butchery and barbarity that eclipse the reign of terror in france. little has happened at westminster to indicate a consciousness on the part of the members of the great and glorious events in france. the irish expeditionary force, after an absence of three months and a severe training at home, has returned to the parliamentary front, and their war-cry is "devlin's the friend, not shortt!" but the chief secretary was able to make the gratifying announcement that the voluntary recruiting campaign is to be assisted by several nationalist m.p.'s, including captain stephen gwynn, who has been serving in the trenches, and colonel lynch, who, having raised one irish brigade to fight against us in the boer war, and been sentenced to death for doing it, has now, with an inconsistency we cannot too gratefully recognise, undertaken to raise another to fight on our side. mr. bonar law has revealed the interesting fact that only 288 members of the house of commons have received titles, decorations, or offices of profit since it was elected in december, 1910. the unnoticed residue are probably wondering whether it is their own modesty or the shortsightedness of ministers that has caused them to be passed over. mr. billing, after several pathetic but futile efforts to regain his place in the limelight, has at last succeeded in getting himself named, suspended, and forcibly assisted by four stalwart officials in his exit from the house--the most salutary movement, in the opinion of most members, with which he has yet been connected. admiral sir rosslyn wemyss, in a recent speech, said that the association between the two services, the royal navy and the mercantile marine, had been so close during the war, whatever that association might have been before, that it seemed to him almost incredible that it could ever be broken asunder. the first sea lord's statement is welcome and natural. but there is nothing really new in this solidarity of the seas. the secret of the ships is an old story: on their ventures in the service of a tudor king or queen all the ships were just as like as they could be, for the merchantman gave battle, while the royal ship was seen as a not too simple trader over-sea: being heirs to ancient customs, when their upper sails came down as a token of respect in passing by, they would add the salutation in a language of their own, "god speed you, we be sisters, thou and i." as the centuries receded came a parting of the ways till in time the separation went so far that a family was founded who were traders all their days, and another who were always men-of-war; but whene'er they dipped their colours, one in faith, they understood- and the sea, who taught them both, could tell you why- that the custom never altered, so the greeting still held good, "god speed you, we be sisters, thou and i." then in days of common sacrifice and peril was it strange that they ratified the union of the past? while their masters, unsuspecting, greatly marvelled at the change, but they prayed with all their souls that it would last; and the ships, who know the secret, go rejoicing on their way, for whatever be the ensign that they fly, such as keep the seas with honour are united when they pray, "god speed you, we be sisters, thou and i." [illustration: "war pictures" the mother: "of course, i don't understand them, dear; but they give me a dreadful feeling. i can't bear to look at them. is it really like that at the front?" the warrior (who has seen terrible things in battle): "thank heaven, no, mother."] england deplores the death of lord rhondda, who achieved success in the most irksome and invidious of offices. he undertook the duties of food controller in broken health, never spared himself, and died in harness. it is to be hoped that he realised what was the truth--that he had won not only the confidence but the gratitude of the public. spain has rendered herself unpleasantly conspicuous by developing and exporting a new form of influenza, and a spanish astrologer predicts the end of the world in a few months' time. but we are not going to allow those petty distractions to take our minds off the war. here we may note that baron burian's recent message indicates that but for the war everything would be all right in austria. our artists are certainly determined not to let us forget it. but the most valuable pictures do not find their way into galleries, though they do not lack appreciative spectators. [illustration: camouflage officer: "that's very clever. who did it?" sergeant. "oh, that's by perkins, sir--quite an expert. used to paint sparrows before the war and sell 'em for canaries."] no record of the month would be complete without notice of the unique way in which the fourth of july has been celebrated by john bull and uncle sam in france. truly such a meeting as this does make amends. _august, 1918_. july was a glorious month for the allies, and august is even better. it began with the recovery of soissons; a week later it was the turn of the british, and sir douglas haig struck hard on the amiens front; since then the enemy have been steadily driven back by the unrelenting pressure of the allies, bapaume and noyon have been recaptured, and with their faces set for home the germans have learnt to recognise in a new and unpleasant sense the truth of the kaiser's saying, "the worst is behind us." the 8th of august was a bad day for germany, for it showed that the counter-offensive was not to be confined to one section; that henceforth no respite would be allowed from hammer-blows. the german high command endeavours to tranquillise the german people by _communiqués_, the gist of which may thus be rendered in verse: in those very identical regions that sunder the marne from the aisne we advanced to the rear with our legions long ago and have done it again; fools murmur of errors committed, but every intelligent man has accepted the view that we flitted according to plan. the french rivers have found their voice again: 'twas the voice of the marne that began it with "garn! full speed, fritz, astarn!" then the ourcq and the crise sang "move on, if you please." the ardre and the vesle took up the glad tale, and cried to the aisne "wash out the hun stain." so all the way back from the marne the french rivers have given the boches in turn the cold shivers. [illustration: "according to plan" little willie: "well, father wanted a war of movement, and now he's got it!"] [illustration: von pot and von kettle german general: "why the devil don't you stop these americans coming across? that's your job." german admiral: "and why the devil don't you stop 'em when they _are_ across? that's yours."] [illustration: child (who has been made much of by father home on leave for the first time for two years): "mummy dear, i like that man you call your husband."] hindenburg has confided to a newspaper correspondent that the german people need to develop the virtue of patience. according to the _berliner tageblatt_ he has declared that he was not in favour of the july offensive. ludendorff, on the other hand, may fairly point out that it isn't his offensive any longer. anyhow, hindenburg is fairly entitled to give ludendorff the credit of it since ludendorff's friends have always said that he supplied the old mud-marshal with brains. the amenities of the high command are growing lively, since the navy is also concerned, and the failure of the u-boats to check the influx of american troops needs a lot of explaining away. the good news from the front has been received at home with remarkable composure, when one considers the acute anxiety of the last four months. but it is the way of england to endure felicity with calmness and adversity with fortitude. in the house of lords lord inchcape and lord emmott have been propitiating nemesis by their warnings of the gloomy financial future that is in store for us, while in the commons the bolshevist group below the gangway are apparently much perturbed by the prospect that russia may be helped on to her legs again by the allies. mr. dillon's indictment of the government for their treatment of ireland has had, however, a welcome if unexpected result. mr. shortt, the new chief secretary, an avowed and unrepentant home ruler, has been telling mr. dillon's followers a few plain truths about themselves: that they have made no effort to turn the home rule act into a practical measure; that instead of denouncing sinn fein they had followed its lead; that they had attacked the irish executive when they ought to have supported it, and by their refusal to help recruiting had forfeited the sympathy of the british working classes. mr. lloyd george, in his review of the war, warned the peacemongers not to expect their efforts to succeed until the enemy knew he was beaten, but vouchsafed no information as to his alleged intention to go to the country in the political sense. in spite of the premier's warning the pacificists made another futile attempt on the very next day to convince the house that the germans were ready to make an honest peace if only our government would listen to it. they were well answered by mr. robertson, who was a pacificist himself until this war converted him, and by mr. balfour, who declared that we were quite ready to talk to germany as soon as she showed any sign of a change of heart. up to the present there has been no sign of it. food is still the universal topic. small green apples, says a contemporary, are proving popular. a boy correspondent, however, desires mr. punch to say that he has a little inside information to the contrary. nottingham children, it is stated, are to be paid 3d. a pound for gathering blackberries, but they are not to use their own receptacles. captain amundsen is on his way to the pole, but we fear that he will not find any cheese there. the vocabulary of food control has even made its way to the nursery. a small girl on being informed by her nurse that a new little baby brother had come to live with her promptly replied: "well, he can't stay unless he's brought his coupons." [illustration: latest addition to ministry staff: "what's the tea-time here?" cicerone: "usual--three to five-thirty."] yet one of mr. punch's poets, in prophetic and optimistic strain, has actually dared to speculate on the delights of life without "dora"; dickens, with the foresight of genius, wrote in "david copperfield" how his hero "felt it would have been an act of perfidy to dora to have a natural relish for my dinner." the enterprise of _the times_ in securing the reminiscences of the kaiser's american dentist (or gum-architect, as he is called in his native land) has aroused mingled feelings. but the kaiser is reported to have stated in no ambiguous terms that if, after the war, any americans are to be given access to him, from ambassadors downwards, they must be able neither to read nor write. _the times_ is also responsible for the headline: "the archangel landing." there was a rumour of something of this kind after mons, but this is apparently official. one prominent effect of the war has been to make two propagandist departments flourish where none grew before, and it is to be feared that the reflection on the industry of our new officials implied in the picture on the previous page is not without foundation. war has not only stimulated the composition, but the perusal of poetry, especially among women: when the armageddon diet makes priscilla feel unquiet, she prescribes herself (from pope) an acidulated trope. when the lard-hunt ruffles rose wordsworth lulls her to repose, while a snippet from the "swan" stops the jam-yearn of yvonne. when the man-slump makes her fretty susie takes to d. rossetti, though her sister arabella rather fancies wilcox (ella). when evangelina swoons at the sound of the maroons, mrs. hemans comes in handy as a substitute for brandy. and when auntie heard by chance that the curate was in france, browning's enigmatic lyrics helped to save her from hysterics. _september, 1918_. since july 15th, when the kaiser mounted a high observation post to watch the launching of the offensive which was to achieve his crowning victory, but proved the prelude of the german collapse, the conflict has raged continuously and with uninterrupted success for the allied armies. the kaiser battle has become the battle of liberation. the french bore the initial burden of the attack, but since august 8 "hundreds of thousands of unbeaten tommies," to quote the phrase of a french military expert, have entered into action in a succession of attacks started one after the other all the way up to flanders. rawlinson, home, and byng have carried on the hammer work begun by mangin, gouraud, and debeney. péronne has been recovered, the famous drocourt-quéant switch-line has been breached, the americans have flattened out the st. mihiel salient. the perfect liaison of british and french and americans has been a wonderful example of combined effort rendered possible by unity of command. "marshal foch strikes to-day at a new front," is becoming a standing headline. and this highly desirable "epidemic of strikes" is not confined to the western front. as generalissimo of all the allied forces the great french marshal has planned and carried out an _ensemble_ of operations designed to shatter and demoralise the enemy at every point. the long inaction on the salonika front has been ended by the rapid and triumphant advance of the british, french, serbians, and greeks under general franchet d'esperey. eight days sufficed to smash the bulgarians, and the armistice then granted was followed four days later by the surrender of bulgaria. in less than a fortnight general allenby pushed north from jerusalem, annihilated the turkish armies in palestine, and captured damascus. and by the end of the month the hindenburg line had been breached and gone the way of the "wotan" line. wotan was not a happy choice: but even super-germans are wont at times to nod, and to borrow wotan's aegis was indubitably odd; for dark decline o'erwhelmed his line: he saw his god-head wane, and his stately palace vanish in a red and ruinous vain. [illustration: storm driven the kaiser: "i don't like this wind, my son. which way is it?" the crown prince: "up!"] [illustration: in reserve german eagle (to german dove): "here, carry on for a bit, will you i'm feeling rather run down."] well may the berlin _tageblatt_ say that "the war stares us in the face and stares very hard." when a daily paper announces "half crown prince's army turned over to another general," we are curious to know how much the half crown prince thinks the german sovereign worth. but the end is not yet. our pride in the achievements of our armies and generals, in the heroism of our allies and the strategy of marshal foch does not blind us to the skill and tenacity with which the germans are conducting their retreat. fritz is a tough fighter; if only he had fought a clean fight we could look forward to a thorough reconciliation. but that is a far cry for those who have been in the war, farthest of all for our sailormen, who can never forget certain acts of frightfulness. hans dans an' me was shipmates once, an' if 'e'd fought us clean, why shipmates still when war was done might hans an' me 'ave been; the truest pals a man can have are them 'e's fought before, but--never no more, hans dans, my lad, so 'elp me, never no more! austria has issued a peace note, and the german chancellor has declared that germany is opposed to annexation in any form. the german eagle, making a virtue of necessity, is ready to give the bird of peace an innings. [illustration: alarming spread of bobbing] the two emmas, ack and pip, are naturally furious at the adoption of the twenty-four hours' system of reckoning time, which means that their occupation will be gone, and that like other old soldiers they will fade away. amongst other innovations we have to note the spread of "bobbing," the further possibilities of which are alarming to contemplate. ferdinand, tsar of bulgaria, great grandson of philippe egalité, finding sofia unhealthy, has been recuperating at vienna. his future plans are vague, but it is thought he may join the ex-kings' club in switzerland. lenin, the bolshevist dictator, has recently experienced an attempt on his life, and retaliated in a fashion which would have done credit to a mediaeval despot. england still refuses to indulge in joy bells or bunting, but the london police have seized the occasion to strike on the home front. their operations have been promptly if inconsistently rewarded by the removal of their chief and his elevation to the baronetcy. parliament is not sitting, and the voice of the pro-boche and the pro-bolsh is temporarily hushed. we have to note, however, a most welcome _rapprochement_ between downing and carmelite streets--the _daily mail_ has praised the foreign office for an "excellent piece of work," and the scapegoat, unexpectedly caressed, is sitting up and taking nourishment. the harvest has been a success, thanks to the energy of the new land-workers, the armies behind the army: all the talent is here--all the great and the lesser, the proud and the humble, the stout and the slim, the second form boy and the aged professor, grade three and the hero in want of a limb. four years of war have brought curious changes to "our village": our baker's in the flying corps, our butcher's in the buffs, our one policeman cares no more for running in the roughs, but carves a pathway to the stars as trooper in the tenth hussars. the mayor's a dublin fusilier, the clerk's a royal scot, the bellman is a brigadier and something of a pot; the barber, though at large, is spurned; the blue boar's waiter is interned. the postman, now in egypt, wears a medal on his coat; the vet. is breeding belgian hares, the vicar keeps a goat; the schoolma'am knits upon her stool; the village idiot gathers wool. [illustrations: farmer and the farm labourer first week second week third week fourth week] the husbandman and his new help have undergone mutual transformation. and our cadet battalions are making themselves very much at home at oxford and cambridge. [illustration: cadet: "really, from the way these college authorities make themselves at home you'd think the place belonged to them."] the navy still remains the silent service, but, as the need for reticence is being relaxed by the triumph of our arms, we are beginning to learn something, though unofficially as yet, of that "plaything of the navy and nightmare of the huns"--the q-boat: she can weave a web of magic for the unsuspecting foe, she can scent the breath of kultur leagues away, she can hear a u-boat thinking in atlantic depths below and disintegrate it with a martian ray; she can feel her way by night through the minefield of the bight; she has all the tricks of science, grave and gay. in the twinkle of a searchlight she can suffer a sea-change from a collier to a _shamrock_ under sail, from a hyper-super-dreadnought, old leviathan at range, to a lightship or a whaler or a whale; with some canvas and a spar she can mock the morning star as a haystack or the flotsam of a gale. she's the derelict you chartered north of flores outward-bound, she's the iceberg that you sighted coming back, she's the salt-rimed biscay trawler heeling home to plymouth sound, she's the phantom-ship that crossed the moon-beams' track; she's the rock where none should be in the adriatic sea, she's the wisp of fog that haunts the skagerrack. recognition of services faithfully done is an endless task; but mr. punch is glad to print the valedictory tribute of one of the boys in blue to a v.a.d.--a class that has come in for much undeserved criticism. while willy-nilly i must go a-hunting of the hun, you'll carry on--which now i know (although i've helped to rag you so) means great work greatly done. among the minor events of the month has been the christening of a baby by the names of grierson plumer haig french smith-dorrien, as its father served under these generals. the idea is, no doubt, to prevent the child when older from asking: "what did you do in the great war, daddy?" england, as we have already said, endures its triumphs with composure. but our printers are not altogether immune from excitement. an evening paper informs us that "the dwifficuplties of passing from rigid trench warfare to field warfare are gigantic and perhaps unsurmountable." and only our innate sense of comradeship deters us from naming the distinguished contemporary which recently published an article entitled: "the importance of bray." _october, 1918_. the growing _crescendo_ of success has reached its climax in this, the most wonderful month of our _annus mirabilis._ every day brings tidings of a new victory. st. quentin, cambrai, and laon had all been recaptured in the first fortnight. on the 17th ostend, lille, and douai were regained, bruges was reoccupied on the 19th, and by the 20th the belgian army under king albert, reinforced by the french and americans, and with the second british army under general plumer on the right, had compelled the germans to evacuate the whole coast of flanders. the battle of liberation, which began on the marne in july, is now waged uninterruptedly from the meuse to the sea. only in lorraine has the advance of the american army been held up by the difficulties of the _terrain_ and the exceptionally stubborn resistance of the germans. elsewhere the "war of movement" has gone on with unrelenting energy according to foch's plan, which suggests a revision of pope: great foch's law is by this rule exprest, prevent the coming, speed the parting pest. the german, true to his character of the world's worst loser and winner, leaves behind him all manner of booby-traps, some puerile, many diabolical, which give our sappers plenty of work, cause a good many casualties, and only confirm the resolve of the victors. according to a german paper--the _rhenish westphalian gazette_--ex-criminals are being drafted into the german army. but the allies propose to treat them without invidious distinction. the crown prince recently observed that he had "many friends in the entente countries"; as a matter of fact, we seem to be getting them at the rate of about twenty-five thousand a week. the criminals in the german navy have again been busy, adding to their previous exploits the sinking of the passenger steamer _leinster_, in the irish channel, with heavy loss of life, the worst disaster of the kind since the torpedoing of the _lusitania_. yet it is germany that is the sinking ship. ferdinand of bulgaria has joined the league of abdication, and according to a sofia telegram, will devote himself to scientific pursuits. his only regret is that the allies thought of it first. prince friedrich karl of hesse says that his accession to the throne of finland will not take place for two years, and for the first time since his emergence into publicity we find ourselves in agreement with this monarch-elect. ludendorff has resigned. austria is suing for peace; count tisza asks: "why not admit frankly that we have lost the war?" the italians have crossed the piave, and the serbians have reached the danube. turkey has been granted an armistice, and with the daily victories of the allies comes the daily report that the kaiser has abdicated. [illustration: soldier and civilian marshal foch (to messrs. clemenceau, wilson and lloyd george): "if you're going up that road, gentlemen, look out for booby-traps."] prince max of baden, the successor of hertling in the chancellorship, whose appointment hardly bears out the promise of popular government, has issued a pacific manifesto which inspires an "epitaph in anticipation": in memory of poor prince max, who, posing as the friend of pax, yet was not noticeably lax in the true teuton faith which hacks its way along; forbidden tracks, marks bloody dates on almanacs and holds all promises as wax; breeding, where once we knew hans sachs, a race of monomaniacs.... but now illusion's mirror cracks, the radiant vision fades, the axe lies at the root. so farewell, max! certain people have proclaimed their opinion that the german nation ought not to be humiliated. when all is said, mr. punch saves his pity for our murdered dead. parliament has met again, not that there is any very urgent need for their labours just now. with a caution that seemed excessive mr. bonar law has thought it premature to discuss a military situation changing every hour--though happily always for the better--or even to propose a formal vote of thanks to men who are daily adding to their harvest of laurels. on better grounds discussion of mr. wilson's famous "fourteen points" and of demobilisation has been deprecated. the suggestion--made opportunely on trafalgar day--for securing marks of distinction for our merchant seamen gained a sympathetic hearing, and the proposal to make women eligible for parliament has been carried after a serious debate by an overwhelming majority in which the _ci-devant_ anti-suffragists were as prominent as the others. five years ago such a motion would have furnished an orgy of alleged humour, and been laughed out of the house. mr. dillon and his colleagues have put a great many questions about the torpedoing of the _leinster_ and the lack of an escort. but it is unfortunate that their tone suggested more indignation with the alleged laches of the admiralty than horror at the german crime. irish indignation over the outrage, according to a nationalist m.p., is intense; but not to the point of expressing itself in khaki. [illustration: die nacht am rhein] [illustration: prosperous irish farmer: "and what about the war, your riverence? do ye think it will hould?"] the woes of the irish harvest labourers in england have not yet been fully appreciated, and seem to demand a revised version of "moira o'neill's" beautiful poem: the irish exile over here in england i'm slavin' in the rain; six-an'-six a day we get, an' beds that wanst were clane; weary on the english work, 'tis killin' me that same- och, muckish mountain, where i used to lie an' dhrame! at night the windows here are black as father murphy's hat; 'tis fivepence for a pint av beer, an' thin ye can't get that; their beef has shtrings like anny harp, for dacent ham i hunt- och, muckish mountain, an' my pig's sweet grunt! sure there's not a taste av butthermilk that wan can buy or beg, thin their sweet milk has no crame, an' is as blue as a duck-egg; their whisky is as wake as wather-gruel in a bowl--och, muckish mountain, where the _poteen_ warms yer sowl! 'tis mesilf that longs for irish air an' gran' ould donegal, where there's lashins and there's lavins and no scarcity at all; where no wan cares about the war, but just to ate an' play- och, muckish mountain, wid yer feet beside the say! sure these englishmin don't spare thimselves in this thremenjus fight; they say 'tis life or death for thim, an', faith, they may be right; but father murphy tells me that it's no consarn av mine- och, muckish mountain, where the white clouds shine! over there in ireland we're very fond av peace, though we break the heads av orangemin an' batther the police; for we're all agin the governmint wheriver we may be- och, muckish mountain, an' the wild wind blowin' free! if they tuk me out to flandhers, bedad i'd have to fight, an' i'm tould thim jarman vagabones won't let ye sleep at night; so i'm going home to ireland wid english notes galore- och, muckish mountain, i will niver lave ye more! by way of contrast there is the mood of the old contemptibles, but it is only fair to add that there are irishmen among them: the old-timer 'e aint't bin 'ung with medals, like a lot o' chaps abaht; 'e's wore a little dingy but 'e isn't wearin' aht; 'is ole tin 'at is battered, but it isn't battered in, an' if 'e ain't fergot to grouse, 'e ain't fergot to grin. i fancy that 'e's aged a bit since fust the war begun; 'e's 'ad 'is fill o' fightin' an' 'e's 'ad 'is share o' fun; 'is eyes is kind o' quiet an' 'is mouth is sort o' set, but if i didn't know 'im well i wouldn't know 'im yet. i recollec' the look of 'im the time o' the retreat, the blood was through 'is toonic an' the skin was orf 'is feet; but "come aboard the bus," say 'e, "or you'll be lef be'ind!" an' takes me weight upon 'is back--it 'asn't slip me mind. it might 'ave 'appened yesterday, it comes to me so plain; 'e's dahn an' up a dozen times, a-reeling through the rain; it might 'ave bin lars' saturday i seem to 'ear 'im say: "there's plenty room a-top, me lad, an' nothin' more to pay." 'e ain't bin 'ung with medals like a blackamore with beads; 'e doesn't figure on the screen a-doin' darin' deeds; but reckon i'll be lucky if i gets to kingdom come along o' that contemptible wot wouldn't leave a chum. [illustration: first contemptible: "d'you remember halting here on the retreat, george?" second ditto: "can't call it to mind, somehow. was it that little village in the wood there down by the river, or was it that place with the cathedral and all them factories?"] amongst other items of news we have to chronicle the appointment of mr. arnold bennett as a director of propaganda, the steady growth of goat-keeping, and the exactions of taxi-drivers. it is now suggested that if one of these pirates should charge you largely in excess of his legal fare, you should tell him that you have nothing less than a five-pound note. if you have an honest face and speak kindly he will probably accept the amount. [illustration: the sands run out] mr. bonar law has been making trips to and from france by aeroplane. the report that a number of members of the opposition have been invited by the admiralty to make a descent in a depth-charge turns out to be unfounded. the prospects of peace are being discussed on public platforms, but, as yet, with commendable discretion. mr. roberts, our excellent minister of labour, has made bold to say that "the happenings of the last six weeks justify us in the belief that peace is much nearer than it was during the earlier part of the year." and a weekly paper has offered a prize of £500 to the reader who predicts the date when the war will end. meanwhile, hanover is said to have made hindenburg a birthday present of a house in the neighbourhood of the zoological gardens in that city, and we suggest that before this gift is incorporated in the peace-terms the words "the neighbourhood of" should be deleted. _november, 1918_. the end has come with a swiftness that has outdone the hopes of the most sanguine optimists. in the first eleven days of november we have seen history in the making on a larger scale and with larger possibilities than at any time since the age of napoleon, perhaps since the world began. [illustration: victory!] to take the chief events in order, the versailles conference opened on the 1st; on the 3rd austria gave in and the resolve of the german naval high command to challenge the grand fleet in the north sea was paralysed by the mutiny at kiel; on the 5th the versailles conference gave full powers to marshal foch to arrange the terms of an armistice, and president wilson addressed the last of his notes to germany; on the 6th the american army reached sedan; on the 9th marshal foch received erzberger and the other german envoys, the berlin revolution broke out, and the kaiser abdicated; on the 10th the kaiser fled to holland, and the british reached mons. the wheel had come full circle. the belgian, british, french, and american armies now formed a semi-circle from ghent to sedan, and threatened to surround the german armies already in retreat and crowded into the narrow valley of the meuse. everything was ready for foch's final attack; indeed, he was on the point of attacking when the germans, recognising that they were faced with the prospect of a sedan ten times greater than that of 1870, signed on november 11 an armistice which was equivalent to a military capitulation, and gave marshal foch all that he wanted without the heavy losses which further fighting would have undoubtedly involved. he had shown himself the greatest military genius of the war. here, in the words of one of his former colleagues at the ecole de guerre, he proved himself free from the stains which have so often tarnished great leaders in war, the lust of conquest and personal ambition. not only the allies, but the whole world owes an incalculable debt to this soldier of justice, compact of reason and faith, imperturbable in adversity, self-effacing in the hour of victory. glorious also is the record of the other french generals: the strong-souled pétain, hero of verdun; the heroic maunoury; castlenau and mangin, gouraud. debeney, and franchet d'esperey, captains courageous, worthy of france, her cause, and her indomitable _poilus_. in the record of acknowledgment france stands first since her sacrifices and losses have been heaviest, and she gave us in foch the chief organiser of victory, in clemenceau the most inspiring example of intrepid statesmanship. but the war could not have been won without england and the empire; without the ceaseless vigil in the north sea; without the heroes of jutland and coronel, of the falkland isles and zeebrugge, of the fleets behind the fleet; without the services of smith-dorrien at mons, french at ypres; without the dogged endurance, the inflexible will and the self-sacrificing loyalty of haig; the dash of maude and allenby; the steadfast leadership in defence and offence of plumer and byng, home and rawlinson and birdwood. [illustration: our man with mr. punch's grateful compliments to field-marshal sir douglas haig.] [illustration: the final tommy;(ex-footballer): "we was just wipin' them off the face of the earth when foch blows his whistle and shouts 'temps!'"] these are only some of the heroes who have added to the glories of our blood and state, but the roll is endless--wonderful gunners and sappers and airmen and dispatch riders, devoted surgeons and heroic nurses, stretcher-bearers and ambulance drivers. but mr. punch's special heroes are the second lieutenants and the tommy who went on winning the war all the time and never said that he was winning it until it was won. as for the young officers, dead and living, their record is the best answer to the critics, mostly of the arm-chair type, who have chosen this time to assail our public school system. in the papers of one of them killed on august 28 there was found an article written in reply to "the loom of youth," ending with these words: "perhaps the greatest consolation of these attacks on our greatest heritage in england (for we are the unique possessors of the public schools) is the conviction that they will have but little effect. every public school boy is serving, and one in every six gives up his life. they cannot be such bad places after all." of the great mistakes made by germany perhaps the greatest was in reckoning on the detachment of the dominions. the canadians have made answer on a hundred stricken fields before and after vimy ridge. australia gave her goodliest at gallipoli, crowning the imperishable glory of those who died there by her refusal to make a grievance of the apparent failure of the expedition, and by the amazing achievement of her troops in the last six months of the war. the immortal dead, british, australians, new zealanders, who fell in the great adventure of the narrow straits are not forgotten in the hour of triumph. gallipoli _qui procul hinc ante diem perierunt_. ye unforgotten, that for a great dream died, whose failing sense darkened on peaks unwon, whose souls went forth upon the wine-dark tide to seas beyond the sun, far off, far off, but ours and england's yet, know she has conquered! live again, and let the clamouring trumpets break oblivion! not as we dreamed, nor as you strove to do, the strait is cloven, the crag is made our own; the salt grey herbs have withered over you, the stars of spring gone down, and your long loneliness has lain unstirred by touch of home, unless some migrant bird flashed eastward from the white cliffs to the brown. hard by the nameless dust of argive men, remembered and remote, like theirs of troy, your sleep has been, nor can ye wake again to any cry of joy; summers and snows have melted on the waves. and past the noble silence of your graves the merging waters narrow and deploy. but not in vain, not all in vain, thank god; all that you were and all you might have been was given to the cold effacing sod, unstrewn with garlands green; the valour and the vision that were yours lie not with broken spears and fallen towers, with glories perishable of all things seen. children of one dear land and every sea, at last fulfilment comes--the night is o'er; now, as at samothrace, swift victory walks winged on the shore; and england, deathless mother of the dead, gathers, with lifted eyes and unbowed head, her silent sons into her arms once more. crowns and thrones have rocked and toppled of late, but our king and queen, by their unsparing and unfaltering devotion to duty, by their simplicity of life and unerring instinct for saying and doing the right thing, have not only set a fine example, but strengthened their hold on the loyalty of all classes. and king albert, who defied germany at the outset, shared the dangers of his soldiers in retreat and disaster, and throughout the war proved an inspiration to his people, has been spared to lead them to victory and has gloriously come into his own again. his decision to resist germany was perhaps the most heroic act of the war, and he has emerged from his tremendous ordeal with world-wide prestige and unabated distaste for the limelight. the liberation and resurrection of belgium and serbia have been two of the most splendid outcomes of the world war, as the _débâcle_ in russia and the martyrdom of armenia have been its greatest tragedies. parliament has been seen at its best and worst. when the prime minister rose in the house on the afternoon of the 11th to announce the terms of the armistice signed at 5 a.m. that morning, members from nearly all parts of the house rose to acclaim him. even "the ranks of tuscany" on the front opposition bench joined in the general cheering. only mr. dillon and his half-dozen supporters remained moody and silent, and when mr. speaker, in his gold-embroidered joy-robes, headed a great procession to st. margaret's church, and the ex-premier and his successor--the man who drew the sword of britain in the war for freedom and the man whose good fortune it has been to replace it in the sheath--fell in side by side, behind them walked the representatives of every party save one. mr. dillon and his associates had more urgent business in one of the side lobbies--to consider, perhaps, why lord grey of falloden, in his eve-of-war speech, had referred to ireland as "the one bright spot." this irish aloofness is wondrously illustrated by the _sunday independent_ of dublin, which, in its issue of november 10, spoke of a racing event as the only redeeming feature of "an unutterably dull week." we have to thank mr. dillon, however, for unintentionally enlivening the dulness of the discussion on the relations of lord northcliffe to the ministry of information and his forecast of the peace terms. mr. baldwin, for the government, while endeavouring to allay the curiosity of members, said that "napoleons will be napoleons." mr. dillon seemed to desire the appointment of a "northcliffe controller," but that is impracticable. all our bravest men are too busy to take on the job. better still was the pointed query of lord henry bentinck, "is it not possible to take lord northcliffe a little too seriously?" but there are other problems to which the house has been addressing itself with a justifiable seriousness--and demobilisation, the shortage of food and coal, and the question how at the same time we are to provide for the outlay of coals of fire and feed the huns and not the guns. and how has england taken the news? in the main soberly and in a spirit of infinite thankfulness, though in too many thousands of homes the loss of our splendid, noble and gallant sons--alas! so often only sons--who made victory possible by the gift of their lives, has made rejoicing impossible for those who are left to mourn them. yet there is consolation in the knowledge that if they had lived to extreme old age they could never have made a nobler thing of their lives. shakespeare, who "has always been there before," wrote the epitaph of those who fell in france when he spoke of one who gave his body to that pleasant country's earth, and his pure soul unto his captain, christ, under whose colours he had fought so long. [illustration: armistice day small child (excitedly): "oh, mother, what _do_ you think? they've given us a whole holiday to-day in aid of the war."] and it is a source of unspeakable joy that our children are safe. for though to most of them their ignorance has been bliss, they have not escaped the horrors of a war in which non-combatants have suffered worse than ever before. only the healing hand of time can allay the grief of those for whom there can be no reunion on earth with their nearest and dearest: at last the dawn creeps in with golden fingers seeking my eyes, to bid them open wide upon a world at peace, where sweetness lingers, where terror is at rest and hate has died. loud soon shall sound a paean of thanksgiving from happy women, welcoming their men, life born anew of joy to see them living. mother of pity, what shall i do then? of the people at large mr. punch cannot better the praise of one, the late mr. henry james, who was nothing if not critical, and who proved his love of england by adopting her citizenship in the darkest hour of her need: "they were about as good, above all, when it came to the stress, as could well be expected of people. they didn't know how good they were," and if they lacked imagination they stimulated it immensely in others. apart from some effervescence in the great cities, armistice day was celebrated without exultation or extravagance. in one village that we know of the church bells were rung by women. in london our deliverance was to many people marked in the most dramatic way by the breaking of his long silence by big ben: gone are the days when sleep alone could break war's grim and tyrannous spells; now it is rest and joy to lie awake and listen to the bells. so the great war ended. but there yet remained the most dramatic episode of all--the surrender of the german fleet to admiral beatty at scapa flow--a surrender unprecedented in naval history, a great victory won without striking a blow, which yet brought no joy to our grand fleet. for our admirals and captains and bluejackets felt that the germans had smirched the glory of the fighting men of the sea, hitherto maintained in untarnished splendour by all vanquished captains from the days of carthage to those of cervera and cradock. [illustration: in honour of the british navy to commemorate the surrender of the german fleet] epilogue it remains to trace in brief retrospect the record of "the months between"--a period of test and trial almost as severe as that of the war. having steadfastly declined the solution of a peace without victory, the allies entered last november on the transitional period of victory without peace. the fighting was ended in the main theatres of war, the kaiser and crown prince, discrowned and discredited, had sought refuge in exile, the great german war machine had been smashed, and demobilisation began at a rate which led to inevitable congestion and disappointment. the prosaic village blacksmith was not far out when, in reply to the vicar's pious hope that the time had come to beat our sword into a ploughshare, he observed, "well, i don't know, sir. speaking as a blacksmith of forty-five years' experience, i may tell you it can't be done." "the whole position is provisional," said the _times_ at the end of november. if germany, austria, and russia were to be fed, how was it to be done without disregarding the prior claims of serbia and roumania? even at home the food question still continued to agitate the public mind. the general election of december, 1918, which followed the dissolution of the longest parliament since the days of charles ii., was a striking, if temporary proof, of the persistence of the rationing principle. it proved a triumph for the coalition "coupon" and for mr. lloyd george; the extremists and pacificists were snowed under; mr. asquith was rejected and his followers reduced to a mere handful; labour came back with an increased representation, though not as great as it desired or deserved. the triumph of the irreconcilables in ireland was a foregone but sinister conclusion to their activities in the war, and an ominous prelude to their subsequent efforts to wreck the pence. the pledges in regard to indemnities, the treatment of the kaiser, and conscription so lavishly given by the coalition leaders caused no little misgiving at the time, and pledges, like curses, have an awkward way of coming home to roost. mr. punch's views on the kaiser, expressed in his christmas epilogue, are worth recalling. mr. punch did not clamour for the death penalty, or wish to hand him over to the tender mercies of german kultur. "the only fault he committed in german eyes is that he lost the war, and i wouldn't have him punished for the wrong offence--for something, indeed, which was our doing as much as his. no, i think i would just put him out of the way of doing further harm, in some distant penitentiary like the devil's island, and leave him to himself to think it all over; as _caponsacchi_ said of _guido_ in 'the ring and the book': not to die so much as slide out of life, pushed by the general horror and common hate low, lower--left o' the very edge of things." [illustration: "don't you think we ought to hang the kaiser, mrs. 'arris?" "it ain't the kaiser i'm worrying about--it's the bloke what interjuiced his war-bacon."] [illustration: reunited strasbourg, december 8th, 1918.] christmas, 1918, was more than "the children's truce." our bugles had "sung truce," the war cloud had lifted, the invaded sky was once more free of "the grim geometry of mars," and though very few households could celebrate the greatest of anniversaries with unbroken ranks, the mercy of reunion was granted to many homes. yet mr. punch, in his christmas musings on the solemn memory of the dead who gave us this hour, could not but realise the greatness of the task that lay before us if we were to make our country worthy of the men who fought and died for her. the war was over, but another had yet to be waged against poverty and sordid environment; against the disabilities of birth; against the abuse of wealth; against the mutual suspicions of capital and labour; against sloth, indifference, self-complacency, and short memories. so the old year passed, the last of a terrible _quinquennium,_ bringing grounds for thankfulness and hope along with the promise of unrest and upheaval: with alsace-lorraine reunited to france, with the british army holding its watch on the rhine, and with all eyes fixed on paris, the scene of the peace conference, already invaded by an international army of delegates, experts, advisers, secretaries, typists, 500 american journalists, and president wilson. great expectations and their tardy fulfilment, thus in headline fashion might one summarise the story of 1919, with peace, the world's desire, waiting for months outside the door of the conference chamber, with civil war in germany, berlin bombed by german airmen, and anarchy in russia, and here at home impatience and discomfort, aggravated in the earlier months by strikes and influenza, the largely increased numbers of unemployed politicians, the weariest and dreariest of winter weather. [illustration: reconstruction: a new year's task] yet even january had its alleviations in the return of the banana, the prospect of unlimited lard, a distinct improvement in the manners of the retail tradesman, the typographical fireworks of the _times_ in honour of president wilson, and the retreat of lord northcliffe to the sunny south. lovers of sensation were conciliated by the appointment of "f.e." to the lord chancellorship, the outbreak of jazz, and the discovery of a french author that the plays usually attributed to shakespeare were written by lord derby, though not apparently the present holder of the title. the loss, through rejection or withdrawal, of so many of his old parliamentary puppets was a serious blow to mr. punch, but the old liberals, buried like the babes in the wood beneath a shower of coalition coupons, already showed a sanguine spirit, and the departure of the freaks could be contemplated with resignation. the great exodus to paris began in december, but it reached its height in january. the mystery of the foreign office official who had _not_ gone was cleared up by the discovery that he was the caretaker, a pivotal man who could not be demobilised. another exodus of a less desirable sort was that of the sinn fein prisoners, which gave rise to the rumour that the lord lieutenant had threatened that if they destroyed any more jails they would be rigorously released. sinn fein, which refused to fight germany, had already begun to play at a new sort of war. australia was preparing to welcome the homing transports sped with messages of godspeed from the motherland: rich reward your hearts shall hold, none less dear if long delayed, for with gifts of wattle-gold shall your country's debt be paid; from her sunlight's golden store she shall heal your hurts of war. ere the mantling channel's mist dim your distant decks and spars, and your flag that victory kissed and valhalla hung with stars- crowd and watch our signal fly: "gallant hearts, good-bye! _good-bye!"_ [illustration: the 1919 model mr. punch: "they've given you a fine new machine, mr. premier, and you've got plenty of spirit, but look out for bumps."] february, a month of comparative anti-climax, witnessed the reassembling of parliament, fuller than ever of members if not of wisdom. as none of the sinn feiners were present, nor indeed any representative of irish nationalism, the proceedings were as orderly as a quaker's funeral, save for the arrival of one member on a motor-scooter. perhaps the most interesting information elicited during the debates was this--that every question put down costs the tax-payer a guinea. on february 20th there were 282 on the order paper, and mr. punch was moved to wonder whether this cascade of curiosity might be abated if every questionist were obliged to contribute half the cost, the amount to be deducted from his official salary. the speaker, the greatest of living parliamentarians, was re-elected by acclamation. though human and humorous, he has grown into something almost more like an institution than a man, like big ben, that great patriot and public servant who never struck during the war. the best news in february was that of m. clemenceau's escape, though wounded, from the anarchist assassin who had attempted to translate trotsky's threat into action. but it did not help on the proposed conference with the russians at prinkipo or encourage the prospect of any tangible results from the deliberation of the prinkipotentiaries. the plain man could see no third choice beyond supporting bolshevism or anti-bolshevism. but according to our prime minister, we were committed to a compromise. the allies were not prepared to intervene in force, and they could not leave russia to stew in her own hell-broth. meanwhile the chief criminal, germany, had begun to utter _ad misericordiam_ appeals for the relaxation of the armistice terms on the score of their cruelty; and count brockdorff-rantzau gave us a foretaste of his quality by declaring that "germany cannot be treated as a second-rate nation." [illustration: "how was it you never let your mother know you'd won the v.c.?" "it wasna ma turrn tae write."] [illustration: england expects (with mr. punch's best hopes for the success of the national industrial conference.) both lions (together): "unaccustomed as i am to lie down with anything but a lamb, still, for the sake of the public good ... "] at home, though the rays of "sweet unrationed revelry" were still to come, and _dulce domum_ could not yet be sung in every sense, february brought us some relief in the demobilisation of the pivotal pig. and the decision to hold a national industrial conference was of encouraging augury for the settlement of industrial strife on the basis of a full inquiry and frank statement of facts. in other walks of life reticence still has its charms, and even in february people had begun to ask who the general was who had threatened not to write a book about the war. march, the mad month, remained true to type. even mr. punch found it hard to preserve his equanimity: o month, before your final moon is set much may have happened--anything, in fact; more than in any march that i have met, (last year excepted) fearful nerves are racked; anarchy does with russia what it likes; paris is put conundrums very knotty; and here in england, with its talk of strikes, men, like your own march hares, seem going dotty. abroad the ex-kaiser was very busy sawing trees, possibly owing to an hallucination that they were german generals. [illustration: the easter offering mr. lloyd george (fresh from paris): "i don't say it's a perfect egg, but parts of it, as the saying is, are excellent."] at home the government decided to release such of the sinn fein prisoners as had not already saved them the trouble, and a coal industry commission was appointed on which no representative of the general public was invited to sit--that is to say, the patient, much enduring consumer, not the public which has all along sought to discount peace by premature whooping, jubilating, and jazzing. for the dove of peace, though in strict training, seemed in danger of collapsing under the weight of the league of nations' olive bough, to say nothing of other perils, notably the bolshy-bird, a most obscene brand of vulture. mr. wilson was once more on the atlantic, and mr. lloyd george, distracted between his duties in paris and the demands of labour, recalled sir boyle roche's bird, or the circus performer riding two horses at once. in parliament the interpretation of election pledges occupied a good deal of time, and mr. bonar law twice declared the policy of the government in regard to indemnities as being to demand the largest amount that germany could pay, but not to demand what we knew she couldn't pay. it would have saved him a great deal of trouble if at the general election the government spokesmen had insisted as much upon the second half of the policy as they did on the first. earnest appeals for economy were made from the treasury bench on the occasion of the debate on the civil service estimates, now swollen to five times their pre-war magnitude, and were heartily applauded by the house. to show how thoroughly they had gone home, mr. adamson, the labour leader, immediately pressed for an increase in the salaries of members of parliament. [illustration: overweighted president wilson: "here's your olive branch. now get busy." dove of peace: "of course, i want to please everybody, but isn't this a bit thick?"] [illustration: how to brighten the period of reaction mother (to son who has fought on most of the fronts): "don't you know what to do with yourself, george? why don't you 'ave a walk down the road, dear?" father: "ah, 'e ain't seen the corner where they pulled down simmondses' fish-shop, 'as 'e. ma?"] on the rhine the efforts of our army of occupation to present the stern and forbidding air supposed to mark our dealings with the inhabitants were proving a lamentable failure. you can't produce a really good imitation of a hun without lots of practice. gloating is entirely foreign to the nature of thomas atkins, and he could not pass a child yelling in the gutter without stooping to comfort it. at home his education was proceeding on different lines. the period of reaction had set in, and unwonted exertions were necessary to stimulate his interest. such artless devices were, however, preferable to the pastime, already fashionable in more exalted circles, of kicking a total stranger round the room to the accompaniment of cymbals, a motor siren, and a frying pan. after a month of madness it was not to be wondered at that we should have a month of muzzling, though the enforcement of the order might have been profitably extended from dogs to journalists. the secrecy maintained by the big four--a phrase invented by america--the conflict of the idealists with the realists, and the temporary break-away of the italian wrestler, orlando, were bound to excite comment. but a shattered world could not be rebuilt in a day, with bolshevist wolves prowling about the temple of peace, and the dove at sea between the ark and archangel. the covenant of the league of nations, though in a diluted form, had at last taken shape, the peace machine had got a move on, and the premier's spirited, if not very dignified, retaliation on the newspaper snipers led to an abatement of unnecessary hostilities, though the pastime of shooting policemen with comparative impunity still flourished in ireland, and the numbers and cost of our "army of inoccupation" still continued to increase. innumerable queries were made in parliament on the subject of the unemployment dole, but the announcement that the admiralty did not propose to perpetuate the title "grand fleet" for the principal squadron of his majesty's navy passed without comment. the grand fleet is now a part of the history that it did so much to make. may and june were "hectic" months, in which the reaction from the fatigues and restraints of war found vent in an increased disinclination for work, encouraged by a tropical sun. these were the months of the resumption of cricket, the victory derby, the flood of honours, and the flying of the atlantic, with a greater display of popular enthusiasm over the gallant airmen who failed in that feat than over the generals who had won the war. they were also the months of the duel between mr. smillie and the dukes, the discovery of oil in derbyshire, the privileged excursion into war polemics of lord french, unrest in egypt, renewed trouble with the police, and a shortage of beer, boots and clothes. [illustration: "end of a perfect 'tag'"] but though the big four had been temporarily reduced to a big three by italy's withdrawal, and though m. clemenceau, mr. lloyd george, and president wilson had all suffered in prestige by the slow progress of the negotiations, versailles, with the advent of the german delegates, more than ever riveted the gaze of an expectant world. to sign or not to sign, or, in the words of wilhelm shakespeare, _sein oder nicht sein: hier ist die frage_--that was the problem which from the moment of his famous opening speech count brockdorff-rantzau was up against. but, as the days wore on, in spite of official impenitence and the double breach of the armistice terms by the scuttling of the german war-ships at scapa and the burning of the french flags at berlin, the force of "fierce reluctant truculent delay" was spent against the steadily growing volume of national acquiescence, culminating in the decision of the weimar assembly, the tardy choice of new delegates, and the final scene in the hall of mirrors, haunted by the ghosts of 1871. writing at the moment of the signature of peace and in deep thankfulness for the relief it brings to a stricken world, mr. punch is too old to jazz for joy, but he is young enough to face the future with a reasoned optimism, born of a belief in his race and their heroic achievements in these great and terrible years. victory took us by surprise; and we were less prepared for peace at that moment than we had ever been for war. and just as in the first days of the fighting we went astray, running after the cry "business as usual," so to-day we are making as bad a mistake when we run after "pleasure as usual"--or rather more than usual. but we soon revised that early error, and we shall not waste much time about revising this. for though we lacked imagination then, and still lack it, we have the gift, perhaps even more useful if less showy, of commonsense. and when commonsense is found in natures that are honest and hearts that are clean, it may make mistakes, but not for long. no, the spirit which won the war is not going to fail us at this second call. perhaps we have only been waiting for the actual coming of peace to settle down to our new and greater task. but let us never forget the debt, unpaid and unpayable, to our immortal dead and to the valiant survivors of the great conflict, to whom we owe freedom and security and the possibility of a better and cleaner world. [illustration: ghosts at versailles] index "according to plan," admirals, retired, accept commissions in r.n.r. admiralty and zeebrugge despatches africa, german south-west, botha makes clean sweep in after one year airmen, allied bombard karlsruhe german, increased activity of air raids daylight, extend to london public to be warned aisne, battle of alarming spread of bobbing albert, king of belgium tribute to victorious on flanders coast allenby, general advances steadily captures damascus enters jerusalem allied council, new, formed allotment workers alsace-lorraine reunited to france also ran america enters war war of notes american, an, interviews german crown prince american troops enter firing line first land in france ammunition expended round neuve chapelle amundsen, roald, prepares for trip to north pole ancre, british push extends to anglia, east, air-raids in antwerp, fall of anzac, british heroism at armenia, martyrdom of armentières, germans break through at armistice big ben breaks silence how england took news of signed women ring church bells armistice day army signalling alphabet asquith, mr. ceases to be prime minister discusses new votes of credit goes to ireland promises to purge peerage of enemy dukes recants hostility to women's suffrage rejected at general election athens, riot in "au revoir!" australians, valour of austria defeated by serbia defeated on italian front gives in issues peace note sues for peace threatens roumania austrians driven from belgrade bad dream, a baghdad, taken by british balfour, mr. appointed first lord returns from u.s.a. balkans, irrelevant news from banana, return of the bapaume germans take recaptured by allies beatty, admiral, german fleet surrenders to belgium opposes german invasion resurrection of belgrade occupied by enemy bennett, mr. arnold, appointed director of propaganda berlin bombed french flags burnt at revolution breaks out strikes in, suppressed bernstorff, count mendacity of promotes strikes in u.s.a. best smell of all, the bethmann-hollweg dismissed, betrayed, big four's secrecy, big push, the, billing, mr. pemberton elected for mid-herts, offers to raid enemy aircraft bases. suspended from house of commons, birdwood, general, birrell, mr., apologia of, bismarck, prince, bissing, baron von, reported dead, retires from belgium, bloaters, unprecedented price of, _blücher_, the, sunk by british, blume, general von, depreciates american intervention, boat-race, oxford and cambridge, suspended, bobbing, alarming spread of, bordeaux, paris government removed to, botha, general enters war, makes clean sweep in s.w. africa, bottomley, mr. horatio, visits france, bravo, belgium, brazil enters war, bread, curtailment of, brest-litovsk conference, taken by enemy, treaty signed, british expeditionary force lands in france, brockdorff-rantzau, count, bruges reoccupied by allies, brusiloff, general opens new russian offensive, successful against austrians, brussels fall of, murder of edith cavell at, buckmaster, lord, appointed lord chancellor, bukarest, fall of, bulgaria surrenders, bulgarians smashed by allies, bull-dog breed, the, bungalows, government, increase of, burns, mr. john, re-emerges, byng, general, victory at cambrai, byron, lord, and greece, by special request, cabinet pool salaries, cadet battalions housed in colleges, caligny, americans at, callousness of smart people, cambrai byng's victory at, recaptured by allies, cambridge, cadet battalions at, camouflage, new art of, caporetto, enemy break through at, "captain of koepenick" reported dead, carson, sir edward pays tribute to major redmond, resigns office, casement, sir roger, and german kaiser, castlenau, general, casualties, british, cavell, edith murder of, names of her principal assassins, cecil, lord robert, appointed minister of blockade, celestial dud, the, censorship and war correspondents, challenge, the, chamberlain, mr. austen, resigns office, champagne, french offensive at, chemin des dames, germans capture, children of consolation, children's peace, china, food prices in, christmas musings, punch's, truce and fraternisation, church bells requisitioned, churchill, mr. winston appointed minister of munitions, dardanelles expedition, paints landscapes, rejoins his regiment, resigns duchy of lancaster, retires to duchy of lancaster, civilian, the, and the war office, civil service estimates, clemenceau, m. attempted assassination of, tribute to, clyde, labour troubles on the, coal commission appointed, coalition government formed, leaders' pledges, coalitionists triumph at general election, coat that didn't come off, the, cologne, archbishop of, and the kaiser, combles taken by allies, coming army, the, commission to inquire into dardanelles expedition, to inquire into mesopotamian expedition, "complete accord," compulsory rationing a fact, comrades in victory, conscientious objectors in non-combatant corps, constables, special, guard king's highway, constantine, king of greece abdicates, contemplates abdication, forms cabinet of professors, mr. asquith's appeal to, to receive £20,000 a year, treated tenderly, contemptibles, the old, corn production bill, coronel avenged, correspondents, mr. punch's, cradock, admiral, crank, whip's definition of a, craonne taken by french, "credibility index," crown prince, german american interviews, common brigand, a, has misgivings, in exile, cuba declares war on austria, cuffley, zeppelin brought down at, _daily mail_, candour of, _daily news_ and _punch_, _daily telegraph_, lord lansdowne's letter to, damascus captured by allies, dance of death, the, danube, serbians reach the, dardanelles commission, dawn of doubt, the, daylight saving, bill passed, death lord, the, debeney, general, praises americans, defence of the realm act, (de)merit, the reward of, demobilisation commences, derby, lord director of recruiting, minister of war, dernburg, dr., his picture of german innocents, _deutschland_, german submarine, exploits of, devonport, lord appointed food controller, approves new dietary for prisoners, retires as food controller, diary- 1914, august, september, october, november, december, 1915, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december, 1916, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december, 1917, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december, 1918, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, die nacht am rhein, dogger bank, german reverse off, domestic servant's philosophy, dominions, loyalty of, douai regained by allies, drake's way, drocourt-quéant switchline breached by allies, dud, the, duke, mr., retires from irish chief secretaryship, dumba, dr., promotes strikes in u.s.a., dunraven, lord, excuses irishmen, dynastic amenities, easter offering, the, economy, appeals for, editor of the _vorwärts_ arrested, education bill second reading of, lord haldane lectures on, ekaterinburg, ex-tsar and family murdered at, _emden_ sunk by the _sydney_, emmas, the two, empire, indispensable in winning war, end of a perfect "tag," england tribute to, by _new york life_, war could not have been won without, enver pasha goes to medina, epilogue, erzerum falls to russians, euphemists, excursionist, the, exile, the irish, "f.e." appointed lord chancellor, _falaba_, the, sunk by german submarine, falkland islands, battle of, farmer and farm labourer, far-reaching effect of the russian push, the, ferdinand, king of bulgaria abdicates, declares war on serbia, goes to vienna, inscrutability of, fidgety wilhelm, the story of, fifth british army, germans break through, final, the, fisher, lord, will not give explanations, fisher, mr., eulogised, flag days, flanders coast evacuated by germans, fleet, german, surrenders, flight that failed, flying of the atlantic, foch, general appointed generalissimo of allied forces, arranges armistice, made a g.c.b., receives german envoys, tribute to, food at the front, control, public for, production, urgency for increased, question discussed in parliament, question in germany, restriction, stocks increasing, ford, mr. henry offers his works to american authorities, visits europe, for neutrals--for natives, fort douaumont falls, fourth of july celebrated in france, france, destruction and desolation of, france's day, franchet d'esperey, general, francis joseph, emperor, dies, french, general appointed viceroy of ireland, his "contemptible little army," relinquishes his command, responsible for home defence against enemy aircraft, fryatt, captain, murder of, funchal, u-boats busy at, gaiety at military hospitals, gallipoli, allies land in, casualties in, complete evacuation of, discomforts of, garibaldi still an animating force in italy, gaul to the new caesar, gaza taken by british, geddes, sir eric defends admiralty, first lord, general election, general janvier, geography taught by war, george v. of england abolishes german titles held by family, his house to be known as windsor, sets a fine example, visits front, george, mr. lloyd appointed minister of munitions, defines british policy, deputed to confer with irish leaders, expounds plan for irish convention, prime minister, secretary for war, suffers in prestige, triumph of, warns peacemongers, gerard, mr., reminiscences of, german "frightfulness," general staff and set-backs, substitutes, germany campaign of falsehood in, civil war in, fleet surrenders, "german truth society" founded, great mistake of, hints to italy, ill-treats prisoners, indulges in reprisals, jealous of _lusitania_ records, laments over allied blockade, lunatics called up for service, mutiny at kiel, new peace offensive, old, contrasted, peace overtures, signs armistice, signs peace, sinks two hospital ships, sprays british soldiers with flaming petrol, squirts boiling pitch over russians, torpedoes neutral merchant ships, warns _punch_, ghosts at versailles, god (and the women) our shield, _goeben_, disaster to the, _good hope_, h.m.s., sunk, gothas, activities of, gouraud, general, governesses, english, revelations of, grandcourt, taken by british, grand fleet, ceaseless vigil of, title, passes. grapes of verdun, the, great incentive, a, greece dominated by pro-german court, hampers allies, territory violated by bulgarian troops, ultimatum presented to, greenwich time applied to ireland, grey, sir edward dissatisfied with neutrals, statements _re_ france and belgium, grimsby fishermen's fight, guy fawkes day, no fireworks on, gwynn, capt., undertakes to raise irish brigade, haig, sir douglas commander-in-chief of british armies in france, issues a dispatch, issues historic order, haldane, lord debt to, for territorials, lectures on education, retires from chancellorship, hamlet, u.s.a., _hampshire_, the, mined, handyman, a, hardinge report, lords discuss the, harvest, a successful, haunted ship, havre, belgian government removed to, hay, ian, book by, healy, mr. tim, champions government, held! heligoland bight, naval engagement in, hertling, erzberger's campaign against chancellor, hidden hand, the, hindenburg, marshal von assumes command of austrian troops, presented with house, retreats on western front hindenburgitis hindenburg line breached his latest home front, the derby, lord, most prominent man on drink, a dangerous enemy education of those on flower-beds sacrificed khaki weddings london police strike pessimists, cure for railway travelling, discomforts of trials of mistresses on hooge, british success at horne, general hotels commandeered house of commons attends church characteristics of how to brighten the period of reaction hunding line hun to hun hyde park used for training troops india, "lonely soldiers" in indian troops infectious hornpipe, the influenza, spanish in honour of the british navy in reserve inseparable, the invasion by sea, english press fears ireland debate on, in parliament dominates proceedings in parliament exempted from military service bill greenwich time applied to insurrection in west of insurrectionist leaders executed irreconcilables triumph at general election maxwell, sir john, appointed to supreme command nationalists attack sir john maxwell placed under martial law irish convention exile, the harvest labourers italy bainsizza plateau saved declares war on austria push on the isonzo jaffa, british in james, mr. henry adopts british nationality tribute to england by jazz, outbreak of jellicoe, lord, retires from post of first sea lord jericho captured by allies jerusalem captured by british joffre, general, announces rolling back of enemy john, mr. augustus, paints mr. lloyd george's portrait jones, mr. kennedy declares beer a food resignation of journalists visit the fleet jutland, battle of kaiser, german abdicates absent from francis joseph's funeral attila's understudy blasphemer and hypocrite denies responsibility for war disappointed with allah encourages war on non-combatants first war birthday flees to holland foiled before nancy has another grandson murderer of innocents orders blockade of england poses as friend of the people pro-socialist _punch's_ views on refrains from active participation in military operations reprimands prince frederick leopold of prussia sorry for france speech to eton college volunteers talks of his conscience kaiser, ex-, saws trees karl, emperor of austria's suggestion _re_ alsace-lorraine karlsruhe bombarded by allied airmen kerensky, appointed head of russian provisional government overthrown keyes, admiral, locks up german submarines kiel, mutiny at kipling, mr. kitchener, lord asks for more men death of eulogies of gives frugal information to lords meets critics in parliament obtains 1,000,000 men starts on the _hampshire_ for russia war minister kluck, general von, failure of _kölnische zeitung_ and _punch_ kühlmann, von, fall of kultur, the reward of kut captured by british labour demands of real voice of representation of troubles lansdowne, lord, writes to _daily telegraph_ laon, recaptured by allies last throw, the law, mr. bonar announces air-raid reprisals appointed leader of the house declares policy _re_ indemnities introduces budget made chancellor of the exchequer travels to france by aeroplane will not discuss military situation, league of nations takes shape _leinster_, the, sunk by germans lenin appearance of attempted assassination of installed as dictator liberators, the lichnowsky's disclosures liége, fall of lies, german campaign of lighting orders, enforcement of lille regained by allies lissauer, herr, decorated by kaiser london, daylight air-raids extend to lonely soldiers long, mr. walter, his remedy for carping criticism loos, fighting at lord mayor's banquet simplified lost chief, the lost land, a louvain, sack of lovelace, the modern ludendorff resigns _lusitania_, the american victims sinking of luxuries, imports of, curtailed lynch, colonel, undertakes to raise irish brigade maccabean boy scouts macneill, mr. swift endeavours to purge peerage of enemy dukes resents setting up of war cabinet made in germany mangin, general manifesto of german artists and professors marine, mercantile, tribute paid to by parliament marne german push to germans again hurled back across mary, queen of england, tribute to massacres by bolshevists maude, general captures kut death of maunoury, general maurice affair, the max, burgomaster of brussels max, prince german chancellor issues pacific manifesto mckenna, mr. chancellor of exchequer introduces bill for raising war loan meatless days men of forty-one wanted merchant ships dutch, sunk by german submarine neutral, torpedoed by german submarines mesopotamia, tide turning in messines ridge captured michaelis, dr. appointed german chancellor dismissed military service bill becomes law ireland exempted from milner, lord on misleading war news minesweepers honour due to ministry of munitions created missing mistresses trials of monastir fall of recaptured by serbians and french _monmouth_, h.m.s. sunk mons british reach retreat from monte sabotino captured by italians moon our enemy morning hate prussian household having its mort homme carnage at mottoes and proverbs mule humour müller, captain a chivalrous antagonist munitions smart people work at museum, british war spirit at museums, london closed mutiny of sailors at kiel muzzling order namur fall of narrows, the, failure to get through national industrial conference national party, the new national registration bill second reading of national thrift campaign navy its efficient work need of men, the neuve chapelle captured by british new armies composition of education of training of new conductor, the new guinea taken by allies new language, the newmarket racing stopped at newspaper readers "credibility index" for nicholas, emperor of russia abdicates generalissimo of his armies nineteen-nineteen model, the northcliffe, lord and his correspondence visits u.s.a. north sea u-boats active in novo-georgievsk taken by enemy noyon recaptured by allies officer, wounded experiences of officers, young splendid record of oil discovered in derbyshire old man of the sea old-timer, the omen of 1908 on earth--peace one up! on the black list opera by english composer produced optimist, the order of british empire orlando, italian statesman ostend naval exploit at regained by allies o.t.c. and the universities our man our persevering officials "ourselves alone" motto of sinn fein overweighted oxford cadet battalions at pacifists dilemma of impressed by germany's lamentations paris exodus to peace conference at shelled by long-distance gun parliament assembles dissolution of extension of life of houses of, stars and stripes and union jack fly over passchendaele ridge stormed by british peace signed the children's penny postage gone perfect innocence péronne british enter fall of recovered by allies persuading of tino, the pétain hero of verdun piave italians cross the picture galleries, london, closed pill-boxes, german, made of british cement, pitiful pose, a, place in the moon, a, place of arms, a, plain duty, a, plumer, general stands firm on the piave, victorious in flanders, poison gas, germans use, police, london, strike, political truce, politician who addressed the troops, the, _pommern_, the, sunk by british, portugal enters war, posters and publicity, and war loans, newspaper, absence of, press bureau, campaign against mr. asquith, german, humours of, prince of wales relief fund, takes his seat, prinkipo, proposed conference at, prisoner, british, sentenced for calling germans "huns," prisoners german, arrive in ireland, german offer _re_, propaganda, german, in united states, prophecy an old arab, _punch's, re_ kaiser, proportional representation rejected, _punch's_ cartoons and the _kölnische zeitung,_ correspondents, _queen elizabeth_, h.m.s., attacks in dardanelles, queries, futile, to wounded soldiers, queues disappear, for various commodities, "queue war," rabbit, the elusive, raids by sea, rasputin, sinister figure of. rationing, compulsory, rawlinson, general, realisation, reconstruction, recruit who took to it kindly, recruiting, posters to aid, redmond, major william falls in flanders, makes thrilling speech, tribute to, in commons, redmond, mr. john, death of, reichstag not blind to facts, rejuvenating effect of zeppelins, reprisals on german cities advocated, repudiation, the, return of the mock turtle-dove, reunited, reventlow, count, and the kaiser, reward of kultur, the, rheims cathedral bombarded, rhine, british army's watch on the, rhondda, lord appointed food controller, death of, richter, dr. hans, clamours for british extinction, riga, gulf of, german defeat in, riga occupied by germans, rivers, french, find their voices, roberts, mr., minister of labour, roberts, lord death of, germans pay tribute to, his reticence, robertson, sir william accepts eastern command at home, appointed chief of staff, displaced, robinson, lieutenant, brings down zeppelin, roosevelt, mr., invents new invective, roumania joins allies, royal family, british, fine example of, royal flying corps, great losses of, running amok, rupprecht, crown prince, entertains journalists, russia army retreats, bolshevist _coup d'état._ bolshevist régime stained with massacres, collapses, dark hour of, débacle in, end of tsardom ex-tsar and family shot, russia (_contd_.) provisional government dissolved recovering herself republic proclaimed russian army said to have passed through england saint-quentin recaptured by allies st. james's park, lake in, drained st. mihiel salient flattened out by americans salonika allies land at front triumphant advance by allies on saluting abolished in russian army sands run out, the san gabriele, italian success at santa klaus, _punch_ welcomes scapa flow, german fleet surrenders at germans scuttle their warships at scarborough bombarded scott, admiral percy expert adviser to lord french scrapper scrapped, the secret diplomacy session sedan, american army reaches serbia austrians and germans invade liberation of overrun servant domestic, problem officer's description of sevastopol, germans reach shaw, mr. bernard colossal arch-super-egotist visits front shirkers' war news shortt, mr., appointed chief secretary for ireland siegfried line sinn fein creed of excesses plays at war smart people, callousness of smith-dorrien, general, at le cateau smuts, general, commands in east africa soissons, germans capture soldier and civilian soldiers, british cannot imitate hun ordeal on western front tribute to solid, xiv some bird somme battle of the, commences guns heard in england results of battle of the "song of plenty" south-west africa german, gives in to allies germans poison wells in spanish influenza speaker of house of commons re-elected spee, admiral von, goes down with his squadron spies, german _spurlos versenkt_ spy-hunting in east anglia spy play, emergence of storm driven strain on the affections strasbourg strauss, herr, does not sign german artists' manifesto study of prussian household having its morning hate sturdee, admiral submarine frightfulness, the new, commences submarines, british, in the baltic submarines, german cornered grimsby's fight against locked up torpedo british battleships suffragists' cause triumphs suits, standard sumner, lord, on houses of parliament sunlight-loser, the suvla bay, british heroism at sweden assists german secret service sweepers of the sea swooping from the west tanks, coming of the tannenberg, russian repulse at tares, the sower of t.b.d. territorials doing great work in india efficiency and keenness of mobilised teutons, panegyric of, in _die welt_ thiepval taken by allies threatened peace offensive, thrift campaign, tirpitz, grand admiral, dismissed, tisza, count, admits defeat, to all at home, tommy, british needs no vocabulary, philosophy of, to the glory of france, townshend, general besieged in kut, heroism of his force, tramcar humour, tramps disappear from england, transitional period, trawlers, honour due to, trenchard, general, retires from air staff, trenches, sportsmanship of, trench warfare commences, trials of a camouflage officer, trotsky released from internment, tsing-tau, japanese take, tuber's repartee, the, turkey appeals to berlin for funds, defeated in caucasus, defeated on suez canal, enters war, granted armistice, two germanies, the, "two heads with but a single thought," u-boat interned at cadiz, u-boats appear off u.s.a., sir e. geddes's diagram _re_, ulstermen and conscription, unauthorised flirtation, an, unconquerable, unemployment dole, united states accused of stealing cypher key, german propaganda in, issues warning note on neutral trading, no peace with hohenzollerns, unsinkable tirp., the, v.a.d., tributes to, venizelos, m., resumes power, verdun germans closing in on, struggle around, begins, triumph of french at, versailles conference, council, foresight of, peace signed at, very much up, victory! vienna, peace kite-flying at, villager, english, and prospects of invasion, vimy ridge, canadians capture, volunteers, training of, von pot and von kettle, wales, south miners' strike, provides recruits, wanted--a st. patrick, war anniversaries of, cabinet, mr. henderson resigns from, changes wrought by, conference of the empire called, daily cost of, loans, news, the shirkers', pictures, propaganda, need for a, at home, teaching geography, vocabulary, ward, colonel, defends compulsory service bill, warsaw, russians lose, waterloo campaign and great war, wayside calvary, the, weddings, khaki, well done, the new army, wemyss, sir rosslyn, on r.n. and mercantile marine, whigs and tories, strife between, revived, whitby bombarded, wilhelm i.'s message to wife, wilhelmshaven indefinitely closed, william o' the wisp, wilson, general, appointed chief of imperial staff, wilson, president and the _lusitania_, declines to be rushed, forbearance of, his fourteen points, last note to germany, launches a new phrase, wittenberg, ill-treatment of prisoners at, wolff, mendacity of, woman power women belgian, used as a screen driving vans gardeners licensed as taxi-drivers obtain the vote opportunities taken by _punch_ delighted at their varied work undertake men's work, war and poetry, word of ill-omen, a, wotan line, breached, wounded, return of, to england, ypres germans repulsed at, germans stopped at, second battle of, third battle of, commences, zeebrugge, naval exploit at, zeppelin, count, swears to destroy london, zeppelins french bag several, one brought down at cuffley, plague of, stayed, raid encourages emulation, george cruikshank's omnibus. [illustration: preface. "de omnibus rebus et quirusdan aliis."] published by tilt & bogue, 86, fleet street george cruikshank's omnibus. illustrated with one hundred engravings on steel and wood. "de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis." edited by laman blanchard, esq. london: tilt and bogue, fleet street. mdcccxlii. london: bradbury and evans, printers, whitefriars. contents. page "our preface" described. my portrait 1 my last pair of hessian boots 8 epigram 13 love seeking a lodging 14 frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago, 15, 39, 76, 112, 144, 177, 210, 246, 282. monument to napoleon 26 photographic phenomena; or, the new school of portrait painting 29 commentary on the new police act--punch _v._ law 33 original poetry, by the late sir fretful plagiary, knt. "ode to the human heart," "on life et cetera," &c. 35 love has legs 52 bernard cavanagh, the irish cameleon 53 the ass on the ladder 54 omnibus chat 59 scene near hogsnorton 61 chancery lane enigma ib. sonnets to macready 63 large order to a hom[oe]opathic apothecary, &c. 64 "my vote and interest." a communication from mr. simpleton schemer, of doltford lodge, crooksley 65 the census 72 love's masquerading 75 the livery--out of london 89 omnibus chat 92 legend of van diemen's land 92 the girl and the philosopher 94 the grave of the suicide (who thought better of it). ib. a rigid sense of duty 95 frights 97 a peep into a leg-of-beef shop 100 a few notes on unpaid letters 102 first discovery of van demon's land 104 the muffin man 120 a tiger hunt in england 121 omnibus chat 124 ingenious rogueries 124 the sister sciences of botany and horticulture 126 photogenic pictures, no. ii. 127 a negro boy in the west indies ib. legend of the kilkenny cats 128 mademoiselle rachel 129 frights!--no. ii. 130 a short cruise at margate 132 epigrams 134 passionate people 135 our new cooks 141 a song of contradictions 143 a warm reception 151 tea-table tattle 152 omnibus chat 155 the fashions ib. playbills and playgoing ib. a romance of the orchestra 156 one of the curiosities of literature 157 an incident of travel 158 here's a bit of fat for you 159 heiress presumptive ib. letter from mrs. toddles 160 frights!--no. iii. haunted houses, &c. 161 little spitz; by michael angelo titmarsh 167 last night of vauxhall; by laman blanchard 172 a tale of the times of old 176 an anacreontic fable ib. how to raise the wind; by captain marryatt, r.n. 182 peep at bartholomew fair; by alpha 188 omnibus chat 191 association of ideas ib. boys at school 194 the laceman's lament ib. the height of impudence 195 mrs. t. again 196 the artificial floor for skating 197 duns demonstrated; by edward howard, author of "rattlin the reefer" 199 the second sleeper awakened. translated by ali 202 just going out; by laman blanchard 204 a theatrical curiosity 216 sliding scales 217 sketches here, there, and everywhere; by a. bird. a stage-coach race 218 another curiosity of literature 222 a horrible passage in my early life 223 two of a trade 225 omnibus chat 226 the two naval heroes ib. tar and feathers 227 an acatalectic monody 228 third meeting of the bright-ish association for the advancement of everything ib. rum corks in stout bottles 229 a highway adventure 230 bearded like the pard ib. some account of the life and times of mrs. sarah toddles; by sam sly 231 the fire at the tower of london 233 miss adelaide kemble 238 jack gay, abroad and at home; by laman blanchard 240 the king of brentford's testament; by michael angelo titmarsh 244 the fire king flue 254 a passage in the life of mr. john leakey 255 omnibus chat 260 the clerk, a parody ib. the british association 261 playing on the piano 262 november weather 263 mrs. toddles ib. jack-o'lantern 265 christmas. by sam sly 266 a snap-dragon. by charles hookey walker, esq. 267 sonnet to "some one" ib. the hom[oe]opathist's serenade. by dr. bulgardo ib. what do you do that for? 268 lines by a y--g l--y of f--sh--on 271 the frolics of time. a striking adventure. by laman blanchard, esq. 272 a peep (poetic) at the age. by a. bird 276 a still-life sketch 277 a tale of an inn 278 "such a duck!" 281 the postilion 289 "the horse by the head" 292 a floating recollection 293 the pauper's chaunt 294 sketches here, there, and everywhere 295 mrs. toddles 299 sonnet to mrs. toddles 300 postscript 304 list of etchings on steel. "de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis." page preface _to face title_ portrait of george cruikshank 1 frank heartwell, or fifty years ago. 15 commentary upon the new police act, no. i. 33 commentary upon the new police act, no ii. 34 frank heartwell's first interview with brady 47 "rush to poll"--an election squib 65 frank heartwell and sambo, in the hold of the tender 85 frights, no. i.--"flying beadles" 97 frank heartwell, ben, and sambo, amusing the natives 116 portrait of rachel in the character of marie stuart 129 frights, no. ii.--"thieves."--"the strange cat" 130 richard brothers, the prophet, at mrs. heartwell's 147 frights, no. iii.--"ghosts" 161 frank heartwell discovering treasure 181 a skating party 197 frank heartwell preparing to swim to the wreck 214 breaking into "the jewel room" at the tower 233 portrait of miss adelaide kemble 238 frank heartwell seizing brady 252 jack o'lantern 265 frank heartwell 287 list of wood-cuts. page 1. the peep-show _preface_ 2. bust of shakspeare with pipe 2 3. g. c. in a drawing-room 4 4. g. c. and a cabman 5 5. a pair of bellows 6 6. my last pair of hessians 8 7. a pair of shoes 13 8. love seeking a lodging 14 9. monument to napoleon 26 10. photographic painting 29 11. the sun painting all the world and his wife 32 12. love has legs 52 13. the ass climbing the ladder 54 14. the ass on the ladder 54 15. the boy on the ladder 54 16. ditto 56 17. a large order 64 18. love masquerading 75 19. foot-boy and bread 90 20. footman and pups 91 21. coachman and dumplings 92 22. a rigid sense of duty 95 23. mrs. toddles 96 24. leg-of-beef shop 100 25. the flying dutchman 106 26. kangaroo dance 109 27. kangaroo and fiddler 111 28. the muffin-man 120 29. the strange cat 131 30. the round hat and the cocked hat 132 31. sailor chasing napoleon 134 32. a passionate man 138 33. t tree 152 34. emperor of china cutting off his own nose 153 35. chinese cavalry 153 36. tea-pot 154 37. the fashions 155 38. the boy's revenge 159 39. the living pincushion 159 40. mrs. toddles 160 41. materials for making a ghost 163 42. the ghost 163 43. the bell-pull and the pigtail 166 44. little spitz 167 45. last night of vauxhall--the balloon 172 46. simpson à la shakspeare 175 47. cupid with an umbrella 176 48. love breaking hearts 176 49. height of impudence 195 50. mrs. toddles at margate 196 51. ditto 196 52. the dun 200 53. the second sleeper 202 54. sliding scale 217 55. mile-stones--on the rail-road 222 56. butcher's boy 225 57. tar and feathers 227 58. corks 229 59. turnpikeman and the elephant 230 60. three figures of fashion 230 61. plan of the tower of london 233 62. bowyer tower 235 63. camperdown anchor 235 64. lady jane's room 236 65. the fire-king flue 236 66. grenadiers playing on the piano 262 67. fireman playing on a piano 263 68. colonel walker (or talker) 264 69. mrs. toddles in a fit 264 70. such a duck 281 71. the horse by the head 292 72. sheer tyranny 294 73. sheer kindness 294 74. pope's guard 296 75. building an angel 297 76. mrs. toddles in the dickey 299 77. mrs. t. and the colonel dancing 299 78. as broad as it's long 300 [illustration] our preface. we have been entreated by a great many juvenile friends to "tell 'em all about our engraved preface in no. i.;" and entreaties from tender juveniles we never could resist. so, for their sakes, we enter into a little explanation concerning the great matters crowded into "our preface." all children of a larger growth are, therefore, warned to skip this page if they please--it is not for them, who are, of course, familiar with the ways of the world--but only for the little dears who require a guide to the great globe they are just beginning to inhabit. showman.--"now then, my little masters and missis, run home to your mammas, and cry till they give you all a shilling apiece, and then bring it to me, and i'll show you all the pretty pictures." so now, my little masters and misses, have you each got your no. 1 ready? always take care of that. now then, please to look at the top of the circular picture which represents the world, and there you behold her majesty queen victoria on her throne, holding a court, with prince albert, in his field-marshal's uniform, by her side, and surrounded by ladies, nobles, and officers of state. a little to the right are the heads of the universities, about to present an address. above the throne you behold the noble dome of st. paul's, on each side of which may be seen the tall masts of the british navy. cast your eyes, my pretty dears, below the throne, and there you behold mr. and mrs. john bull, and three little bulls, with their little bull-dog; one little master is riding his papa's walking-stick, while his elder brother is flying his kite--a pastime to which a great many bulls are much attached. miss bull is content to be a little lady with a leetle parasol, like her mamma. to the right of the kite you behold an armed man on horseback, one of those curious figures which, composed of goldbeater's skin, used to be sent up some years ago to astonish the natives; only they frightened 'em into fits, and are not now sent up, in consequence of being put down. and now you see "the world goes round." turn your eyes a little to the right to the baloon and parachute, and then look down under the smoke of a steamer, and you behold a little sweep flourishing his brush on the chimney-top, and wishing perhaps that he was down below there with jack-in-the-green. now then, a little more to the right--where you see a merry dancing-group of our light-heeled and light-hearted neighbours, the leader of the party playing the fiddle and dancing on stilts, while one of his countrymen is flying his favourite national kite--viz., the soldier. in the same vicinity, are groups of german gentlemen, some waltzing, and some smoking meerschaums; near these are foot-soldiers and lancers supporting the kite-flyer. now, near the horse, my little dears, you will see the mule, together with the spanish muleteers, who, if not too tired, would like to take part in that fandango performed to the music of the light guitar. look a little to the left, and you behold a quadrille-party, where a gentleman in black is pastorale-ing all the chalk off the floor; and now turn your eyes just above these, and you behold a joyful party of convivialists, with bottles in the ice-pail and bumpers raised, most likely to the health of our gracious queen, or in honour of the great captain of the age. and now, my little dears, turn your eyes in a straight line to the right, and you will perceive st. peter's at rome, beneath which are two young cardinals playing at leap-frog, not at all frightened at the grand eruption of mount vesuvius which is going on in the distance. from this you must take a leap on to the camel's back, from which you will obtain a view of the party sitting just below, which consists of the grand sultan smoking desperately against ali pacha. now, look a little lower down, and you will see a famous crocodile-catcher of the nile, said to bear a striking resemblance to commodore napier; and now, look upwards again to the farthest verge, and you behold the great pyramid, and a wild horseman chasing an ostrich not so wild as himself. now, the world goes round a little more, and you see some vast mountains, together with the temples of hindostan; and upon the palm-tree you will find the monkeys pulling one another's tails, being very uneducated and having nothing else to do: here, also, you will discern the indian jugglers, one throwing the balls, and another swallowing the sword, a very common thing in these parts. and now, my little dears, you can plainly see several very independent gentlemen and loyal subjects standing on their heads in presence of the emperor of ever so many worlds, and the brother of the sun and moon; and behind these, hiding the wall of china, you will see a quantity of steam, (for they are in hot water there,) that issues from the tea-kettles. leaving his celestial majesty smoking his opium, and passing the junks, temples, and pagodas, you see a chinese joss upon his pedestal; and now you can descend and join that pretty little tea-party, where you will recognise some of your old acquaintances on tea-cups; only, if you are afraid of the lion which you see a long way off, you can turn to the left, and follow the tiger that is following the elephant like mad: and now, my little dears, you can jump for safety into that palanquin carried by the sable gentry, or perhaps you would join the party of persians seated a little lower, only they have but one dish and no plates to eat out of. just above this dinner-party you behold some live venison, or a little antelope eating his grass for dinner while a boa-constrictor is creeping up with the intention of dining upon him; so you had better make your way to that giraffe, who is feeding upon the tops of trees, which habit is supposed to have occasioned the peculiar shape of that remarkable quadruped; and now you fall again in the way of that ramping lion, from whose jaws a black is retreating only to encounter a black brother more savage than the wild beast. and now, if your eye follows that gang of slaves, chained neck to neck, who are being driven off to another part of the world, you will see what treatment they are doomed to experience there, in the flogging which is being administered to one of their colour--that is to say, black as the vapour issuing from that mountain in the distance; it is chimborao, or cotapaxi, i can't say exactly which, but it shall be whichever you please, my pretty little dears. in the smoke of it an eagle is carrying off a lamb--do you see?--stop, let me wipe the glasses!--ah, yes, and now you can clearly behold a gentleman of the united states smoking his cigar in his rocking-chair. a little behind is another gentleman driving his sleigh, and in front you won't fail to see an astonishing personage, who has just caught a cayman, or american crocodile, which he is balancing on his walking-stick, on purpose to amuse little boys and girls like you. at his side is the celebrated runaway nigger represented by mr. mathews, who says, "me no likee confounded workee; me likee to sit in a sun, and play fiddle all day." over his head is a steam-vessel, and at his feet an indian canoe; towards it a volume of smoke is ascending from a fire, round which some savages are dancing with feeling too horrible to think of. so instead of stopping to dinner here, my little masters and misses, you would much rather, i dare say, take pot-luck with that group of gipsies above, who are going to regale upon a pair of boiled fowls, which i hope they came honestly by. talking of honesty, we start upwards to the race-course; and now goes the world round again, until you get sight of a gentleman with a stick in his hand, who has evidently a great stake in the race, and who is so rejoiced at having won, that he is unconscious of what he is all the while losing in the abstraction of his pocket-book. and now we are in the midst of the fair, where we see the best booth, and merry doings in the shape of a boxing-match; but as "music has charms," turn your eyes and your ears too some little distance downwards in the direction of the organ player and the tambourine, where you will find some jovial drinkers, not far from the harp and violin of the quadrille-party. i hope their music won't be drowned by the noise of that indian, to the left, beating the tom-tom, while the nautch-girls are dancing as if they couldn't help it, all to amuse the mighty emperor of all the smokers and prince of tobacco, who is seated, hookah in hand, in the centre of the globe--where we must leave him to his enjoyment, tracing our way back to the jovial drinking-party, where you will see jack capering ashore, and getting on perhaps a little too fast, while the donkey-boy above him can't get on at all, and the fox-hunter, still higher up, seems to be in danger of getting off--especially if his horse should happen to be startled by his brother-sportsman's gun behind him. and now, my little dears, the gun has brought us round again to the royal guards, where the band is playing, in glorious style, god save the queen! and thus ends, where it began, my history of the world! [illustration: george cruikshank] george cruikshank's omnibus. "my portrait." i respectfully beg leave to assure all to whom "my portrait" shall come, that i am not now moved to its publication, for the first time, by any one of the ten thousand considerations that ordinarily influence modest men in presenting their "counterfeit presentments" to the public gaze. mine would possibly never have appeared at all, but for the opportunity thus afforded me of clearing up any mistakes that may have been originated by a pen-and-ink sketch which recently appeared in a publication entitled "portraits of public characters." the writer of that sketch was evidently animated by a spirit of kindness, and to kindness i am always sensitively alive; but he has been misinformed--he has represented me "as i am not," instead of "as i am;" and although it is by no means necessary that i should offer "some account of myself" in print, it is desirable that i should, without fatiguing anybody, correct some half-dozen of the errors into which my biographer has fallen. a few words of extract, and a few more of comment, and my object, as the moralist declares when he seeks to lure back _one_ sinner to the paths of virtue, will be fully attained. the sketch, which professes to be "my portrait," opens thus:- (1.) "i believe geo. cruikshank dislikes the name of _artist_, as being too common-place." i have my dislikes; but it happens that they always extend to things, and never settle upon mere names. he must be a simpleton indeed who dislikes the name of artist when he is not ashamed of his art. it is possible that i may once in my life, when "very young," have said that i would rather carry a portmanteau than a portfolio through the streets; and this, perhaps from a recollection of once bearing a copper-plate, not sufficiently concealed from the eyes of an observant public, under my arm, and provoking a salutation from a little ragged urchin, shouting at the top of his voice, hand to mouth--"_there goes a copper plate en-gra-_ver!" it is true, that as i walked on i experienced a sense of the uncomfortableness of that species of publicity, and felt that the eyes of europe were very inconveniently directed to me; but i did not, even in that moment of mortification, feel ashamed of my calling: i did not "dislike the name of artist." (2.) "when a very young man, it was doubtful whether the weakness of his eyes would not prove a barrier to his success as an artist." when a very young man, i was rather _short-sighted_, in more senses than one; but weak eyes i never had. the blessing of a strong and healthy vision has been mine from birth; and at any period of time since that event took place, i have been able, even with one eye, to see very clearly through a millstone, upon merely applying the single optic, right or left, to the centrical orifice perforated therein. but for the imputation of weakness in that particular, i never should have boasted of my capital eye; especially (as an aged punster suggests) when i am compelled to use the capital i so often in this article. (3.) "the gallery in which george first studied his art, was, if the statement of the author of 'three courses and a dessert' may be depended on, the tap-room of a low public-house, in the dark, dirty, narrow lanes which branch off from one of the great thoroughfares towards the thames. and where could he have found a more fitting place? where could he have met with more appropriate characters?--for the house was frequented, to the exclusion of everybody else, by irish coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, scavengers, and so forth!" [illustration] i shall mention, _en passant_, that there are _no_ irish coal-heavers: i may mention, too, that the statement of the author adverted to is not to be depended on; were he living, i should show why. and now to the scene of my so-called "first studies." there was, in the neighbourhood in which i resided, a low public-house; it has since degenerated into a gin-palace. it was frequented by coal-heavers only, and it stood in wilderness-lane, (i like to be particular,) between primrose-hill and dorset-street, salisbury-square, fleet-street. to this house of inelegant resort, (the sign was startling, the "lion in the wood,") which i regularly passed in my way to and from the temple, my attention was one night especially attracted, by the sounds of a fiddle, together with other indications of festivity; when, glancing towards the tap-room window, i could plainly discern a small bust of shakspeare placed over the chimney-piece, with a short pipe stuck in its mouth, thus-this was not clothing the palpable and the familiar with golden exhalations from the dawn, but it was reducing the glorious and immortal beauty of apollo himself to a level with the common-place and the vulgar. yet there was something not to be quarrelled with in the association of ideas to which that object led. it struck me to be the perfection of the human picturesque. it was a palpable meeting of the sublime and the ridiculous; the world of intellect and poetry seemed thrown open to the meanest capacity; extremes had met; the highest and the lowest had united in harmonious fellowship. i thought of what the great poet had himself been, of the parts that he had played, and the wonders he had wrought, within a stone's-throw of that very spot; and feeling that even he might have well wished to be there, the pleased spectator of that lower world, it was impossible not to recognise the fitness of the pipe. it was the only pipe that would have become the mouth of a poet in that extraordinary scene; and without it, he himself would have wanted majesty and the right to be present. i fancied that sir walter raleigh might have filled it for him. and _what_ a scene was that to preside over and to contemplate[1]! what a picture of life was there! it was as though death were dead! it was _all_ life. in simpler words, i saw, on approaching the window and peeping between the short red curtains, a swarm of jolly coal-heavers! coal-heavers all--save a few of the fairer and softer sex--the wives of some of them--all enjoying the hour with an intensity not to be disputed, and in a manner singularly characteristic of the tastes and propensities of aristocratic and fashionable society;--that is to say, they were "dancing and taking refreshments." they only did what "their betters" were doing elsewhere. the living shakspeare, had he been, indeed, in the presence, would but have seen a common humanity working out its objects, and have felt that the _omega_, though the last in the alphabet, has an astonishing sympathy with the _alpha_ that stands first. this incident, may i be permitted to say, led me to study the characters of that particular class of society, and laid the foundation of scenes afterwards published. the locality and the characters were different, the spirit was the same. was i, therefore, what the statement i have quoted would lead anybody to infer i was, the companion of dustmen, hodmen, coal-heavers, and scavengers? i leave out the "and so forth" as superfluous. it would be just as fair to assume that morland was the companion of pigs, that liston was the associate of louts and footmen, or that fielding lived in fraternal intimacy with jonathan wild. (4.) "with mr. hone" (afterwards designated "the most noted infidel of his day") "he had long been on terms not only of intimacy, but of warm friendship." a very select class of associates to be assigned to an inoffensive artist by a friendly biographer; coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, and scavengers for my companions, and the most noted infidel of his day for my intimate friend! what mr. hone's religious creed may have been at that time, i am far from being able to decide; i was too young to know more than that he seemed deeply read in theological questions, and, although unsettled in his opinions, always professed to be a christian. i knew also that his conduct was regulated by the strictest morality. he had been brought up to detest the church of rome, and to look upon the "church of england" service as little better than popish ceremonies; and with this feeling, he parodied some portions of the church service for purposes of political satire. but with these publications _i had nothing whatever to do_; and the instant i heard of their appearance, i entreated him to withdraw them. that i was his friend, is true; and it is true, also, that among his friends were many persons, not more admired for their literary genius, than esteemed for their zeal in behalf of religion and morals. (5.) "not only is george a decided liberal, but his liberalism has with him all the authority of a moral law." i have already said, that i never quarrel with names, but with things; yet as so many and such opposite interpretations of the terms quoted are afloat, and as some of them are not very intelligible, i wish explicitly to enter my protest against every reading of the word "liberal," as applicable to me, save that which i find attributed to it in an old and seemingly forgotten dictionary--"becoming a gentleman, generous, not mean." (6.) "even on any terms his genius could not, for some time past, be said to have been marketable, mr. bentley the bookseller having contrived to monopolise his professional labours for publications with which he is connected." this assertion was to a certain extent true, while i was illustrating oliver twist and jack sheppard, works to which i devoted my best exertions; but so far from effecting a monopoly of my labours, the publisher in question has not for a twelvemonth past had from me more than a single plate for his monthly miscellany; nor will he ever have more than that single plate per month; nor shall i ever illustrate any other work that he may publish. (7.) "he sometimes sits at his window to see the patrons of 'vite condick ouse' on their way to that well-known locality on sundays," &c. as my "extraordinary memory" is afterwards defined to be "something resembling a supernatural gift," it ought to enable me to recollect this habit of mine; yet i should have deemed myself as innocent of such a mode of spending the sabbath as sir andrew agnew himself, but for this extraordinary discovery. i am said to have "the most vivid remembrance of anything droll or ludicrous;" and yet i cannot remember sitting at the window "on a sunday" to survey the motley multitude strolling towards "vite condick ouse." i wish the invisible girl would sell me her secret. (8.) "he is a very singular, and, in some respects, eccentric man, considered, as what he himself would call, a 'social being.' the ludicrous and extraordinary fancies with which his mind is constantly teeming often impart a sort of wildness to his look, and peculiarity to his manner, which would suffice to _frighten from his presence_ those unacquainted with him. he is often so uncourteous and abrupt in his manner as to incur the charge of seeming rudeness." [illustration] though unaccustomed to spend the sabbath day in the manner here indicated, i have never yet been regarded as _saint_ george; neither, on the other hand, have i ever before been represented as the dragon! time was, when the dove was not more gentle; but now i "frighten people from my presence," and the isle from its propriety. the "saracen's head" is all suavity and seductiveness compared to mine. forty thousand knockers, with all their quantity of fright, would not make up my sum. i enter a drawing-room, it may be supposed, like one prepared to go the whole griffin. gorgons, and monsters, and chimeras dire, are concentrated by multitudes in my person. the aspect of miss jemima jones, who is enchanting the assembled party with "see the conquering hero comes," instantaneously assumes the expression of a person singing "monster, away." all london is wantley, and all wantley is terror-stricken wherever i go. i am as uncourteous as a gust of wind, as abrupt as a flash of lightning, and as rude as the billows of the sea. but of all this, be it known that i am "unconscious." this is acknowledged; "he is himself unconscious of this," which is true to the very letter, and very sweet it is to light at last upon an entire and perfect fact. but enjoying this happy unconsciousness--sharing it moreover with my friends, why wake me from the delusion! why excite my imagination, and unstring my nerves, with visions of nursery-maids flying before me in my suburban walks--of tender innocents in arms frightened into fits at my approach, of five-bottle men turning pale in my presence, of banquet-halls deserted on my entrance! [illustration] (9.) "g. c. is the only man i know moving in a respectable sphere of life who is a match for the under class of cabmen. he meets them on their own ground, and fights them with their own weapons. the moment they begin to swagger, to bluster, and abuse, he darts a _look_ at them, which, in two cases out of three, has the effect of reducing them to a tolerable state of civility; but if looks do not produce the desired results--if the eyes do not operate like oil thrown on the troubled waters, he talks to them in tones which, aided as his words and lungs are by the fire and fury darting from his eye, and the vehemence of his gesticulation, silence poor jehu effectually," &c. fact is told in fewer words than fiction. it so happens that i never had a dispute with a cabman in my life, possibly because i never provoked one. from me they are sure of a civil word; i generally open the door to let myself in, and always to let myself out; nay, unless they are very active indeed, i hand the money to them on the box, and shut the door to save them the trouble of descending. "the greatest is behind"--_i invariably pay them more than their fare_; and frequently, by the exercise of a generous forgetfulness, make them a present of an umbrella, pair of gloves, or a handkerchief. at times, i have gone so far as to leave them a few sketches, as an inspection of the albums of their wives and daughters (they _have_ their albums doubtless) would abundantly testify. (10.) "and yet he _can_ make himself exceedingly agreeable both in conversation and manners when he is in the humour so to do. i have met with persons who have been loaded with his civilities and attention. i _know_ instances in which he has spent considerable time in showing strangers everything curious in the house; he is a collector of curiosities." * * * * * [illustration] no single symp---i was about to say that no single symptom of a curiosity, however insignificant, is visible in my dwelling, when by audible tokens i was (or rather am) rendered sensible of the existence of a _pair of bellows_. well, in these it must be admitted that we _do_ possess a curiosity. we call them "bellows," because, on a close inspection, they appear to bear a much stronger resemblance to "bellows" than to any other species of domestic implement; but what in reality they are, the next annual meeting of the great scientific association must determine; or the public may decide for themselves when admitted hereafter to view the precious deposit in the british museum. in the mean time, i vainly essay to picture the unpicturable. eccentric, noseless, broken-winded, dilapidated, but immortal, these bellows have been condemned to be burnt a thousand times at least; but they are bellows of such an obstinate turn of mind that to destroy them is impossible. no matter how imperative the order--how immediate the hour of sacrifice, they are sure to escape. so much for old maxims; we may "sing old rose," but we cannot "burn the bellows." as often as a family accident happens--such as the arrival of a new servant, or the sudden necessity for rekindling an expiring fire, out come _the_ bellows, and forth go into the most secret and silent corners of the house such sounds of wheezing, squeaking, groaning, screaming, and sighing, as might be heard in a louder, but not more intolerable key, beneath the roaring fires of etna. then, rising above these mingled notes, issues the rapid ringing of two bells at once, succeeded by a stern injunction to the startled domestic "never on any account to use those bellows again," but, on the contrary, to burn, eject, and destroy them without reservation or remorse. one might as well issue orders to burn the east wind. a magic more powerful even than womanly tenderness preserves them; and six weeks afterwards forth rolls once more that world of wondrous noises. let no one imagine that i have really sketched the bellows, unless i had sketched their multitudinous _voice_. what i have felt when drawing punch is, that it was easy to represent his eyes, his nose, his mouth; but that the one essential was after all wanting--the _squeak_. the musician who undertook to convey by a single sound a sense of the peculiar smell of the shape of a drum, could alone picture to the _eye_ the howlings and whisperings of the preternatural bellows. now you hear a moaning as of one put to the torture, and may detect both the motion of the engine and the cracking of the joints; anon cometh a sound as of an old beldame half inebriated, coughing and chuckling. a sigh as from the depths of a woman's heart torn with love, or the "lover sighing like furnace," succeeds to this; and presently break out altogether--each separate note of the straining pack struggling to be foremost--the yelping of a cur, the bellowing of a schoolboy, the tones of a cracked flute played by a learner, the grinding of notched knives, the slow ringing of a muffled muffin-bell, the interrupted rush of water down a leaky pipe, the motion of a pendulum that does not know its own mind, the creaking of a prison-door, and the voice of one who crieth the last dying speech and confession; together with fifty thousand similar sounds, each as pleasant to the ear as "when am i to have the eighteen-pence" would be, to a man who never had a shilling since the day he was breeched. the origin of the bellows, i know not; but a suspicion has seized me that they might have been employed in the ark had there been a kitchen-fire there; and they may have assisted in raising a flame under the first tea-kettle put on to celebrate the laying of the first stone of the great wall of china. they are ages upon ages older than the bellows of simple simon's mother; and were they by him to be ripped open, they could not possibly be deteriorated in quality. the bellows which yet bear the inscription, "who rides on these bellows? the prince of good fellows, willy shakspeare," are a thing of yesterday beside these, which look as if they had been industriously exercised by some energetic greek in fanning the earliest flame of troy. to descend to later days, they must have invigorated the blaze at which tobias shandy lighted his undying pipe, and kindled a generous blaze under that hashed mutton which has rendered amelia immortal. but "the days are gone when beauty bright" followed quick upon the breath of the bellows: their effect at present is, to give the fire a bad cold; they blow an influenza into the grate. empires rise and fall, and a century hence the bellows may be as good as new. like puffing, they will know no end. (11.) and lastly--for the personality of this paragraph warns me to conclude--"in person g. c. is about the middle height and proportionably made. his complexion is something between _pale_ and _clear_; and his hair, which is tolerably ample, _partakes_ of a _lightish hue_. his face is of the angular form, and his forehead has a _prominently receding_ shape." as hamlet said to the ghost, i'll go no further! the indefinite complexion, and the hair "partaking" of an opposite hue to the real one, may be borne; but i stand, not upon my head, but on my forehead! to a man who has once passed the rubicon in having dared to publish his portrait, the exhibition of his mere profile can do no more injury than a petty larceny would after the perpetration of a highway robbery. but why be tempted to show, by an outline, that my forehead is innocent of a shape (the "prominently receding" one) that never yet was visible in nature or in art? let it pass, till it can be explained. "he delights in a handsome pair of whiskers." nero had one flower flung upon his tomb. "he has somewhat of a dandified appearance." flowers soon fade, and are cut down; and this is the "unkindest cut of all." i who, humbly co-operating with the press, have helped to give permanence to the name of dandy--i who have all my life been breaking butterflies upon wheels in warring against dandyism and dandies--am at last discovered to be "somewhat" of a dandy myself. "come antony, and young octavius, come! revenge yourselves--" as you may;--but, dandies all, i have not done with you yet. to resume. "he used to be exceedingly partial to hessian boots." i confess to the boots; but it was when they were worn even by men who walked on loggats. i had legs. besides, i was very young, and merely put on my boots to _follow_ the fashion. "his age, if his looks be not deceptive, is _somewhere between_ forty-three and forty-five." a very obscure and elaborated mode of insinuating that i am forty-_four_. "somewhere between!" the truth is--though nothing but extreme provocation should induce me to proclaim even truth when age is concerned,--that i am "somewhere between" twenty-seven and sixty-three, or i may say sixty-four;--but i hate exaggeration. _exit_, g. ck. footnote: [footnote 1: an exact representation of it will embellish a future "omnibus."] my last pair of hessian boots. "ah! sure a pair was never seen so justly formed--" [illustration] hoby would say, that as "all are not men who bear the human form," so all are not boots that bear the pedal shape. all boots, for example, are not hessians; nor are all hessians like my last pair. mathews used to tell a story of some french hoby, who, having with incredible genius constructed a pair of boots, which tom thumb when a little boy could no more have got on than cinderella's sister could the magic slipper, refused to part with them for any sum of money--he had "made them in a moment of enthusiasm." myriads of such moments were consumed in the construction of my last pair. the boots published by mr. warren in magazines and country newspapers, exhibiting the grinning portrait of a gentleman in the interesting act of shaving, or a cat bristling up and outwondering katerfelto, were vulgar in form, and dull of polish, beside mine hessians. pleasant it was, just as i was budding into life, to draw them on, and sit with one knee crossing the other, to contemplate my favourite leg. i used to wish myself a centipede, to wear fifty pairs of hessians at a time. to say that the boots "fitted like gloves" would be to pay the most felicitous pair of white kids a compliment. they had just as many natural wrinkles as they ought to have; and for the tassels--we have all seen the dandies of that day take out a comb, and comb the tassels of their fire-bucket-looking boots as often as they got into disorder; but mine needed no aid from such trickery and finessing. i had strolled forth at the decline of a day in spring, and had afterwards dined at long's--my boots and i. they had evidently been the admiration of every observer. i was entirely satisfied with _them_, and consequently with myself. returned home, a pair of slippers was substituted for them, and with my feet on the fender and the vapour of a cigar enwrapping me like a dressing-gown, i sat contemplating "my boots." thought reverted to the fortunes of my lord marquis of carabas, and i saw in my hessians a brighter destiny than puss in hers won for him. i thought too of the seven-leagued boots of my ancient friends the ogres, and felt that i could take old and new bond streets at a step. that night those boots melted into thin air. there was "nothing like leather" visible there in the morning. my golden vision had vanished as suddenly as alnaschar's--only his perished amidst the crash and clatter of a basket of crockery kicked into the clouds; mine had stolen away in solemn silence. not a creak was heard, yet the hessians were gone. it was the remark of my housekeeper that boots could not go without hands. such boots i thought might possibly have walked off by themselves. but when it was discovered that a window-shutter had been forced open, and sundry valuables carried away, it was plain that some conceited and ambitious burglar had eloped with my boots. the suspicion was confirmed by the detection of a pair of shoes conscientiously left behind, on the principle that exchange is no robbery. ugh!--such shoes. well might i declare that nothing like leather was visible. what odious feet had been thrust into my desecrated hessians! i put my legs into mourning for their loss; and, convinced that i should never procure such another pair, sank from that moment into mere wellingtons. it was not long after this, that, seated in a coffee-room in piccadilly, my attention was drawn to the indolent and comfortable attitude of a person, who, with his legs stretched conspicuously along the cushioned bench, was reading a newspaper. how it was i can hardly tell; but my eye was irresistibly attracted to his boots, just as othello's was to the handkerchief bound round the wounded limb of cassio. he seemed to be proud of them; they were ostentatiously elevated into view. the boots were hessians. though not now worn in their very "newest gloss," they were yet in excellent, i may say in enviable condition. my anxious glance not only wandered over their polished surface, but seemed to penetrate to their rich bright linings, the colour whereof was now no more a secret to me than were those silken tassels that dangled to delight the beholder. i knew _my_ boots again. the wearer, having the newspaper spread before his face, could not notice any observation directed to his lower extremities; my opportunity of inspection therefore was complete. they _were_ my hessians. my first impulse was to ring the bell for a boot-jack, and claim them upon the spot; but before i could do so the stranger suddenly sprang upon his feet, seized his hat, and with one complacent glance at those tasselled habiliments, which were far from having lost all their "original brightness," swaggered out of the coffee-room. curiosity prompted me to follow--i caught a glimpse of the bright backs of my boots as they flashed round the corner of a neighbouring street. pursuing them, i surveyed the wearer; and now perceived that not even those incomparable hessians could transform a satyr into hyperion, or convert a vulgar strut into the walk of a gentleman. those boots were never made for such limbs--never meant to be "sported" after so villanous a fashion. you could see that his calves were indifferently padded, and might have sworn the swaggerer was a swell blackleg--one of the shabby-genteel, and visibly-broken-down class. accordingly, after a turn or two, it was anything but surprising to see him squeeze himself into a narrow passage over the door of which was written the word "billiards." i heard my boots tramping up the dingy staircase to which the passage led--and my feet, as though from sympathy, and what the philosopher calls the "eternal fitness of things," were moving after them--when the "_cui bono?_" forcibly occurred to my mind! if i should demand my hessians, was there a probability of obtaining them? and if i should obtain them, was there a possibility of my ever wearing them again? could i think of treading in the boots of a blackleg, albeit they never were his own? no, i gave them up to the profanation which was their destiny. i called up hamlet's reflection on the vile uses to which we may return; and as for the gambler, who in once virtuous boots threaded the paths of vice and depravity, i kicked him--"with my mind's toe, horatio"--and passed on. shakspeare, in one of the most touching and beautiful of his sonnets, tells us how he bemoaned his outcast state, "and troubled deaf heaven with his bootless cries;" but with no such cries of mine is the reader doomed to be troubled. indeed, when i parted from my hessians on the occasion referred to, i never dreamed of mentioning them more. i had heard, as it seemed, their last creak. not only were they out of sight, but out of mind. it appeared just as likely that i should ever again be excited on their account, as that i should hang them up à-la-general-bombastes, and make war upon their adventurous displacer. yet it was not three months after the event recorded, that in the city, in broad-daylight, my hat was all but lifted off by the sudden insurrection of my hair, on recognising my boots again. yes, the very boots that once were mine, "_et nullus error!_" or, as we say in english, "and no mistake!" as easily to be identified were they as the freckled, wrinkled, shrunken features of a beloved friend, parted from in plump youth. i knew my boots, if i may so say, by their _expression_. altered as they were, to me were they the same:--"alike, but oh! how different." "the light of other days had faded." it could not be said of either hessian, that it figured on a "leg" this time. the wearer was evidently a collector in the "cast-off" line--had been respectable, and was still bent on keeping up appearances. this was plainly indicated by the _one_ tassel which the pair of boots yet boasted between them--a brown-looking remnant of grandeur, and yet a lively compromise with decay. the poor things were sadly distorted; the heels were hanging over, illustrating the downward tendency of the possessor; and there was a _leetle_ crack visible at the side. they were dayless and martinless--dull as a juryman--worn out like a cross-examined witness. they would take water like a teetotaller. there was scarcely a kick left in them. they were in a decline of the galloping sort; and appeared just capable of lasting out until an omnibus came by. a walk of a mile would have ensured emancipation to more than one of the toes that inhabited them. my once "lovely companions" were faded, but not gone. it was my fortune to meet them again soon afterwards, still further eastward. the recognition, as before, was unavoidable. they were _the_ boots, but "translated" out of themselves; another pair, yet the same. the heels were handsomely cobbled up with clinking iron tips, and a worsted tassel of larger dimensions had been supplied to match the remaining silk one. the boots thus regenerated rendered a rather equivocal symmetry to the legs of an attorney's clerk, whose life was spent in endless errands with copies of writs to serve, and in figuring at "free-and-easys" and spouting-clubs. they were well able to bear him on his daily and nightly rounds, for the new soles were thicker than any client's head in christendom. this change led me naturally enough into some profound speculations upon "wear and tear," and much philosophical musing on the absorption and disappearance of soles and heels after a given quantity of perambulation. but while i was wondering into what substances and what shapes the old leather might be passing, and also how much of my own original self (for we all become other people in time) might yet be remaining unto me, i lost sight for ever of the lawyer's clerk, but not of my boots--for i suspect he effected some legal transfer of them to a client who was soon as legally transferred to the prison in whitecross-street; since, passing that debtors' paradise soon after, i saw the identical boots (the once pale blue lining was now of _no_ colour) carried out by an aged dame, who immediately bent her steps, like one well acquainted with the way, towards "mine uncle's" in the neighbourhood. hessians that can escape from a prison may work their way out of a pawnbroker's custody; and my hessians had something of the quality of the renowned slippers of bagdad,--go where they might, they were sure to meet the eye of their original owner. the next time i saw the boots, they were on the foot-board of a hackney-coach; yea, on the very feet of the jarvey. but what a falling-off! translation was no longer the word. they had suffered what the poet calls a sea-change. the tops were cut round; the beautiful curve, the tassels, all had vanished. one boot had a patch on one side only; the other, on both. i thought of the exclamation of edmund burke,--"the glory of europe is extinguished for ever!" instinct told me they were _the_ boots; but- "the very hoby who them made, beholding them so sore decay'd, he had not known his work." i hired the coach, and rode behind my own boots: the speculative fit again seized me. i recollected how "all that's bright must fade," and "moralized the spectacle" before me. how many had i read of--nay seen and known--who had started in life like my boots,--bright, unwrinkled, symmetrical,--and who had sunk by sure degrees, by wanderings farther and farther among the puddles and kennels of society, even into the same extremity of unsightly and incurable distortion. ----"not warren, nor day and martin, nor all the patent liquids o' the earth, shall ever brighten them with that jet black they owed in former days." my very right to my own property had vanished. they had ceased to be _my_ boots; they were ceasing to be _boots_. they cost me something nevertheless; for having in my perturbation merely told the driver to "drive on," he took me to bayswater instead of covent-garden; and, as the price of my abstraction, abstracted seven-and-six-pence as his fare. from a hackney-coachman they seem to have descended to the driver of what had once been a donkey; to one who cried "fine mellow pears," "green ripe gooseberries," and other hard and sour assistants in the destruction of the human race. this i discovered one day by seeing "my boots" dragged to a police-office (their owner in them), where indeed one of the pair--if pair they might still be called--figured as a credible witness; it having been employed as a weapon, held by the solitary strap that yet adhered to it, for inflicting due punishment on the head of its master's landlord, a ruffian who had had the brutal inhumanity to tap at the door of an innocent tenant, and ask for his rent. it is probable that in this skirmish they sustained some damage, and required "renovation" once more; for i subsequently saw them at one of those "cobbler's-stalls" which are fast disappearing (the stall becoming a shop, and the shop an emporium), with an intimation in chalk upon the soles--"to be sold." of the original hessians nothing remained but a portion of the leggings. they had been soled and re-soled; the old patches had disappeared; and there was now a patch upon the new fronts which they had acquired. having had them _from_ the last, _to_ the last i resolved to track them; and now found them in the possession of a good ancient watchman of the good ancient time in fleet-street, from whose feet, however, they were one night treacherously stolen as he sat quietly slumbering in his box. the boots wandered once more into vicious paths, having become the property of a begging-letter impostor of that day, in whose company they were seen to stagger out of a gin-shop--then to run away with their tenant--to bear him, all unconscious of kennels, on both sides of the road, faster than lamplighter or postman can travel--and finally to trip him up against the machine of a "needy knifegrinder" (his nose coming into collision with the revolving stone), who, compassionating the naked feet of his seemingly penniless and sober fellow-lodger, had that very morning presented him with part of a pair of boots, as being better than no shoe-leather. this fragmentary donation was the sad remnant of my hessians--the "last remains of princely york." when we give a pair of old boots to the poor, how little do we consider into what disgusting nooks and hideous recesses they may carry their new owner! let no one shut up the coffers of his heart, or check even momentarily the noble impulse of charity; but it is curious to note what purposes a bashful maiden's left-off finery may be made to serve on the stage of a show at greenwich fair; how an honest matron's muff, passed into other hands, may be implicated in a case of shop-lifting; how the hat of a great statesman may come to be handed round to ragamuffins for a collection of half-pence for the itinerant conjuror; or how the satin slippers of a countess may be sandalled on the aching feet of a girl whose youth is one weary and wretched caper upon stilts! "my hessians"--neither mine, nor hessians, now--were on their last legs. theirs had not been "a beauty for ever unchangingly bright." they had experienced their decline; their fall was nigh. their earliest patchings suggested, as a similitude, the idea of a grecian temple, whose broken columns are repaired with brick; the brick preponderates as ruin prevails, until at length the original structure is no more. the boots became one patch! such were they on that winter-morn, when a ruddy-faced "translator" sat at his low door, on a low stool, the boots on his lap undergoing examination. after due inspection, his estimate of their value was expressed by his adopting the expedient of orator henley; that is to say, by cutting the legs off, and reducing what remained of their pride to the insignificance of a pair of shoes; which, sold in that character to a match-vender, degenerated after a few weeks into slippers. _sic transit_, &c. of the appropriation of the amputated portion no very accurate account can be rendered. fragments of the once soft and glossy leather furnished patches for dilapidated goloshes; a pair or two of gaiter-straps were extricated from the ruins; and the "translator's" little boy manufactured from the remains a "sucker," of such marvellous efficacy that his father could never afterwards keep a lapstone in the stall. as for the slippers, improperly so called, they pinched divers corns, and pressed various bunions in their day, as the boots, their great progenitors, had done before them, sliding, shuffling, shambling, and dragging their slow length along; until in the ripeness of time, they, with other antiquities, were carried to cutler-street, and sold to a venerable jewess. she, with knife keen as shylock's, ripped off the soles--all besides was valueless even to her--and, not without some pomp and ceremony, laid them out for sale on a board placed upon a crippled chair. yes, for sale; and to that market for soles there soon chanced to repair an elderly son of poverty; who, having many little feet running about at home made shoes for them himself. the soles became his; and thus of the apocryphal remains of my veritable hessians, was there just sufficient leather left to interpose between the tender feet of a child, and the hard earth, his mother! [illustration] on a wicked shoemaker. you say he has sprung from cain;--rather confess there's a difference vast: for cain was a son of the _first_ father while he is "a son of the last." [illustration] love seeking a lodging. at leila's heart, from day to day, love, boy-like, knock'd, and ran away; but love grown older, seeking then "lodgings for single gentlemen," return'd unto his former ground, and knock'd, but no admittance found- with his rat, tat, tat. his false alarms remember'd still. love, now in earnest, fared but ill; for leila in her heart could swear, as still he knock'd, "there's no one there." a single god, he then essay'd with single knocks to lure the maid- with his single knock. each passer-by, who watch'd the wight, cried "love, you won't lodge there to-night!" and love, while listening, half confess'd that all was dead in leila's breast. yet, lest that light heart only slept, bold love up to the casement crept- with his tip, tap, tap. no answer;--"well," cried love, "i'll wait, and keep off envy, fear, and hate; no other passion there shall dwell, if i'm shut out--why, here's a bell!" he rang; the ring made leila start, and love found lodgings in her heart- with his magic ring. l. b. [illustration: designed etched & published by george cruikshank may 1st 1841.] frank heartwell; or fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter i. it was about half a century ago in the closing twilight of an autumnal evening at that period of the season when the falling of the sear and yellow leaves indicated the near approach of winter, that a lady was seated at work in one of those comfortable parlours which, as far as the memory of living man can go back, were at all times considered essential to an englishman's ideas of enjoyment, and which certainly were not and are not to be found, approaching to the same degree of commodious perfection, in any other part of the world. by her side sat a beautiful boy some seven or eight years of age, whose dark glossy ringlets hung clustering down his shoulders over the broad and open white cambric collar of his shirt. his full and fair face bore the ripened bloom of ruddy health, and his large blue eyes, even though a child, were strongly expressive of tenderness and love. the lady herself was fair to look upon, possessing a placid cast of countenance which, whilst it invited esteem and confidence, calmly repelled impertinence or disrespect; her eyes, like those of her son, were mild and full, and meltingly blue, and through the shades of long dark lashes discoursed most eloquently the language of affectionate solicitude and fond regard; and it was impossible to look upon them, or be looked upon by them, without experiencing a glow of pleasure, warming and nourishing all the better feelings and purposes of the heart. in age she was twenty-six, but matronly anxiety gave her the appearance of being some two or three years older; her figure was faultless, and the tight sleeve of her gown fitting closely to her arm, and confined with a bracelet of black velvet at the wrist, displayed the form of a finely moulded limb; and the painter or the sculptor would have been proud to copy from so admirable a model. the floor of the room was covered with a soft turkey carpet, which, though somewhat faded, still retained in many parts its richness of colours. the panelled walls were of oak that had endured for more than one generation; and though time had thrown his darkened shadows over them, as if to claim them for his own, art had been called in aid, if not to defeat his claims, yet to turn them to advantage; for the blackened wood was polished to a mirror-like brightness, and instead of dispensing gloom, its reflections were light and cheerful. suspended in the upper compartments and surrounded with oval frames, tastefully carved and gilt, were well executed portraits by the celebrated masters of those and earlier days. between the two windows, where the whole of the light was thrown upon the person, hung suspended a pier looking-glass in a well-carved mahogany frame surrounded by the plume of the prince of wales, bearing the appropriate motto for the reflecting tablet itself, "ich dien;" and at the corners, in open work, were cut full-ripe ears of corn in their golden glory, sheaved together with true-love knots. in one angle of the room stood a lofty circular dumb-waiter, its planes decreasing as they rose in altitude and bearing a display of wine-glasses with those long white tortuous spiral columns, which, like the screw of archimedes, has puzzled older heads than those of childhood to account for the everlasting turns. there were, also, massive articles of plate of various periods, from the heavy spoons with the sainted apostles effigied at the extremity of the handles, to the silver filigree wrought sugar-stand, with its basin of blue enamelled glass. there were also numerous figures of ancient china, more remarkable for their fantastic shapes than either for ornament or for use. the tables were of dark mahogany, the side slabs curiously deviced, and the legs assuming something of an animal form with the spreading paw of the lion or the tiger on each foot. one table, however, that was carefully placed so as to be remote from danger, had a raised open-work, about two inches in height, round the edges of its surface, to protect and preserve the handsome and much-prized tea-service, which had been brought by a seafaring ancestor as a present from the "celestial empire." a commodious, soft-cushioned, chintz-covered sofa occupied one side of the parlour, and the various spaces were filled with broad and high-backed mahogany chairs, whose capacious seats were admirable representatives of composure and ease. but there was one with wide-spreading arms, that seemed to invite the weary to its embrace; it was stuffed with soft material, and covered entirely with thick yellow taffeta, on which many an hour of laborious toil had been expended to produce in needle-work imitations of rich fruit and gorgeous flowers; it was a relic of antiquity, and the busy fingers that had so skilfully plied the task had long since yielded to mouldering decay. the fire-place was capacious, and its inner sides were faced with earthenware tiles, on which were represented scenes and sketches taken from scripture history. it is true that some of the delineations bore a rather incongruous character: the serpent erecting itself on the tip of its tail to beguile eve; the apple, whose comparative dimensions was calculated to set the mouth of many a schoolboy watering; and not unfrequently a mingling of the selectæ e profanis amongst the groups caused curious speculations in the youthful mind. but who can call to recollection the many evening lectures which this constant fund of instruction and amusement afforded, without associating them with pleasing remembrances of innocence and peace? the fire-grate was large, and of the old-fashioned kind, somewhat of a basket-like form, small at the bottom, but spreading out into wider range as its side boundaries ascended. lighted tapers were on the table, together with a lady's work-box, and the small, half-rigged model of a vessel, which the boy had laid down that he might peruse the history and voyages of philip quarll, and now, sitting by his mother's knee, he was putting questions to her relative to the sagacious monkeys who were stated to have been poor philip's personal attendants and only friends. emily heartwell was, in every sense of the term, the "beloved" wife of a lieutenant in the british royal navy, who had bravely served with great credit to himself and advantage to the honour of his country's flag; but unfortunately becoming mixed up with the angry dissensions that had arisen amongst political partisans through the trial of admiral keppel by court-martial, he remained for some length of time unemployed, but recently, through the influence and intervention of his former commander and patron, sir george (afterwards lord) rodney, he had received an appointment to a ship-of-the-line that was then fitting out to join that gallant admiral in the west indies. the father of lieutenant heartwell had risen from humble obscurity to the command of a west indiaman; and his son having almost from his childhood accompanied him in his voyages, the lad had become early initiated in the perils and mysteries of a seaman's life, so that on parting with his parent he was perfectly proficient in all the important duties that enable the mariner to counteract the raging of the elements, and to navigate his ship in safety from port to port. what became of the father was never accurately known. he was bound to jamaica with a valuable cargo of home manufactures; he was spoken off the canaries, and reported all well; but from that day no tidings of him had been heard, and it was supposed that the ship had foundered at sea, and all hands perished. by some fortuitous circumstance, young heartwell had been brought under the especial notice of the intrepid rodney, who not only placed him on the quarter-deck of his own ship, but also generously patronised and maintained him through his probationary term, and at its close, though involved in difficulties himself, first procured him a lieutenant's commission, and then presented him with a handsome outfit, cautioning him most seriously, as he was a good-looking fellow, not to get entangled by marriage, at least, till he had attained post-rank, or was regularly laid up with the gout, when he was perfectly at liberty to take unto himself a wife. but the lieutenant had a pure, unsophisticated mind, sensibly alive to all the blandishments of female beauty, but with discretion to avoid that which he considered meretricious, and to prize loveliness of feature only when combined with principles of virtue rooted in the heart. ardently attached to social life, it can excite but little wonder that on mature acquaintance with the lady who now bore his name, he had forgotten the injunction of his commander; and, being possessed of a little property, the produce of well-earned prize-money, he offered himself to the acceptance of one who appeared to realise his most fervent expectations; and, when it is considered that to a remarkably handsome person the young lieutenant united some of the best qualities of human nature, my fair readers will at once find a ready reason for his suit not being rejected. in short, they were married. the father of mrs. heartwell, a pious clergyman, performed the ceremony, and certainly in no instance could there have been found two persons possessing a stronger attachment, based on mutual respect and esteem. an uncle, the brother of the lieutenant's father had, when a boy, gone out to the east indies, but he kept up very little communication with his family, and they had for some time lost sight of him altogether, when news arrived of his having prospered greatly, and the supposition was that he had amassed a considerable fortune. as this intelligence, however, was indirect, but little credit was given to it, and it probably would have passed away from remembrance, or at least been but little thought of, had not letters arrived announcing the uncle's death, and that no will could be discovered. the lieutenant, as the only surviving heir, was urged to put in his claim; and, though he himself was not very sanguine in his expectations that his uncle had realised a large fortune, yet it gratified him to think that there might be sufficient to assist in securing a respectable and comfortable maintenance for his wife and child during his absence. from an earnest desire to surprise mrs. heartwell with the pleasing intelligence, he had for the first time since their union refrained from informing her of his proceedings; and on the afternoon of the day on which our narrative opens, he had appointed to meet certain parties connected with the affair at the office of mr. jocelyn brady, a reputed clever solicitor in lincoln's inn, when the whole was to be finally arranged, and the deeds and papers placed in his possession in the presence of witnesses. cherishing not only the hope, but also enjoying the conviction, that in a short time he should be able to gladden her heart, the lieutenant imprinted a warm and affectionate kiss on the lips of his wife, and pressing his boy in his arms with more than his usual gaiety, he bade them farewell for a few hours, promising at his return to communicate something that would delight and astonish them. but, notwithstanding the hilarity of her husband, an unaccountable depression weighed heavily on the usually cheerful spirits of mrs. heartwell; and, whilst returning the embrace of her husband, a presentiment of distress, though she knew not of what nature or kind, filled her bosom with alarm; and a heavy sigh--almost a groan--burst forth before she had time to exercise consciousness, or to muster sufficient energy to restrain it. the prospect of, and the near approach to, the hour of their separation, had certainly oppressed her mind, but she would not distress her husband by openly yielding to the manifestation of grief that might render their parting more keenly painful. she had vigorously exerted all her fortitude to bear up against the anticipated trial which awaited her, of bidding a long adieu to the husband of her affections and the father of her child; but the pressure which now inflicted agony was of a different character to what she had hitherto experienced. it was a foreboding of calamity as near at hand, an undefined and undefinable sensation, producing faintness of spirit and sickness of heart; her limbs trembled, her breath faltered, and she laid her head upon his shoulder and burst into convulsive sobbings, that shook her frame with violent agitation. i am no casuist to resolve doubtful cases, but i would ask many thousands who have to struggle with the anxious cares, the numerous disappointments, and all the various difficulties that beset existence, whether they have not had similar distressing visitations, previous to the arrival of some unforeseen calamity. what is it, then, that thus operates on the faculties to produce these symptoms? it cannot be a mere affection of the nervous system, caused by alarming apprehensions of the future, for, in most instances, nothing specific has been known or decided. may it not, therefore, be looked upon as a wise and kind ordination of providence, to prepare the mind for disastrous events that are to follow? the lieutenant raised the drooping head of his wife, earnestly gazed on her expressive countenance, kissed away her tears, and then exclaimed, "how is this, emily? what! giving way to the indulgence of sorrow at a moment when prosperity is again extending the right hand of good-fellowship? we have experienced adverse gales, my love, but we have safely weathered them; and now that we have the promise of favourable breezes and smooth sailing, the prospect of renewed joy should gladden your heart." "but are you not soon to leave me, frank?" returned mrs. heartwell, as she strove to subdue the feelings which agitated her, "and who have i now in the wide world but you?" the lieutenant fervently and fondly pressed her to his heart, whilst with a mingled look of gentle reproach and ardent affection he laid his disengaged hand on the head of his boy, who raising his tear-suffused eyes to the countenance of his mother, as he endeavoured to smile, uttered, "do not be afraid mama, i will protect you till papa comes back!" the silent appeal of her husband and the language of her child promptly recalled the wife and the parent to a sense of her marital and maternal duties--she instantly assumed a degree of cheerfulness; and the lieutenant engaging to be home as early as practicable, took his departure to visit his professional adviser. the only male attendant (and he was looked upon more in the character of a humble friend than as a servant) on the lieutenant's establishment was an attached and faithful seaman, of some five-and-thirty years of age, who had undeviatingly adhered to the fortunes of his officer from the first moment of his entering into the naval service. he had served under rodney from boyhood, first in the prince george ninety-eight--then in the dublin seventy-four; and, subsequently, when the admiral hoisted his flag, he accompanied him in his career of glory, and was present in those memorable engagements which ultimately raised the british ensign to its proud supremacy on the ocean. possessed of a lively and contented turn of mind, ben brailsford was always cheerful and gay--his temper and his disposition coincided--there was, at all times, a pleasant smile upon his cheek and a kind word upon his tongue, and, in point of fact, his only faults were an occasional indulgence to excess in his favourite beverage--grog, and his still more excessive loquacity when spinning a tough yarn about his favourite commander, rodney, though it not unfrequently happened that one helped on the other. i have already remarked that young frank--for he was named after his father--was by his mother's side, and questioning her upon the subject of philip quarll's monkeys--but though desirous of imparting instruction to her son, yet her spirit was too much bowed down even to attend to him; besides, this was a matter of natural history with which she was but little acquainted, and, therefore, he was referred to honest ben, as the best authority to answer his inquiries. ben was accordingly summoned, and smoothing down his hair over his forehead with his hard horny hand as he entered the room, he "hoped as madam was well and master frank all ship-shape." "i am thinking of your master's departure, ben," returned the lady, "and therefore cannot be very easy in my mind, when i consider the risks to which he will be exposed on the turbulent ocean, both in the storm and in the battle." "bless you, my lady," returned the seaman, "what's the vally of a bit of a breeze, where there's skill and judgment to read the face of the heavens, and good practical seamanship to ease her with the helm, when the wild seas break over us--and as for a fight, why its pretty sharp work whilst it lasts, but when it's over and the grog abroach--not, my lady, as i ever gives way to more than does me good--but as i was a saying, when the action's ended and the grog sarved out"--and here he cast his eyes towards a well-replenished liquor-case that stood in the corner, and from which he had often been supplied--"why we shares it along with our prisoners, and drinks to the mortal memory of them as is gone." "but it must be a dreadful spectacle, ben, to witness the dead and the dying mingled together," said the lady, with a shudder, "the slain and the wounded in one promiscuous heap." "bless you, my lady, that comes o' not knowing the jometry of the thing," returned brailsford, in a tone and expression that evidenced experience; "they aren't by no manner o' means in one permiskus heap, for as soon as we find an onfortinate shipmate has let go the life-lines--and its easy diskivered by pressing the hand over the heart and feeling for the pallypitation--just for all the world master frank, as you'd listen for the ticking of a watch in a noisy place--and if so be as you don't find that there's not never no wibration, but all is motionless, from the main-spring having been carried away, so that the wheels have run down, why we knows well enough that the doctor's knife and all his medicine chest wouldn't get him to lend a hand to run out another gun, or rouse aboard the main-tack--so we launches him out at the port as expended stores, and we turns-to with a hearty good will to avenge his death." "but do they serve the officers so?" inquired mrs. heartwell, whose cheeks had become blanched during the plain recital of the seaman; "surely there is some funeral ceremony, some--" and she paused. "bless you, my lady, what's the odds so as you're happy," responded ben, scratching his head, whilst a good-humoured smile mantled over his face; "but the real truth of the thing is, that the officers being a sort of privileged class, expect a cast of the chaplin's _wadee mecum_--that's the parson's latin for prayer-book, master frank; but to my thinking a poor dev--that is, i means an onfortinate as sticks his spoon in the beckets for a full-due and loses the number of his mess, whilst sarving his country heart and soul--has rubbed out a multitude of sins whilst sponging his gun in the regard of dooty." "i dearly love my country, ben; i should be unworthy the name of englishwoman if i did not," returned the lady with fervour, as in the course of conversation she endeavoured to overcome her depression; "but why fight at all?" this query to one of rodney's tars would have been quite sufficient, had the law been administered then as it is in the present day, to have subjected the questioner to a commission of lunacy; and ben gave his mistress an earnest look, shading his eyes with his hand that he might not be deceived by the glare of the lights. at first he thought she was in joke, but finding from the unchangeableness of her countenance that she was serious, he replied-"well, my lady, in regard o' the upshot of fighting, it isn't for an onedecated tar like myself to dilute upon the religion of the thing; but, bless you, my lady, suppose as you had the english ensign hoisted on the staff, or, for the matter o' that, at the gaff-end, and an enemy was to dare to presume to be so onveterate bould as to fire a shot at it;" he warmed as he proceeded, "why wouldn't you, my lady, open your ports and run out your guns for the honour of ould england's glory? and when your guns are run out, why what's the use on 'em if you don't clap a match to the touch-holes and pour in a reg'lar broadside?" "oh, it must be horrible work, ben," said mrs. heartwell, as the picture of her husband, mangled and dying, was visibly presented to her view; "you throw the supposed dead overboard without being certain that life is extinct--" "avast, my lady, avast; we never does that--no, no; a shipmate or a messmate aren't so easily expended," returned ben, with a solemn shake of the head. "but there's a sort of nat'ral inkstink amongst us tars--a kind of cable-splice with each other, so that we knows at once as well as any doctor as ever sarved his time at pill-building when the strands are drawn, and the craft has slipped from its moorings; that is, my lady, jist as this here, we can tell in a moment when a shipmate or messmate has broke adrift and got beyond hail; bless you, they're all _distinct_ afore we gives 'em a launch, and as for the wounded, why they're carried below to the cockpit to get dressed, or to have their precious limbs lopped off like old junk, condemned as onsarviceable. but what's the odds, my lady, so as you're happy?" one of ben's peculiarities, and which long habit had rendered perfectly familiar to him, was the general use of the expression "what's the odds so as you're happy?" and as he mostly contrived to lug it in whatever the course of conversation might be, it often happened that it found utterance on very inappropriate occasions. the idea of happiness connected with the amputating of a limb would never have entered the mind of any other person than ben; but his mistress was too much accustomed to the humane and generous disposition of the worthy seaman to suppose that he was indulging in levity, or ridiculing distress; she was perfectly aware that all ben intended to convey was, that "a contented mind might be supported under every trial and misfortune." young frank had listened, as he always did, very attentively to ben's explanations and descriptions, and though the delicate sensibilities of the lad were very naturally wounded by the recital of narratives of deeds of blood and violence, yet when the seaman entered upon details of chivalrous enterprise connected with the necessity of asserting his country's honour, his youthful heart would glow with earnest desire to be enrolled amongst the brave of his native land. his mother had discouraged his unmatured but ambitious aspirings; her maternal solicitude had looked forward with sickening dread at the thoughts of her only child being exposed to the perils of the ocean. she had endured the long-suffering of anxious care and hope deferred during the absence of her husband, and her very soul dwelt with increased alarm and apprehension on the probability that not only would an additional weight of anxiety and distress encumber the every-day circumstances of life should her boy become a mariner, but there was also the certainty that in his departure she would lose one of the principal props to animated existence; the dear little companion of her leisure hours, with whom she could unreservedly converse upon a subject that was ever uppermost in her thoughts,--his father. then the idea of loneliness preyed upon her mind; and, there is something so cold and chilling in the thoughts of being left alone in the world, cut off from connexions that were once eminently endearing to the affections, to sit hour after hour, and day after day, communing with one's own sad heart, to pass the nights in sleepless retrospection, as visions of past enjoyment flit in pleasing array before the imagination, and then to turn the mind's eye to the obscure but dreaded events of the coming future, where all is darkened by gloomy forebodings; there is a keen and horrible distress in such meditative contemplations, that is calculated to waste the stoutest frame, and to unsettle the soundest reason; and happy indeed are they who seek for consolation from whence it alone can be obtained. although mrs. heartwell experienced more pain than pleasure at ben's recitals of storms and battles, yet she not unfrequently provoked him into narratives of danger and of death, for the purpose--as she hoped--of deterring her son from entering upon so hazardous an occupation as that of a seaman. but whilst she partially succeeded in awakening the acute sensibilities of the lad as to the difficulties to be encountered, so also was the pride and curiosity of an adventurous spirit aroused, and young frank grew more attached to the interesting accounts of foreign lands, and delineations of distant countries, than frightened at the tales of the battle and the breeze. philip quarll had been laid aside whilst ben stood conversing with his mistress--whom he at all times honoured with the appellation of "my lady,"--but now the seaman was requested to sit down and explain the nature of the monkeys, the book was resumed, and frank inquired "whether ben had ever seen an ape wild in the woods." "why, yes, master frank," responded the seaman, as he seated himself near the table, but at a respectful distance from his mistress. "i have seen 'em hanging on by the eye-lids amongst the trees." "hanging on by the eye-lids, ben!" repeated frank, in surprise; "why how could they do that?" "why to be sure, master frank, they warn't exactly holding fast by the eye-lids," returned the seaman, smiling; "but we uses the term as a figure o' speech, meaning as it's next to dancing upon nothing." this did not much mend the lad's knowledge of the matter, but as he was eager to hear something of the monkey tribe, he inquired "and how much bigger, ben, is a chimpanzee than an ape?" "a what, master frank--a jem pansy?" demanded the seaman, looking at the picture of quarll with his attendants. "do they call them jem pansies? well, to my thinking, it arn't natral to give a christen-like name to such oncivilized brutes as haven't got no rational faculties." frank explained, and the two were soon in deep and earnest conversation upon the relative qualities and characteristics of monkeys, whilst mrs. heartwell continued her work, occasionally listening to their discourse, but her thoughts principally engrossed by contemplating the coming separation from her husband. the ancient clock, which stood on a bracket at the first landing of the stairs, struck nine, and the lady, who had for some time been growing more and more uneasy at the lieutenant's stay, directed ben to have the supper things in readiness, and when he had left the room, frank was desired to prepare himself for bed. kneeling at his mother's feet, with hands closed together, he repeated his evening prayer, imploring the divine being to bless his parents--the servant lighted him to his room--and weary nature soon found refreshment in the sweet repose of undisturbed slumber. another hour passed away, and the anxious wife grew more restless and uneasy; she laid her watch upon the table, and though the hour was late, yet she felt impatient at the tardy movement of the hands, hoping that each succeeding minute would bring her husband home. but still he came not, and time continued to progress, unheeding both the joy and the sorrow that accompanied his eventful career. in vain did she strive to subdue the fluctuating emotions that, like the undulating swell of the ocean giving warning of an approaching tempest, seemed to indicate that a severe trial was at hand. every foot-fall in the street had excited hope, which died away with the receding sound; and the almost hysterical and sudden gush of delight was succeeded by a revulsion of sickening uncertainty and fearful surmisings. why or wherefore, she could not tell. but midnight was drawing near, the weather which had been fine became tempestuous, the winds howled and the rain beat against the windows, and the streets were deserted, except by the ancient watchman, whose slow and heavy tread could not be mistaken for the eager springiness of vigorous strength prompted by ardent affection hurrying to the home of the heart. mrs. heartwell tried to compose her mind by reading, but the effort was futile; the constant changes in the course of her thoughts disconnected the sentences, and the visions which torturing apprehensions conjured up were infinitely more vivid than the incidents recorded on the printed page. at length, weary nature claimed her due, and she fell into uneasy slumber; but though the mortal frame had yielded to fatigue, and strove to gain refreshing energy by repose, the intellect was still awake and powerful to witness the conflicting occurrences that filled up the scenic representations in the dramatic shiftings of her dream. and oh, how fearfully confused were the visions of mrs. heartwell's restless sleep! she saw her husband struggling with the waves as the lightning flashed and the wild tempest howled above his head, and she rushed into the vortex of the dark and bubbling waters to try and snatch him from destruction. but vain were her endeavours to approach him--they were hurled hither and thither upon the crests of the foaming billows, but could not grasp each other's hands; and then the scene suddenly changed, and she beheld the lieutenant wounded and bleeding on the deck as the stream of life was ebbing fast away. they were surrounded by the thunder and the smoke of battle; dark and vindictive, and gore-stained countenances were peering upon her through the curling vapours, and there was one amongst them more dark, more vindictive, more sanguinary than the rest, but the thickened and dense atmosphere was constantly throwing it into obscurity, so as to leave no especial tracings on the memory. she tried to get to her husband, but still that mysterious being constantly debarred her progress; her limbs became paralysed; she could see the lieutenant most distinctly, though the rest were enveloped in gloom; and as he looked at her with his sight fast fading away, the dim eyes were still expressive of the inseparable mingling of anxious solicitude and fervent tenderness. once more the picture changed; she was in her own dwelling, in that very parlour, clasped in his embrace as the fervid kiss of affection was impressed upon her lips. she would have chided his delay, but the delight that glowed within her bosom and the sound of his voice in cheerful greeting dispelled the anguish she had endured, and stifled the language of reproach before it could find utterance--she was again happy in his society. the lieutenant took his usual seat by the fireside opposite to his wife, and she was gazing upon him with feelings of gratification rendered more rich and delightful from the previous suffering she had experienced, when suddenly his features assumed a rigid and swollen aspect, a livid hue was on his cheeks, his limbs were stark and motionless, as he sat stiffly erect, whilst his eyes almost starting from his head were fixed intently upon her. "you are ill, frank," was her imagined exclamation, as she essayed to rise from her chair but could not. "oh do not look upon me thus--speak, speak to me," but the figure remained immovable--not a muscle of the face was stirred, and again that dark mysterious countenance, with its undefined outlines and misty filling up, appeared between them. "oh, what is this, frank?" uttered she, in a voice shrill and piercing through the extremity of agony; and bursting the bonds of sleep, she sprang from her chair at the very instant that ben opened the door of the room, and looked round it in surprise. "where is he, ben, where is he?" demanded the agitated woman, as she stared wildly on the vacant seat. "bless you, my lady," responded the seaman as he stood within the half-opened door, "i thought as muster heartwell were here, seeing as he hailed me jist now in the kitchen, and i've come to see what his pleasure is?" a thrill of horror instantaneously seized upon every portion of mrs. heartwell's frame--a sensation that for the moment struck at the very seat of vitality, and was carried through the entire system. "it cannot be," at length she uttered; "no one has opened the doors--the servants are all in bed:" she gasped for breath as she falteringly continued, "father of heaven, in mercy relieve me from this dreadful state. yes, yes, it must have been--it is nothing more than a dream," and seating herself upon the sofa, she buried her face upon the pillow, and burst into unrestrained and irrepressible tears. ben had implicitly obeyed the instructions of his mistress in seeing the supper materials prepared, and at the accustomed hour the maid-servants went to bed, leaving the gallant seaman alone in the kitchen to the enjoyment of his pipe and a well-filled stiff glass of cold grog. unaccustomed to scrutinise the conduct of his superiors, ben gave himself but little trouble or consideration for the unusually long-continued absence of his master; and if a thought did obtrude it was merely to conjecture that the lieutenant might have fallen in with some old messmates or friends, who, in the height of enjoyment over their social or festive intercourse, had induced him to stay out beyond his ordinary time for returning. it is true ben reasoned upon deductions based upon what he himself would have done under similar circumstances; for though the worthy tar had practised a little of the amiable towards sally the housemaid, yet he was unacquainted with, and consequently could not well account for, the secret and hidden springs that prompted the undeviating attention of mr. heartwell in studying the comfort and happiness of his wife as intimately connected with his own. ben sat smoking and cogitating upon the station he should probably occupy when again upon the element he loved to control, and his spirit rose as he contrasted the busy routine of duty on board a smart ship at sea, with the idle and quiet of a calm life on shore even with sally to sweeten it. he fancied himself once more at the weather wheel, as with a predominant feeling of pride he kept the given point of the compass without vibrating from the direct course he was ordered to steer; and then in his watch below with his brother tars keeping up saturday night with grog, and jest, and jocund song; and as he made repeated applications to the jorum of strong beverage by his side, his fancy peopled the vacant space around him with messmates and shipmates till both pipe and glass were emptied, and he unconsciously resigned himself to the close embraces of a sailor's morpheus. he, too, had been dreaming, but it was of the mere ordinary concerns of the forecastle or main-top, without experiencing a single terrific sensation except when the supposed sonorous hail of the first lieutenant through his speaking-trumpet afforded a convincing testimonial that something more was expected in the exercise of their duties than the playfulness of childhood. but ben heard it fearlessly, for he not only knew what he had to do, but he was also well versed in the most approved method of doing it, and ever active and obedient, he performed his task with alacrity and skill. whilst thus involved in all the intricate mazes of visionary speculation, he thought he heard the well remembered sound of his master's voice calling upon him; and springing to his feet, he rubbed his eyes as he gave the usual responsive "ay, ay, sir," and found the lieutenant standing before him. but the delusion almost instantly ceased--the figure receded and disappeared, and as the door of the kitchen was shut, ben concluded in his mind that it was all moonshine as to the appearance, that he really had heard his master's call, and hurrying up stairs he entered the parlour at the moment when his mistress awoke in such thrilling agony. the flow of tears relieved her overcharged heart, and without questioning the seaman she sent him below again, and prostrating herself before her maker, she offered up an earnest prayer for fortitude to undergo affliction, and tranquillity of mind to meet every dispensation that might occur--it was the poor dependant created, supplicating the high and almighty creator; it was the weak and the defenceless imploring the aid of the omnipotent. the appeal was heard and answered--the broken and the contrite spirit was not despised; and mrs. heartwell arose from her knees strengthened in the confidence that he who spread abroad immeasurable space and displayed the firmament as his handy work--who fed the young ravens when they cried, and clothed the lilies of the field in all their beauty, would not desert her in the hour of tribulation. [illustration] monument to napoleon! on the removal of napoleon's remains, i prepared the above design for a monument; but it was not sent, because it was not wanted. there is this disadvantage about a design for _his_ monument;--it will suit nobody else. this could not, therefore, be converted into a tribute to the memory of the late distinguished philosopher, muggeridge, head master of the grammar-school at birchley; nor into an embellishment for the mausoleum of the departed hero fitz-hogg, of the pipeclays. it very often happens, however, that when a monument to a great man turns out to be a misfit, it will, after a while, be found to suit some other great man as well as if his measure had been taken for it. just add a few grains to the intellectual qualities, subtract a scruple or so from the moral attributes--let out the philanthropy a little and take in the learning a bit--clip the public devotion, and throw an additional handful of virtues into the domestic scale--qualify the squint, in short, or turn the aquiline into a snub--these slight modifications observed, and any hero or philosopher may be fitted to a hair with a second-hand monumental design. the standing tribute "we _ne'er_ shall look upon his like again," is of course applicable in _every_ case of greatness. * * * * * "is this the man of thousand thrones, who strew'd our earth with hostile bones! and can he _thus_ survive!" * * * * * so byron sang, in accents of astonishment, long before the object of it was even once buried. is the note of wonder less called for, and less natural now--now that the world has lived to witness, not only the first, but the second funeral of its imperial agitator? is _this_ napoleon le grand! and looked alexander after _this_ fashion--barring the decorations of his bony extremities! agitator still! aye, agitator even in thine ashes thou must be called--whatsoever name else thou mayst be destined to survive! whether boney, bonyparty, buonaparte, napoleon, emperor! whether in the future, as in the past, thou shalt be addressed by any one of that astounding collection of titles which the most metaphysical and admiring of thy biographers once gathered from the public journals and set forth in startling array--as monster, tyrant, fiend, upstart, usurper, rebel, regicide, traitor, wretch, villain, knave, fool, madman, coward, impostor--or these again with suitable adjectives to reinforce them, as unnatural monster, sanguinary tyrant, diabolical fiend, corsican upstart, military usurper, wicked rebel, impious regicide, perfidious traitor, vile wretch, base villain, low-born knave, rank fool, egregious madman, notorious coward, detestable impostor;--or this other set of epithets, which, in more countries than france, and not unsparingly in our own, have since been associated with thy name--as conqueror, potentate, preserver, genius, liberator, law-giver, statesman, ruler, regenerator, enthusiast, martyr, hero, benefactor--these again being reinforced as before, thus--invincible conqueror, mighty potentate, glorious preserver, guardian genius, generous liberator, enlightened law-giver, magnificent statesman, wise ruler, national regenerator, sincere enthusiast, devoted martyr, triumphant hero, beneficent benefactor:--by these names, by any one of them possibly, thou mayst not be especially distinguished in after times; but as agitator at least thou must be hailed while language lasts! --it may justly be doubted whether the figure thus looking down upon a pyramid of skulls, is indeed "the man of thousand thrones"--whether he _does_ "thus survive." the design is one of those that "show men as they ought to be, not as they are." that opening of the coffin at st. helena opens up a world of curiosity, of wonder, and alarm. all the spectators were awed and astounded at the absence of the great dictator of the grave--change! all the beholders were stricken to marble, or melted into water-drops, to see death looking like life; to survey the pale and placid features of the emperor, expressing the serenity of repose, not the workings of decay--to witness a sign of power beyond that which ordinary clay may boast, and to feel that a "divinity did hedge" indeed the hero-king, in preserving all that was mortal of the exiled chief from the ravages of the worm. there lay the emperor napoleon--(he was recognised then by the authorities, and should the parties meet in the shades, even george the fourth can no longer style him general buonaparte)--there lay the emperor--not simply in his habit as he lived, but in the very flesh which he took with him out of longwood. there was the positive and unwasted substance--and there too was the seeming spirit. the eyes only were wanting to give it reality and consciousness. the mighty watcher had fallen asleep, but who could say that he never again was to wake up? the restless visionary had sunk, torpid, into a dream of years. the monarch had abdicated the throne of life without finally crossing its confines. at best, the spectacle presented an extraordinary compromise with the insatiate destroyer. the archer had for once half-missed his aim. now, it will be remembered that fauntleroy was considered to bear a decided resemblance to napoleon--a very respectable "likeness-done-in-this-style" sort of portrait--and fauntleroy, as we all hear, is said to be alive still! somebody has remarked--in fact we remarked it ourselves--that _on dit_ is french for "a lie;" and so it may be in this particular: still the coincidence is curious. even the likeness of napoleon is associated with things living; but napoleon himself has been seen, recognised, identified--looking like life itself--sleeping, sightless, but not dead. we have all been reminded lately of the manner in which his return from elba was announced in the _moniteur_. it will bear repetition here:--"1st announcement--the demon has escaped from banishment: he has run away from elba. 2d--the corsican dragon has landed at cape juan. 3d.--the tiger has shown himself at gap--the troops are advancing from all sides, in order to arrest his progress--he cannot possibly escape. 4th--the monster has really advanced as far as grenoble--we know not to what treachery to ascribe it. 5th--the tyrant is actually at lyons. fear and terror seized all at his appearance. 6th--the usurper has ventured to approach the capital to within sixty hours' march. 7th--buonaparte is advancing by forced marches--but it is impossible he should reach paris. 8th--napoleon will reach under the walls of paris to-morrow. 9th--the emperor is at fontainbleau. 10th--yesterday evening his majesty the emperor made his public entry, and arrived at the palace of the tuileries--nothing can exceed the universal joy!" what would be his reception now, were he--as he escaped so strangely from elba, and worked his way still more strangely from under the willow of st. helena--were he to _wake_ where he is! the people cried vive _l'empereur_ as the coffin that held him was borne by. and truly the emperor yet _lives_ in france! [as for me, who have skeletonised him prematurely, paring down the prodigy even to his hat and boots, i have but "carried out" a principle adopted almost in my boyhood, for i can scarcely remember the time when i did not take some patriotic pleasure in persecuting the great enemy of england. had he been less than that, i should have felt compunction for my cruelties; having tracked him through snow and through fire, by flood and by field, insulting, degrading, and deriding him everywhere, and putting him to several humiliating deaths. all that time, however, he went on "overing" the pyramids and the alps, as boys "over" posts, and playing at leap-frog with the sovereigns of europe, so as to kick a crown off at every spring he made--together with many crowns and sovereigns into my coffers. deep, most deep, in a personal view of matters, are my obligations to the agitator--but what a debt the country _owes to him!_] [illustration] photographic phenomena, or the new school of portrait-painting. "sit, cousin percy; sit, good cousin hotspur!"--henry iv. "my lords, be seated."--_speech from the throne._ i.--invitation to sit. now sit, if ye have courage, cousins all! sit, all ye grandmamas, wives, aunts, and mothers; daughters and sisters, widows, brides, and nieces; in bonnets, braids, caps, tippets, or pelisses, the muff, mantilla, boa, scarf, or shawl! sit all ye uncles, godpapas, and brothers, fathers and nephews, sons, and next of kin, husbands, half-brother's cousin's sires, and others; be you as science young, or old as sin: turn, persian-like, your faces to the sun! and have each one his portrait done, finish'd, one may say, before it's begun. nor you alone, oh! slight acquaintances! or blood relations! but sit, oh! public benefactors, whose portraits are hung up by corporations. ye rulers of the likeness-loving nations, ascend you now the photographic throne, and snatch from time the precious mornings claim'd by artists famed (in the court circular you'll find them named). sit too, ye laurell'd heroes, whom detractors would rank below the statesman and the bard! sit also, all ye actors, whose fame would else die with you, which is hard: whose _falstaffs_ here will never _slenders_ prove. so true the art is! m.p.'s, for one brief moment cease to move; and you who stand as leaders of great parties, be sitting members! ye intellectual marchers, sit resign'd! and oh! ye authors, men of dazzling mind, perchance with faces foggy as november's, pray sit! apollo turned r.a. the other day, making a most decided hit. they say. ph[oe]bus himself--he has become a shee! (morning will rank among the knights full soon) and while the moon, who only draws the tides, is clean outdone, the stars are all astonishment to see earth--sitting for her portrait--to the sun! ii.--the process of the portraiture. it's all very fine, is it not, oh! ye nine? to tell us this planet is going too fast, on a comet-like track through the wilderness vast: instead of collision, and chances of splitting in contact with stars rushing down the wrong line, the world at this moment can't get on--for sitting: and earth, like the lady enchanted in _comus_, fix'd fast to her chair with a dignified air, is expecting to sit for a century there; much wondering, possibly, half in despair, how the deuce she's to find her way back to her domus. "keep moving," we know, was the cry long ago; but now, never hare was "found sitting," i swear, like the crowds who repair to old cavendish square, and mount up a mile and a quarter of stair. in procession that beggars the lord mayor's show! and all are on tiptoe, the high and the low, to sit in that glass-cover'd blue studio; in front of those boxes, wherein when you look your image reversed will minutely appear, so delicate, forcible, brilliant, and clear, so small, full, and round, with a life so profound, as none ever wore in a mirror before; or the depths of a glassy and branch-shelter'd brook, that glides amidst moss o'er a smooth-pebbled ground. apollo, whom drummond of hawthornden styled "apelles of flowers," now mixes his showers of sunshine, with colours by clouds undefiled; apelles indeed to man, woman, and child. his agent on earth, when your attitude's right, your collar adjusted, your locks in their place, just seizes one moment of favouring light, and utters three sentences--"now it's begun,"- "it's going on now, sir,"--and "now it is done;" and lo! as i live, there's the cut of your face on a silvery plate, unerring as fate, worked off in celestial and strange mezzotint, a little resembling an elderly print. "well, i _never_!" all cry; "it is cruelly like you!" but truth is unpleasant to prince and to peasant. you recollect lawrence, and think of the graces that chalon and company give to their faces; the face you have worn fifty years doesn't strike you! iii.--the criticisms of the sitters--the moral. "can this be _me_! do look, mama!" poor jane begins to whimper; "i _have_ a smile, 'tis true;--but, pa! this gives me quite a simper." says tibb, whose plays are worse than bad, "it makes my forehead flat;" and being classical, he'll add, "i'm blow'd if i'm like _that_." courtly, all candour, owns his portrait true; "oh, yes, it's like; yes, very; it will do. extremely like me--every feature--_but_ that plain pug-nose; now mine's the grecian cut!" her grace surveys her face with drooping lid; prefers the portrait which sir thomas did; owns that o'er this _some_ traits of truth are sprinkled; but views the brow with anger--"why, it's wrinkled!" "like _me_!" cries sir turtle; "i'll lay two to one it would only be guess'd by my foes; no, no, it is plain there are spots in the sun, which accounts for these spots on my nose." "a likeness!" cries crosslook, the lawyer, and sneers; "yes, the wig, throat and forehead i spy, and the mouth, chin, and cheeks, and the nose and the ears, but it gives me a cast in the eye!" * * * * * thus needs it the courage of old cousin hotspur, to sit to an artist who flatters no sitter; yet self-love will urge us to seek him, for what spur so potent as that, though it make the truth bitter! and thus are all flocking, to see ph[oe]bus mocking, or making queer faces, a visage per minute; and truly 'tis shocking, if winds should be rocking the building, or clouds darken all that's within it, to witness the frights which shadows and lights manufacture, as like as an owl to a linnet. for there, while you sit up, your countenance lit up, the mists fly across, a magnificent rack; and your portrait's a patch, with its bright and its black, out-rembrandting rembrandt, in ludicrous woe, like a chimney-sweep caught in a shower of snow. yet nothing can keep the crowd below, and still they mount up, stair by stair; and every morn, by the hurry and hum, each seeking a prize in the lottery there, you fancy the "last day of drawing" has come. l. b. [illustration: [all the world and his wife must recollect that they are not figuring before a mere mortal artist with whom they may all the while laugh and chat. here you must sit mute and motionless. you _may_ wink; you may perhaps just put on a smile; but you _must not_ laugh; for if you do, one half of your head will go off!]] [illustration: commentary upon the late--"new police act" by which it appears that ... ... designed etched & published by george cruikshank-june 1st 1841] punch _v._ law. i was dozing over the last half-dozen glasses of a bowl of punch (the rest of the club having departed) when the waiter at the british came into the coffee-room to remind me that it was saturday night, and that in obedience to the new police act it was absolutely necessary that i should take my departure before sunday morning--the door must be finally closed at twelve o'clock, and it then wanted but five minutes. this appeal, and a "now, sir, if you please," a few times repeated, were not more than half heard; sleep seized me irresistibly, and in twenty seconds more i was dreaming that i had fallen fast asleep, with the punch-bowl for a nightcap. "come, move on--make way here, will you though?--move on, you sir! no punch and judy now; it's unlegal by the law; ain't you awor o' the new police act what's put it down?" such was the arbitrary order which in my dream serjeant higginbotham of the x division issued, as he pushed his way into the centre of a crowd of urchins assembled round that little stage on which punch was playing off his antics in unapproachable style. as the words fell from his lips, they smote my heart with the fear that a revolution in the country must inevitably follow. punch to be put down by act of parliament! judy to be snatched away for ever by a vote of both houses! mirth, fun, jollity, to be legislated into nothing--in the passing of a clause, or the twinkling of the speaker's eye! impossible; put punch down in one place, lo! he is up again in another; stifle his voice in the east, and hark! you hear him the next minute squeaking in the west, like the piping shepherd-boy, "as though he should never grow old." this was consolatory to my feelings; but yet methought, the mere intent, the bare threat of the legislature to banish the people's own punch, their time-honoured favourite, would paralyse all london at first, and then all london would be seen on its legs rushing to the queen's palace to petition! to my astonishment, not a soul in that crowd took the smallest notice of serjeant higginbotham's imperative command to be off. punch went on squeaking and rapping away; the troop of boys, girls, and miscellanies around, continued to grin, laugh, scream, and stretch their necks to stare over one another's heads as though they never could look enough; and what was more, the policeman, who had penetrated into the midst of them, and of whose presence they appeared so singularly heedless, stood there, grinning, laughing, screaming, and stretching his neck to stare too. there indeed stood serjeant h., his truncheon dropping from one hand, while the other was tightly pressed against his side, where he seemed to be in imminent peril of a split. that truncheon he had scarce uplifted, when the laugh seized him, and his arm fell powerless. serjeant higginbotham, six feet high, was a little boy again. how he laughed and roared. i heard his "ho! ho!" for days afterwards, and can even now see the tears run down his cheeks, fringing his whiskers like dewdrops on a bush. close by was a youngster flying his kite contrary to law; on the approach of a policeman, he let go, turned to run, caught a glimpse of punch--and there he stood fascinated by the fun. his pursuer, who was close behind him, was just about to catch him by the collar, when he too stopped short, and with distended jaws almost doubled the horse-laugh of the side-aching serjeant. up came a sweep with the illegal cry of 'we-weep' on his lips, but he could not break the law by giving utterance to the cry--for laughter. presently came by a genius playing an organ, and another blowing a trumpet--the policemen heard not the unlawful music, and it suddenly ceased, stopped by the irresistible and all-absorbing punch. a boy came next trundling his hoop, with 46 d trundling after him; in two minutes they were standing side by side, laughing from ear to ear. a dustman had just raised his voice and got out, "du--" when his bell seemed to stop of itself, and "my eye!" was all he could articulate. a lad behind a hackney-coach jumped down, scorning a three-miles ride, under the influence of the prevailing risibility. all were drawn insensibly into the vortex of laughter. every violator of the new law, albeit aware of having fallen under the vigilant observation of the police, lost on the instant all sense of responsibility, all inclination to shun the danger of apprehension, and joining the crowd, became utterly unconscious of any law but the law of nature, and supremely blessed in ignorance of the very existence of a constable. more astounding still was the suddenness with which the rush of policemen from all quarters, pursuing the offenders, came to a stand-still. each in turn followed his intended victim into the charmed circle, gave up the chase in the moment of success, and surrendered himself captive to punch instead of taking a prisoner. "and those who came to seize, remain'd to laugh." at length, half the trades, half the schools, all the idlers, and all the policemen of the metropolis, seemed gathered there together. and there they all stood spell-bound, wrought upon by one common emotion; shaking their sides against one another, and sending up a roar, compared with which the thunder of the danish kettle-drums and cannon of old was a dead silence. here, methought, is a lesson for legislators! they would put down that which puts down nuisances, and turns public disturbers into the happiest and most harmless of mortals! and they would suppress it by agents who came in contact with the enemy only to join his ranks, "for we have all of us one human heart." put down punch! fifty parliaments could never do it! there's a divinity doth hedge him. punch for a time can suppress kite-flying, hoop-trundling, bell-ringing, and trumpet-blowing--which the law cannot; how then should punch himself be put down? immortal puppet! the true friend of the people, and the promoter of good-humour among all her majesty's loving subjects! such _would_ have been my reflections; but the accumulated roar of the laughing throng awoke me--when i found that the waiter was snoring very loud in the lobby of the coffee-room. the house had long been shut for the night; and having violated the law, i was obliged to content myself with a broiled bone and a bed at the british--with an extra tumbler of _punch_! [illustration: commentary upon the "new police act" (n^o.2.) designed etched & published by george cruikshank june 1st 1841] "original poetry:" by the late sir fretful plagiary, knight, member of the dramatic authors' association, fellow of the parnassian society, &c. * * * * * _now first printed from the original copies in the handwriting of that popular author._ edited by laman blanchard. we have considerable pleasure in discharging the duty imposed upon us, of transcribing the mss. which one of sir fretful plagiary's numerous living descendants has placed in our hands, and of submitting to the public the following specimens of "something new." whatever may be thought in other respects of these, the latest emanations--or, as some with equal correctness perhaps would say, effusions--of an immortal genius, we unhesitatingly pronounce them to be original. _these poems bear no resemblance to anything ever before offered to the public._ now this is a declaration which cannot fail to awaken in the reader's mind a strong suspicion that the ideas are mere imitations, and the language a mere echo, of the thoughts and expressions of other poets. in this solitary instance the acute reader will be mistaken in his supposition. there is no one line that can be called an _imitation_--no phrase that can be pronounced an _echo_. line after line is equally emphatic, interesting, melodious, and--original. this fact we might establish by citing at full length a remarkably novel and curious production of sir fretful's, which, with the fineness of shakspeare and dryden united, opens thus:- "farewell! thou canst not teach me to forget; the power of beauty i remember yet." but we prefer proceeding at once to a strikingly harmonious, and singularly analytical composition, bearing the designation of an ode to the human heart. blind thamyris, and blind mæonides, pursue the triumph and partake the gale! drop tears as fast as the arabian trees, to point a moral or adorn a tale[2]. full many a gem of purest ray serene, thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears, like angels' visits, few and far between, deck the long vista of departed years. man never is, but always to be bless'd; the tenth transmitter of a foolish face, like aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest, and makes a sunshine in the shady place. for man the hermit sigh'd, till woman smiled, to waft a feather or to drown a fly, (in wit a man, simplicity a child,) with silent finger pointing to the sky. but fools rush in where angels fear to tread, far out amid the melancholy main; as when a vulture on imaus bred, dies of a rose in aromatic pain. music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, look on her face, and you'll forget them all; some mute inglorious milton here may rest, a hero perish, or a sparrow fall. my way of life is fall'n into the sere; i stood in venice on the bridge of sighs, like a rich jewel in an ethiop's ear, who sees through all things with his half-shut eyes. oh! for a lodge in some vast wilderness! full many a flower is born to blush unseen, fine by degrees and beautifully less, and die ere man can say 'long live the queen.' if in the above any reader should be reminded of the "long resounding march and energy divine" of poets past or present, it can only be because our illustrious and profusely-gifted bard has clustered together more remarkable, and we trust they will long prove memorable, lines, than any one of his predecessors has in the same space given an example of. that poem can be of no inferior order of merit, in which milton would have been proud to have written one line, pope would have been equally vain of the authorship of a second, byron have rejoiced in a third, campbell gloried in a fourth, gray in a fifth, cowper in a sixth, and so on to the end of the ode; which thus realises the poetical wealth of that well-known line of sir fretful's, "infinite riches in a little room." but we must not, by prosaic comment, detain the impatient reader from other specimens of the striking originality of this writer's powers. among some fragments thrown loose in his desk, we find the following:- when lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, there's such a charm in melancholy, i would not if i could be gay. again: there's a beauty for ever unchangingly bright, for coming events cast their shadows before; oh! think not my spirits are always as light, like ocean-weeds cast on the surf-beaten shore. we have pronounced these two stanzas to be original; and they are: but with reference to the first of them we admit that a distinguished living critic, to whom it was shown, remarked that it did remind him a little of something in some other author--and he rather thought it was goldsmith; a second critic, equally eminent, was forcibly reminded by it of something which he was convinced had been written by rogers. _so much for criticism!_ to such treatment is original genius ever subjected. its traducers cannot even agree as to the derivation of the stolen property; they cannot name the author robbed. one cries, spenser; another, butler; a third, collins. we repeat, it is the fate of originality. "garth did not write his own dispensary," says pope jeeringly; campbell has had his exile of erin vehemently claimed by a desperate wrestler for renown; and at this very time a schoolmaster in scotland is ready to swear that the author of the "burial of sir john moore" never wrote a line of it. but we now pass to another piece by sir fretful; and this, whether its sentiments be of a high or a low order, its imagery appropriate or incongruous, is entirely his own:- lives there a man with soul so dead, who never to himself has said, "shoot folly as it flies?" oh! more than tears of blood can tell, are in that word farewell, farewell! 'tis folly to be wise. and what is friendship but a name, that boils on etna's breast of flame? thus runs the world away: sweet is the ship that's under sail to where yon taper cheers the vale, with hospitable ray! drink to me only with thine eyes through cloudless climes and starry skies! my native land, good night! adieu, adieu, my native shore; 'tis greece, but living greece no more- whatever is is right! we have thought it expedient to point out briefly the peculiar beauty of some of our author's lines; but it cannot be necessary to point out the one peculiar and exclusive quality of his writings--his perspicacity--his connectedness. his verse "flows due on to the propontic, nor knows retiring ebb." you are never at a loss to know what he means. in his sublimest passages he is intelligible. this is his great beauty. no poet perhaps is so essentially _logical_. we close our specimens with another short poem; it is entitled, "on life, et cetera." know then this truth, enough for man to know: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, who would be free themselves must strike the blow. retreating lightly with a lovely fear from grave to gay, from lively to severe, to err is human, to forgive divine, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine like quills upon the fretful porcupine. all are but parts of one stupendous whole, the feast of reason and the flow of soul. * * * * * we ne'er shall look upon his like again, for panting time toils after him in vain, and drags at each remove a lengthening chain; allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way with sweet, reluctant, amorous delay! leaving this great poet's samples of the mighty line, or, as it is sometimes called, the lofty rhyme, to "speak for themselves," we conclude with a word or two on a subject to which _one_ of his effusions here printed has (thanks to what are called the critics) unexpectedly led--we mean the subject of literary loans, or, as they are more familiarly and perhaps felicitously designated, literary thefts. a critic of high repute has said, "a man had better steal anything on earth, than the thoughts of another;" agreed, unless when he steals the thought, he steal the words with it. the economising trader in joe miller who stole his brooms ready made, carried on a prosperous business. some authors steal only the raw material; or rather, they run away with another man's muse, but for fear of detection, and to avoid the charge of felony, leave the drapery behind--a practice which cannot be too severely reprehended. it is the same principle on which, according to sheridan (sir fretful's _friend!_) gipsies disguise stolen children to make them pass for their own. now sir fretful, alluding to shakspeare in a poem which has never yet been published, says very nobly- "hereditary bondsmen, know ye not he wants that greatest art, the art to blot!" if we might dare to parody (scott said it was a sin to parody--"we are seven") any one line sanctified by the genius of a plagiary, we should say that too many of his descendants want that greatest art, the art to steal. they steal--but not with integrity. there may be, nay there is, such a thing as honest theft--equitable robbery--prigging with justice and honour. we hold that in all cases of literary borrowing, or robbery (for it comes to the same thing), it is ten million times better to rob or borrow without the least disguise, equivocation, or mutilation whatsoever. take the line as you find it. don't crack it as you would a nut, picking out the idea, appropriating it to your own purpose, and leaving only the husk behind. you will never get an artificial shell to grow round it; it will never be the nut it was before. take it whole. prudery in these cases is often worse than folly--it is shabbiness. it is folly, when, after stealing a fine symmetrical thought, a whole morning is spent in disguising, distorting, and deforming it, until at last all that remains of it merge into the unprofitable moral--"of no use to anybody but the owner." it is shabbiness, when, as is the practice of prose-writers, a splendid passage is purloined, and a bargain is struck with conscience; when, just for decency's sake, six words of the sentence are publicly attributed by inverted commas to the right owner, while all the rest assumes the character of originality. we may give an example in the following passage from burke's reflections on the revolution in france, which we will suppose to be thus printed:- but the "age of chivalry" is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and the "glory of europe" is extinguished for ever. the unbought grace of life, the "cheap defence of nations[3]," the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, "is gone!" * * * * * this cunning practice of acknowledging a few words borrowed, with a view to divert suspicion from the many you have stolen, is like confessing a lawful debt of sixpence, due to the man which you have just plundered of fifty pounds; and this practice, sir fretful plagiary, to his immortal honour, scorned to adopt. could his original and abundant genius have stooped to steal, he would have stolen conscientiously; he would have taken the whole passage outright; instead of spoiling everything he laid his hands upon, and making (as dryden says) "the fine woman end in a fish's tail." war is honourable, manslaying is not; pillage is legalised by custom, which cannot be said of picking pockets. thus, as it is more honourable to pillage than to pilfer, so is it to seize upon a whole line, or even a couplet, than to extract the essence of it surreptitiously, or sneak off with a valuable epithet; and it is the more honest, because every author has a better chance, after the robbery has served its purpose, of getting back his own. had this principle been in operation from the beginning, what confusion it would have prevented! what discords between authors! what perplexities in settling their claims to disputed metaphors, and their rights in contested ideas! from the mere want of this common honesty in purloining, it is impossible, in many instances, to come to an equitable adjustment. it is a wise poet that knows his own conceit--or to prevent mistakes, let us say, his own idea. he sees his private property transferred to the pages of another, and cannot swear to it. there is no saying which is yours and which is his. _tuum_ rhymes to _suum_, and always will. footnotes: [footnote 2: the printer's devil had taken upon himself to make the following addition to these lines:- blind thamyris, and blind mæonides, (_something like milton_). pursue the triumph and partake the gale! (_rather like pope_). drop tears as fast as the arabian trees, (_why, this_ is _shakspeare_). to point a moral, or adorn a tale. (_oh! it's dr. johnson_). to the succeeding lines the same authority had added in succession the names of gray wordsworth, campbell, and so on throughout the poem. what does he mean? does he mean to say he has ever met with any one of these lines _before?_] [footnote 3: burke.] frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter ii. time progressed, and though mrs. heartwell still laboured under unaccountable agitation and alarm, yet there was a counteracting influence that diffused itself through her frame and buoyed her up with hope. honest ben more than once or twice entered the room, and with diffidence inquired whether his mistress had any commands; he asked no intrusive questions--he made no observations--the matter was something beyond his comprehension, and it never for one moment entered into his thoughts to speculate upon causes and effects; yet desirous of affording all the comfort and consolation which suggested itself to his mind, he took especial pains in making some excellent coffee, which he carried up to the distressed lady. "you are kind and considerate, my good friend," said she whilst accepting the proffered refreshment. "i wish mr. heartwell was here to partake of it with me. surely something unusual must have happened to detain him." "no doubt on it, my lady," returned the seaman; "an ould messmate or shipmate mayhap, or an extra glass of grog or two." the lady shook her head as she mournfully replied, "no, no, those would not be inducements strong enough to keep your master away from his home." "bless you, my lady," responded the seaman earnestly, as he busied himself about the parlour; "as to the strength of the deucements, all i can say is, that they mixes 'em strong enough when they pleases--though half-and-half ought to satisfy any reasonable man. but there, what's the odds so as you're happy?" "you must prepare yourself, ben, to go to lincoln's inn, and see if your master has been detained by business," said the lady, disregarding, or perhaps not observing the poor fellow's mistake. "you know the office of mr. brady." "yes, my lady," returned the seaman; "and i'll make sail as soon as ever you pleases to give orders." "wait then a little longer," added mrs. heartwell, as she looked at the watch: "go down now, and i will ring for you presently." accustomed to implicit obedience when afloat, the seaman still adhered to it now that he was ashore; and therefore again descending to the kitchen, he awaited the expected summons. drearily and heavily the minutes passed away, and yet as the fingers of the dial moved progressively over the divisions of the hour into quarters--marking the march of time--they seemed to have flown too quickly, for they afforded additional evidence that some calamity must have befallen the individual whose continued absence had caused increasing pain. yet there the mourning watcher sat, suffering the extreme trial of human patience--waiting for those who came not. several times had the silent contemplations of mrs. heartwell been disturbed by the loud ticking and sudden stopping of a clock or watch. at first she scarcely heeded the noise, but the frequent repetition drew her attention more strongly to it, and she sought for the cause: it could not be the dial, for the vibrations of that were clear and continuous--it could not be her own watch, the sound was so different; but to satisfy herself, she wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in the table-drawer. again the ticking came; it seemed to fill every corner of the apartment, sometimes heard in one place and sometimes in another; and when mrs. heartwell fancied she had found the spot from which it emanated, it suddenly ceased, and then commenced elsewhere. she rang the bell for ben, who promptly answered, and stood within the open door. "did mr. heartwell take his timepiece with him?" inquired she. "yes, my lady," responded ben; "i saw the chain and seals hanging down as he went out at the door." "is there any strange watch or clock in the house that you know of?" demanded she again. "no, my lady, not as i knows of," replied ben, much surprised at the question, and somewhat fearful that grief had unsettled the reason of his mistress. "hark then, ben,--listen, and tell me what is that," exclaimed she energetically, as the ticking was loudly renewed. "there must be a clock somewhere to produce such sounds." ben did listen as the eyes of his mistress were intently fixed upon him, but the tar shook his head and was silent. "it must be some trick," said mrs. heartwell; "can you hear it distinctly?" "it's easy enough to hear," responded the seaman with another slow shake of his head; "and though it's some years since i heard it afore, yet there's no mistaking _that_, my lady." "what is it then?" demanded the excited woman in a tone assuming peremptory command; "what is it that produces so loud and peculiar a noise?" "bless you, my lady," returned the seaman solemnly, as he folded his arms across his breast. "them sounds are out of all natur, for the works were never made by mortal fingers--there's no living hand as winds 'em up--no human spring as sets 'em a-going--that my lady is the death-watch:" and then ben added his usual expletive, though his countenance was ruefully sad, "but what's the odds so as you're happy?" mrs. heartwell was perfectly aware that what had generally been called "the death-watch," was nothing more than a small insect, and the noise it produced was caused by striking its proboscis against hollow wood to release itself from confinement; but her nervous system was greatly relaxed and her mental energies impaired through the violent agitation she had undergone during the night. for several minutes, therefore, a superstitious dread came over her mind--it was the first time she had ever heard the supposed monitor of the shroud and coffin, and ben's impressive manner as he announced its alleged character threw an additional weight of gloom over her already oppressed spirits. but reason was not long in resuming its sway, though it could not utterly banish feelings which had been excited by such a visitation, especially acted upon as she was by previous apprehensions of some direful but unknown calamity. the tapers on the table were nearly consumed, and the re-assured lady directed ben to supply others in their places: she then walked towards the window, and unclosing one of the shutters, the bright gleams from a beautiful daylight mingling with the fading light of the newly-risen moon streamed full upon her. hallowed and tranquillising are the effects of a lovely dawn; darkness has fled before a mighty conqueror--the face of nature is again unveiled, and smiling beauty colours every feature with its rosy tints; the sorrows of the heart are for a time absorbed in the universal peace which prevails, and even the dying who cannot expect to see its close, rejoice in the opening glory of another day. the weary watcher as she looked up to the heavens felt relieved and comforted; a prayer rose spontaneously from her heart to that being who had sent light from above to cheer her in the dreariness of night; and now with humble adoration she poured forth her gratitude at being spared to witness the early beams that illumed the east, and called man forth to his daily labour. ben was again summoned--the servants were called up from their beds--mrs heartwell went to the pillow of her sleeping boy, but his repose was so calm, his rest so undisturbed, that she would not awake him; but imprinting one gentle kiss on his fair forehead, she descended to the parlour to commence active operations in search of her husband. the seaman was despatched to lincoln's inn, as the first essay, and after an absence of about an hour, he returned to report that he had waited some time at the door of mr. brady's office, till the porter had told him the office would not be open till nine o'clock, and he thought it best to come and let his mistress know. "it is fast approaching that hour," said the lady. "be quick and get your breakfast; i will go myself, and you and frank shall accompany me." "i wants no breakfast, my lady," returned the seaman. "i'm rigged and ready at once, if so be as you wishes to get under weigh"-"no,--do as i direct you "--responded the lady, firmly. "frank is not yet ready--we have had our meal whilst you were away, and you must not be deprived of yours." the tar made his bow and descended to the kitchen, where the servants were assembled, and each endeavoured to catechise ben on the events of the night; but he could tell them nothing, for he had nothing to tell, and even sally failed in drawing forth any communication from the seaman. when frank entered the parlour, he ran and kissed his mother, but looked astonished at beholding his father's vacant chair--he gazed earnestly in his mother's face, and though she strove to smile upon her boy, yet fatigue and anxiety had left too visible an impression on her countenance--with the intuitive quickness of childhood frank became instantly aware that something was wrong, and throwing his arms round his parent's neck, he burst into an agony of grief, whilst she strained him to her heart, and the tears of the mother and the child ran mingling down together. as soon as emotion had subsided, mrs. heartwell briefly informed the lad that she feared something had happened to his father, and that she was about to make inquiries after him. the returning confidence and self-command of the mother produced not only a soothing influence, but also an animated spirit of investigation in the son; the mind of the child was fresh and vigorous from a night's repose--he had cherished no harassing fears, had endured no torturing suspense, and therefore, young as he was, his courage was aroused, and he longed to set out on the search which his mother had proposed. his desire was soon gratified, and a very short time beheld mrs. heartwell and frank, followed by ben, proceeding from their residence in ormond street towards lincoln's inn. the streets were not much crowded, for the worthy citizens were at that time accustomed to reside under the same roofs with their shops and warehouses, and consequently were always on the spot ready for business. not that they are negligent in the present day, for no class of men are more punctual than our merchants and tradesmen; but the extension of commerce has compelled vast numbers to convert their dwellings into storehouses; and the city is, to a certain degree, deserted in the evening for the rural suburbs with their handsome mansions--delightful villas and cottage retreats. man has a natural love for the country--the green fields--the pure air--and the fragrance of flowers--these are the works of the creator, and our grateful admiration should be mingled with the worship which is his due. the clock had not struck nine when they passed through the spacious area of lincoln's inn fields, the trees in which had already become leafless, and gave an air of desolation to the dingy scenery. what a crowd of reflections do our inns of court give rise to--and yet how few who pass through them ever bestow one thought on the thousands who are toiling daily, and many nightly, within those walls to render perfect and secure for others the property which without the aid of the law would be unsafe! a writer in an american work has remarked, "what a happy country that would be where there were no lawyers;" but he must first people it with immaculate beings, to whom the ten commandments would become as a dead letter, and every one of the inhabitants must enjoy equality. to suppose such a thing is an absurdity--human passions and human prejudices will prevail, and it is to govern the one and guide the other--to protect the right--avenge the injured, and to punish crime--that laws were framed; and men indefatigably devoted themselves to study all their bearings that they might be carried into full effect. an honourable, useful, and manly profession is that of the lawyer; and though there are some unworthy members amongst the fraternity--(and what community is without them?)--yet, taken as a body, they bear a character of which england is justly proud. exactly at nine they reached the chambers of mr. brady, and at the same moment a tall, stout, boney man took a key from his pocket and opened the door. "mr. brady is not yet come, madam," said he, observing that mrs. heartwell was about to address him. "his business-time is half-past nine, and you will find him punctual to the moment. would you like to wait, or will you call again?" "you are, i presume, in mr. brady's service?" said the lady, as she passed within the door. "his assistant, madam--his clerk--his confidential clerk," responded the man, stiffly bowing and assuming a pompous manner. but mrs. heartwell heeded not his conduct, her mind was too much engrossed by other matters, and she earnestly remarked, "you are then acquainted with all mr. brady's employers--" "his clients, madam, i suppose you mean," interrupted the person addressed, as he bent a keen look on the interesting countenance of the lady. "oh yes--i necessarily know his clients well--" "then," returned she, "you perhaps can inform me whether mr. heartwell"--her voice became tremulous with emotion, but by a sharp struggle she mastered her feelings and repeated "whether mr. heartwell was here yesterday?" "lieutenant heartwell of the royal navy, madam, i presume," said the clerk, obsequiously bowing. "have i the honour to address his worthy lady?" "he is my husband, sir," answered the lady, proudly, for there was something in the manners of the man that excited unpleasant sensations--a smirking attempt to please that but ill accorded with his look and appearance. "was mr. heartwell here yesterday?" "most assuredly he was, madam," responded the clerk. "i hope nothing unpleasant has occurred." "confound the lubber, he seems to know it," mumbled ben, whose keen gaze had been fixed upon the man. "i wish my lady ud let me ax him a bit of his catechiz." "at what hour did mr. heartwell quit this office?" inquired the agitated woman. "at what hour, madam?" repeated the clerk, casting his eyes up to a clock that hung, or rather stood, in the corner; "why really i cannot call to recollection the precise hour--i was so busily engaged upon the will of mr. checkwell, the rich banker, who was not expected to live many hours--indeed he died this morning, and if that last testament had not been made out as quick as it was, so as to enable him to sign it, all his property would have gone amongst his poor relations--but now he has bequeathed it to a favorite niece"--and the man smiled--"he will be a fortunate fellow who wins her favour--two hundred thousand pounds and--" "oh, what's the odds so as you're happy?" exclaimed ben, peevishly interrupting him. "jist tell my lady when the leftenant hauled his wind out of this." "hauled his wind out of this?" reiterated the clerk, giving the worthy tar a sidelong glance of contempt. "speak english, my friend." ben was about to reply in no very gentle terms, but his mistress raised her hand, and the tar was silent. she then turned to the clerk. "i have put a plain and simple question to you, sir; will you oblige me with an answer?" "why really, madam, i beg pardon--but the question has escaped my memory," responded the man, as if desirous of gaining time. "i asked you at what hour mr. heartwell quitted this place," repeated the lady, her heart swelling almost to bursting. "oh--ay--i trust you will excuse me. i remember now," answered the clerk, as he retired to his desk; "but the will, madam, the will of mr. checkwell occupied my whole attention. yet let me see: it must have been eight o'clock. no, it was later than that; but mr. brady can inform you most correctly, i have no doubt: he will be here in a few minutes. will you walk in, and the young gentleman with you?" and, rising, he opened the door to an inner room. "there are chairs: as for my friend here, he will perhaps remain in the outer office." mrs. heartwell entered a spacious apartment, the windows admitting an unobstructed light, which was thrown upon a large oblong table, bearing innumerable packages of letters and documents tied up with red tape or green ribbon, according to the rank of the client. the walls of the room were nearly concealed behind law-books and japanned boxes with painted initials on their fronts--though some bore in full the names of highly respectable firms and companies, and one or two displayed the titles of noblemen. on the floor were pieces of carpet resembling ancient tapestry, and there were three chairs of dark oak, the seats cased with leather, the original colour of which it was impossible to detect. the lady, with her son by her side, retired into a part of the apartment that was somewhat obscured by shade; and here, as she sate awaiting the coming of the individual on whose knowledge seemed to rest her future happiness or misery, her thoughts reverted to the previous evening when her husband was in that very same apartment; and as there were two chairs placed at a part of the table that was cleared from papers, she conjectured that one had been occupied by the lieutenant; and small as the matter might seem in the estimation of others, she would have given much to have known which of the two it was. then arose other contemplations: one of the chairs was doubtless for the clients--the other, at a more respectful distance, for the suppliants who came to entreat for delay against the execution of the law, or to appeal for the extension of mercy from his creditor. oh! how many sorrowing spirits grieving over blighted hopes and desolated prospects--how many breaking hearts, crushed beneath the torturing pressure of affliction that verged upon despair--how many upbraiding consciences, filled with remorse at past deeds of shame or extravagance--had been there! parents, who had reduced their offspring from affluence to poverty, through crime or indiscretion--husbands that had wasted their substance, and brought their wives to want--ruined merchants and tradesmen who had borne a good name in the world, but, surrounded by difficulties which they could not master, were compelled to have their names announced in the gazette. what a wide field for reflection was there! at length mr. brady arrived; and, after a short consultation with his clerk, the door of his room opened, and mrs. heartwell beheld a gentlemanly-looking man of about thirty years of age, whose firm-set frame gave evidence of strong muscular powers. his limbs were large, but yet in just proportion to the rest of his body; and a handsomely formed pair of legs were well displayed in tight black silk stockings. his features were of a repulsive cast: a round, bullet-head, with high cheek-bones and protruding bushy eyebrows that frowned above a pair of large but piercing black eyes, which, like the rattlesnake's, had something of fascination in them. there is a world of language in the human eye that carries with it its own translation; and when mrs. heartwell saw the bright orbs of the lawyer as he looked round the room, a strange thrill came over her bosom--an indefinable sensation that sickened her very heart: she had never, to her recollection, seen mr. brady before that moment; yet the piercing keenness of his eyes was vividly pictured on her memory--they were familiar to the mind as having at some former period occasioned much distress, but where or when, or with what connexion, baffled remembrance was utterly at fault. the lady tremblingly arose as the lawyer approached; but her agitation was considerably diminished when a voice, soft and gentle, and sweetly harmonious, requested her "to be seated," and she again resumed the chair; whilst frank, overawed by the presence of mr. brady, took up a position nearly behind his mother so as scarcely to be seen, though he commanded a perfect view of all that was going on. the lawyer retired to the corner of the table, against which he reclined with his left hand resting on the corner; he raised his right to his chin, and fixing his eyes on the distressed lady, seemed to devote himself to mute attention. mrs. heartwell told her name and related the cause of her visit, which drew forth no remark nor a single token that she was heard, till the narrative was ended, and even then he continued for a minute or two in deep and unmoved silence. at length he uttered in accents of soothing kindness-"i trust, my dear lady, that you will not distress yourself unnecessarily. affairs may not be so bad as you anticipate; and yet--" he paused for a moment, and then inquired, "had mr. heartwell no friends in your neighbourhood on whom he could call in his way home?" "we have but few acquaintances, sir, and but fewer friends," returned the lady mournfully; "besides, i am certain that my husband would not have willingly remained away from home all night." "was mr. heartwell at all addicted--you will excuse my putting so plain a question, nothing but the urgency of the occasion would compel me--but was mr. heartwell at all addicted to drinking,--i mean so as to become inebriated?" inquired the lawyer. "no, sir, never--never," said the lady firmly; "a better husband, a kinder father, a more sober man never existed--and these very qualities do but increase my fears for his safety." "i am gratified to hear it," responded the lawyer. "mr. heartwell transacted business with me yesterday to a very large extent; we had some wine together, and what with his good fortune and the generous liquor, i must own he was somewhat elevated when we parted." mrs. heartwell paused for a moment or two before she responded. the affection she had always cherished for her husband had produced unbounded confidence in all his actions: she knew that sailors were fond of the social glass, but she had never seen him indulge to excess, nor witnessed anything that could induce her to suppose that he had done so; and the thought that mr. brady implied, that he was drunk, went with thrilling anguish to her very soul, for it wounded her pride whilst it increased her fears. "oh, do not say so, sir," said she; "do not say he was intoxicated; indeed he was ever too guarded to yield to intemperance." [illustration: _mrs. heartwell and frank's first interview with mr. brady._ london, tilt & bogue, fleet street] "you are labouring under error, my dear lady," said the lawyer mildly; "i did not say that he was intoxicated, but merely elevated--a single glass of wine when joy is overpowering the heart will oftentimes produce the semblance of inebriety. i know you are not aware of the whole fact, for he mentioned his intention to surprise you, and great was his gratification at the thoughts of it--the property of his uncle exceeded his expectations--the whole was converted into gold, and notes, and securities, to the amount of many thousand pounds; he received it in this office from an agent of the bank, and at nine o'clock last night, both himself and the bags were deposited in a hackney-coach--the number of which, i dare say, can be ascertained--though, probably, my clerk, who is very particular in all matters of business, may recollect it--and the coachman was ordered to drive to ormond street." the lawyer touched a bell, and the clerk entered. "pray, mr. shipkins, do you remember the number of the coach in which mr. heartwell left here last night?" "four hundred and seventy-five," replied the clerk; "coachman, red face, carbuncle nose--small eyes--drab box-coat, with seven capes; each cape bound with scarlet,--he held the light whilst we put in the bags." the superior nodded, and the clerk withdrew. "thus far then, my dear lady, it will not be difficult to trace your husband's progress; but it is necessary that we should claim the assistance of a magistrate." whilst these explanations were going on, mrs. heartwell felt almost crushed beneath the weight of perplexity that appeared to accumulate at every step. the mention of many thousand pounds as being in the possession of her husband had conjured up fearful visions; but when, in addition to this, she found that he was sent away in a coach alone, and that too in at least a state of elevation, her mind was wrought up to a pitch of indescribable anguish; she sprang from her chair, and wildly exclaimed, "it is but too plain, sir--it is but too plain! you send him in a coach with large sums of money. when he left me he mentioned his intention to surprise me--he would have returned--delightedly returned; but he has never been home--oh my god, sustain me--he is dead--he is murdered!" and sinking back into her chair, she buried her face in her handkerchief, and sobbed hysterically, whilst little frank clung to his mother, and fixing his tearful eyes upon mr. brady, who he supposed had caused her distress, he observed a twitching spasm convulse the lawyer's face, and a peculiar cast in one of his eyes, which had so fierce an expression as to terrify the lad, and which from that moment was never forgotten. the whole did but occupy a passing instant--the lawyer's face resumed its usual expression as he uttered, "no, no, no; do not think that, my dear lady--do not give way to so horrid a thought. but come, no time should be lost." he started from the table and put on his hat. "we will walk to the nearest coach-stand, and proceed to bow street." in accordance with this proposition they left the office; and ben was despatched back to ormond street for the purpose of ascertaining whether anything had transpired during their absence, and with instructions to join his mistress with all expedition at bow street. the mother and son, with mr. brady, hastened to lincoln's inn fields, where they found the very coach 475, in which the clerk had stated that the lieutenant had quitted the office the night before. the quick eye of frank was the first to detect this; and he directly pointed it out to his mother, who at the first glance saw that the coachman perfectly answered the description given by shipkins; and she would have instantly questioned him but for the request of mr. brady, who cautioned her to take no notice lest it might excite his suspicion. he called him off the stand to receive a fare. "to bow street police office," said the lawyer, as the coachman stood waiting for orders; and the door was closed, the box mounted, and off he drove. but who can describe the sensations of the agitated wife as she entered and took her seat in the very vehicle in which it was alleged that her husband had been conveyed from the office of the lawyer! her whole frame trembled and her heart grew sick. mr. brady was not idle--he examined every nook and corner of the interior of the carriage in which the lady assisted him, and every spot on the padded cushions raised a horrible terror in her breast as she fancied that it might be blood; but they discovered nothing that could in the slightest degree elucidate the matter. on reaching their destination, the coachman was directed to wait for the purpose of conveying them back again. the doors of the office were thronged with a miscellaneous assemblage of characters, principally of the lower classes; but there were also many well-dressed persons in the crowd, for the notorious pickpocket george waldron, or, as he named himself, george barrington, had that morning been brought up for examination, charged with stealing a purse of money and a gold watch from the person of a gentleman in drury lane theatre, and numbers of curious individuals of all ranks were desirous of beholding a man who by education and manners was the finished gentleman, but in habit a confirmed thief. through this crowd the lawyer and his party pushed their way into the outer office; and what a scene was presented there!--squalid poverty in rags--maudlin sensibility awaking from intoxication, and feverish from the night's debauch--the bucks of fashion, as the dandies of that day were called, still labouring under the influence of liquor, and detained to answer for a midnight spree--the detected pickpocket glorying in the mechanism of his profession, and only ashamed that he should have practised the art so clumsily as to be caught: these and numerous others occupied distinct portions to themselves--attended by the various peace-officers and watchmen, who hoped to profit, and largely too, by their earnest zeal in protecting his majesty's liege subjects from let, hindrance, and molestation. the first object of mr. brady was to detain the coachman; and on applying to one of the superiors, an officer was promptly set to watch his movements, with orders to take him into custody should he attempt to drive away. but the jarvey did not manifest the slightest intention to depart, for he sat apparently contented on his seat eyeing the different groups, and perhaps moralising on the instability of human affairs--for men of sedentary habits are generally found to be moralists, however humble their pretensions. the urgency of mrs. heartwell's case procured an immediate admission to the office where the magistrates were sitting; but as they were at that moment busily engaged, the party was requested to stand aside till the hearing was disposed of. at the bar was a tall man of very genteel appearance, whose habit and demeanour might readily have introduced him to society as a highly respectable clergyman. he appeared to be about thirty years of age; his countenance was sedate and indicative of benevolence; but there was at the same time an arch look in his small sharp eyes that evidenced pleasantry and wit. his hair was frizzed out and powdered according to the fashion of the times, and a queue with a plentiful expenditure of black silk hung down behind. his left hand was raised to his face, and displayed amazingly long fingers ornamented with rings, and he bowed occasionally in the most graceful manner to mr. bond, the sitting magistrate, when he had to reply to questions that were put to him. at the entrance of mrs. heartwell, he had turned and cast a rapid but sharp glance at the lady; and for the moment his dark sallow complexion assumed a more sickly hue; but finding that she was a stranger, he politely inclined his head, and resumed his position. this was barrington, the notorious pickpocket; and near him stood, in remarkable contrast, a smart well-made dapper little man, sprucely dressed, with silver buckles in his shoes, both of which were brightly polished; his head combed smooth and straight, so that not a hair was misplaced or out of order, but with a "natty curl" on each side--much in the same way as in after years the friseur was accustomed to ornament his brown wig;--his eyes were keen and hawk-like; and diminutive as he was, there was a something in his manner which strongly marked him as a man not to be trifled with. this was the afterwards celebrated townsend. on the bench with the magistrates, were two or three noblemen and gentlemen in high life, who had been summoned to give evidence; and amongst them was the well-known major hanger and general st. john, who deposed to "the previous capture of the pickpocket at the theatre, his being taken to the lobby and searched, and the purse and watch found upon him." "pardon me, general," said the prisoner, respectfully bowing; "your memory has not served you correctly--neither purse nor watch was found upon my person, for this very simple but convincing reason--they had never been there." "i remember now," resumed the general; "they were not found upon your person, but upon the floor close to where you were taken into custody." "and i saw you drop them," exclaimed major hanger, hastily interrupting the witness. barrington bowed his head in the most bland manner, and gracefully waving his hand, uttered with much seeming good-humour, "one at a time, gentlemen, if you please--it is neither fair nor honourable to try and crush a man whom misfortune loves to sport with." it is not necessary to go through the whole of the examination, which proved that from the theatre, barrington had been conveyed to the brown bear in bow street, where he contrived to escape from the charge of the constable, and since then had been levying contributions in different parts of the country, assuming a variety of characters as best suited his purpose. he was subsequently detected in a northern town, mingling in the first circles, and dexterously carrying on his depredations; from thence he was conveyed to the metropolis. the charge was considered sufficiently proven to commit; and this "king of thieves" was removed from the bar without evincing outwardly the slightest want of self-command. as soon as he was gone, and the buzz arising from the conversation of the noblemen and gentlemen had subsided by their taking their departure, the next case was about to be called, when mr. brady earnestly solicited the private hearing of the magistrates for a few minutes, on a charge of some magnitude, involving, as it was supposed, the life and property of an officer in his majesty's navy. this was not spoken aloud, but only within the hearing of a few of the officers, and the request was promptly granted; mr. bond passed into a private room, where mr. brady having stated the case, mrs. heartwell was called in to give her deposition, which narrated every circumstance relative to the lieutenant's quitting his home the afternoon before, and promising "to be back early, and that he would then communicate something that would delight and astonish them." the lawyer and the magistrate looked earnestly at each other, for the former had mentioned that the circumstance of the officer having to receive considerable property had been concealed from the wife. "were you not at all acquainted with the object to which your husband alluded?" inquired mr. bond. "not to its full extent, sir," replied the lady; "i knew that he had business to transact with mr. brady, but was not informed of its purport, though i supposed it was in some measure connected with the decease of an uncle in the east indies." "my client," remarked the lawyer, "mentioned that his wife was not cognisant of the transactions between us; and he expressed great delight at the idea of communicating to her the intelligence that he was now able to raise his family to affluence." "i must beg of you to compose yourself as much as possible, madam," said mr. bond with kindness; "the affair is certainly mysterious, but my best assistance shall be given." the magistrate then went on with the examination, and ben having in the mean time arrived, made his statement, corroborating that of his mistress--the lawyer also gave his testimony, and ultimately, the coachman was brought forward. his deposition went in substance to state, that "his name was gervase simpson, and on the night before, he had been hired off the stand in the 'fields' shortly before nine o'clock, to take up a fare in lincoln's inn--that he went, and a middle-aged man brought out a light, which he held, whilst four or five small, but apparently heavy bags were put into the vehicle; the light was then taken away, and a navy officer came out with another gentleman; the former getting into the coach, and the latter bidding the navy officer 'good night,' told the deponent to drive to ormond street, and then he believed went in again. that he accordingly drove to ormond street, and felt the check-string pulled; he drew up, dismounted, and opened the door--the navy officer alighted, and having removed the bags, paid him his fare, and went down the street; but deponent took no further notice of his proceedings, remounted his box, and drove to the stand in charles street, covent garden. he then got another fare to the borough, and afterwards went home to the stables at newington." "all this, if true, can easily be traced," said the magistrate; "it certainly is extremely mysterious--and the lieutenant did not go to his residence, nor has he been seen since? was he a man of sober habits and reputable character?" "most unexceptionable in both," replied the lawyer; "it is true that he had taken a glass or two of wine, but he was perfectly master of his actions--though i cannot altogether account for his leaving the coach where he did." "pray," said the magistrate, addressing the coachman, "had you sufficient light or opportunity to observe the person of the officer?" "vy not exactly, your vurship," answered jehu; "it vas wery dark in linkun's inn, and them lamps arn't much good, only to blind people; but i saw the glittering of his buttons and his hanger, and could jist make out he vas a tall man; but he vhipped in in sich a hurry, that i hadn't much time to notice; nor did i think of anything of this here kind happening, for as long as i'm civil and gets my full fare, your vurship, i seldom troubles myself about other consarns." "but in ormond street," urged the magistrate, "there you possibly had better light and more time--what took place there?" "vell, your vurship, i've tould you all as i knows," responded the witness. "the lamps in ormond street arn't never no better nor the rest in regard of lighting--they're pretty much like an ould watchman's eye. i seed as he was an officer of the navy, but arter he tipped the fare, and there was somut handsome over and above the reglar, i was too busy reckoning my money to take much notice--he went off with the bags, some on 'em he had got tied up in a handkercher; but what he had in em' i never guv a moment's thought to." "was the officer sober?" inquired the magistrate. "vell, your vurship, it arn't ezactly clear vot sobriety is," answered the coachman; "he might or he might not, for i took no perticklar notice, only he seemed to valk avay steady enough. he guv me five shillings; i said 'thanky, yer honor,' and he says 'good night,' and that vos all." "should you know the gentleman again?" asked the lawyer, bending his keen gaze upon the man. "vy, yes, i think i should, if i vos to see him as i did last night," responded the coachman; "but daylight alters people's looks, and i shouldn't like to svear." after other questions of no very material consequence, the magistrate decided that "the affair should be put into the hands of an experienced officer, who should thoroughly investigate the whole, and he would be ready to attend to any information as soon as it was obtained; but if no further light was thrown upon the transaction, and the lieutenant still remained absent, then he must request mr. brady to be in attendance at eleven o'clock the following morning, accompanied by his clerk, the bank agent, and all the evidence he could procure." in the mean time he recommended that intelligence should be given at the other offices, and diligent inquiry made at the hospitals; though in the first instance it would be best to commence the investigation in the neighbourhood of ormond street. mr. brady promised strict attention, and the parties withdrew. [illustration] love has legs. strolling about from bower to hall, love paid lavinia a morning call. an hour soon went--she chatted and sang- he staid--till at last the dinner-bell rang. he staid, still charm'd; and rather alarm'd, lavinia felt she must ask him to stay. "to tell you the truth," cried the radiant youth, "i'm here for life, i shall ne'er go away." love's fire shot through her in one wild flush, till her heart itself might be seen to blush; love saw, and finding it faithful and kind, exclaim'd, "o beauty, how long i've been blind!" more grateful grew he, more fervent she, more watchful, sensitive, warm, and fond; so much like light was he to her sight, she could not trust him a step beyond. still more she cherish'd him year by year, till at last each joy came tinged with fear; she fear'd, if he stroll'd where wild flowers meet, lest thorns might pierce his delicate feet; or a reptile's sting beneath his wing she fear'd, if he lay in the greenwood asleep; or walk'd he awake by the moonlit lake- in dread of an ague, how would she weep! she chatted and sang to love no more, lest music and chat should prove "a bore;" but she hung on his steps wherever he went, and shut from the chamber the rose's scent. she slept not a wink, for fear he should think she dream'd not of love--so her eyes grew dim; she took no care of her beautiful hair, for she could not spare one moment from him. love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt, yet home was a desert if love went out; in vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs; "o love," cried the lady, "i've given you eyes! and ah! should some face of a livelier grace than mine ever meet them! ah! _should_ you stray!" love, wearied at last, was in slumber lock'd fast;- "those wings!" said the watcher, "he _might_ fly away." one awful moment! oh! could she sever those wings from love, he is hers for ever! with trembling hand she gathers the wings- she clips--they are off! and up love springs. "adieu!" he cried, as he leapt from her side, "of folly's cup you have drunk the dregs; my home was here; it is now with the deer; thank venus, though wingless, _love has legs!_" l. b. bernard cavanagh, the irish cameleon. bernard cavanagh is the name of a person who is now raising considerable sums of money in dublin by professing to work miracles--the greatest of them all consisting in his ability to live without any food whatever--which he is now said to have done for several months. crowds flock to him to be cured of their lameness, deafness, &c.--_irish papers._ marvellous erin! when st. patrick's feat thy hills, vales, plains, and bogs from reptiles freed, he little dream'd what monsters would succeed; sinners who drink not, saints who never eat! and is there one, in whom the piece of meat which paris raves about, no care can breed! one who can never know a time of need, though corn be trampled by the tempest's feet! poor fellow! what enjoyment he foregoes! nothing but air, a scrap of summer cloud, fog with the chill off, is to him allow'd; a fine thick mist, or rainbow when it shows; but ah! for him no kitchen's steam up-flows; no knives, forks, spoons, or plates, a pilèd crowd, no dishes, glasses, salts, make music loud! sad sinecurists all--mouth, ears, and nose! the ass on the ladder. "for lowliness is young ambition's ladder."--_julius cæsar._ at the end of the second volume of a hebrew ms of the bible, written on beautiful vellum, is the following passage, in fine large hebrew characters:--"i, meyer, the son of rabbi jacob, the scribe, have finished this book for rabbi abraham, the son of rabbi nathan, the 5052nd year (a.d. 1292); and he has bequeathed it to his children and his children's children for ever. amen. amen. amen. selah. be strong and strengthened. may this book not be damaged, neither this day nor for ever, until the ass ascends the ladder." after which the accompanying rude figure is drawn.--_pettigrew's bibliotheca sussexiana_, part i. vol. i. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] it would appear from the curious sentence copied above, that no longer ago than five centuries and a half, the feat which is pictured to the spectator in a fac-simile of the original drawing was regarded as an event of extremely improbable occurrence. the inference indeed may be, that it was deemed an impossibility. the prayer of the inscription is, "may this book be undamaged for ever."--may it be preserved "until the ass ascends the ladder!" "till birnam wood shall come to dunsinane," is the unlikely occurrence which the weird sisters specify as the omen of macbeth's fall; and "that will never be!" is the cry of the confident thane. in modern days we wish a man "good luck till he's tired of it;" or "prosperity till the sky falls." the despairing and lovelorn damsel in the ditty sings- "when fishes fly, and swallows dive, young men they will prove true." and one of the same ballad-family sets out with the affecting declaration, that- "when gooseberries grow on the stem of a daisy," the singer's passion will be no more. these, and a thousand examples of the "not till then," are but versions of the hebrew assumption of impossibility, expressed in the grotesque fancy of "the ass on the ladder." but it is clear that meyer the son of rabbi jacob was not in moorfields last year; it is certain that abraham, the son of rabbi nathan, little dreamed of what would be doing at pimlico in the nineteenth century; for whether at mayfair or at bethnal green, at wapping or at islington, one or both must have seen the impossibility realised, in the elevation of the donkey, before the upturned wondering eyes of a crowd of lingering mortals in the public thoroughfares. lest there should be some who never saw the modern street-mountebank, going forth like leporello with his ladder, and like sancho with his donkey, we must describe his performance. his greatest feat consisted in balancing upon his chin a ladder with an ass on it. all other tricks performed, and all eyes and mouths opened, curiosity on tiptoe and incredulity on the stretch, forth came the wooden machine, and with legs twisted through the staves, up went the animal. "who," exclaims the minstrel, "ah who can tell how hard it is to climb!" but what poet ever found a steep so difficult as that _gradus ad parnassum_ to the seemingly dislocated donkey? to the topmast round, you would see him clinging like shakspeare's giddy sea-boy on the mast; and surveying the mountebank who had taught him to be such an astonishing ass, with a look that seemed to say, "you're another!" then would his master send round the hat upon its last and greatest voyage of discovery; then would the halfpence therein be rattled harmlessly in the vacant faces of boys with vacant pockets, and then would the irresistible appeal be heard, "come, good gen'lemen, be liberal, be liberal--tuppence more, and up goes the donkey." then bending up each corporal agent for the terrible feat, up indeed would go the ladder, donkey and all; high up in air, until its lowest stave rested fairly and firmly on the protruded chin of the mountebank, where it stood poised, fixed, moveless--the astonishing type, or rather the exact model, of the balance of power in europe. the amazement now should be transferred from the balanced to the balancer; for what is the difficulty of such a _gradus ad parnassum_ to the ass, compared with the sore trial of the man below, who has made the bridge of his nose a _pons asinorum_! but in rivalship with the donkey, the human being shrinks into insignificance; the grotesque patience of the brute beats the strength and dexterity of the man hollow; the gazers are all wrapped in ecstasy to see how the ass hangs on, not how the cunning mountebank balances him. the sympathies of the crowd, men and boys, are triumphantly borne off by the four-legged performer, and every one of them goes away more convinced of the uncommon cleverness of the ass, and consequently on better terms with himself. but the obstinacy of the long-eared animal is proverbial; and in nothing is it more strikingly exhibited than in the fact that he _will_ eat if he can. so was it before the days of æsop's ass, that cropped a thistle and was torn in pieces for confessing it; and so has it been before and since the hour when sterne's ass consumed the macaroon which curiosity and not charity presented to him. it is possibly this expensive habit that has led the mountebank, of late, to cast off the donkey, and to substitute a boy for him, in the feat of the ladder. the performance to this hour is the same, with that exception--a two-legged juvenile for a four. perhaps the mountebank was jealous of the ass! can we assume that, in the nature of a mountebank balancing on his chin a ladder surmounted by a long-eared brute, there is no room for vanity? can we imagine a donkey-balancer incapable of feeling annoyed, when he sees his subordinate--the agent through whom his own abilities are to be demonstrated--creating peals of laughter by doing nothing, trotting off with the spoils he did not win, and cropping every thistle of fame that belongs to another? there is no mind too shallow for vanity to take root in, no talent too small for it to twine itself round, no competitor too contemptible to pique and wound it. "why, edmund kean couldn't get a hand of applause, with such a noisy brute as that in the piece!" said an actor in the drama of the _dog of montargis_, when the quadruped was howling over the murdered body of his master, and breaking the hearts of the audience. [illustration] at all events the boy _has_ taken the ass's place on the ladder. the change may have arisen out of that tenderness for the brute creation which is too amiable a feeling--when in excess--to pass unadmired. there is a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals; and to risk a donkey's life on a ladder, for the sport of a heedless crowd, might be dangerous to the mountebank. in _this_ age, society at large knows what is due to donkeys; we can all enter into their feelings. but as there is no law, and no moral principle, against the elevation of a human urchin, even to the top stave of the ladder, there is no reason why the sport should not continue. philosophers will explain to you, that a boy is a free agent, and has a right to be balanced on a human chin, if he likes; but a donkey has no will of his own at all--_except_--except when you've hired him for an hour, at ramsgate, and are endeavouring to persuade yourself that you're trotting him out of the town. the last boy we saw balanced was worthy of the chin that sustained him. the mountebank to be sure was a miracle, and could have balanced anything. if the books of the bank of england were to get into disorder, every sum confused, and every figure out of its place--he could balance them. but the boy was at least two miracles rolled into one--a more than siamese prodigy--a boy, and yet an ass too. he looked more like one than the reality, his predecessor. he evidently felt the past importance of his elevation, high above his compeers. he seemed quite conscious that every inhabitant, not of _that_ simply, but of the _next_ parish, was gazing at him in profound amazement. he turned no glance, whether of contempt or benignant pity, on the open eyes and mouths around, but looked unutterable things at the knocker of a door opposite. "so stands the statue that enchants the world!" this, however, was only at the commencement of the performance, while the spectators were being coaxed to contribute, and while several among them, not knowing exactly what they were doing, were giving a half-penny. but when the ladder was deliberately hoisted up, and fixed on the chin, then came the utter hopelessness of presenting a true resemblance of the ass's face--the boy's we mean;--of the conscious pride in its own blankness, of its self-complacency, tinged with a slight touch of fear, amounting only to a pleasurable excitement! he was a boy picked out of the crowd around,--yet he was matchless. you saw at once that he was not _employed_ by the mountebank--that he was not _paid_ for being balanced. there was something in his look that distinguished him at a glance from the hired professor. it might be supposed that, the boy not being hired, there would be a little difficulty in procuring a substitute for the ass: not so; only blow a trumpet or beat a drum in the street, and you are surrounded in less than no time with able and willing volunteers. this boy entered into the soul of the ass's part; he did not hug, and hang on the ladder mechanically, or like one who had done the same thing a dozen times before, that very day. there was the freshness of the young aspiration, the delicious novelty of the first grand step in life--in the attempt. it was young ambition (as brutus says) just mounting his ladder. he was animated by the glorious intoxication of getting up in the world. he looked direct forward; not at, but through, the brick wall opposite, into futurity. if one of his schoolfellows had called out, "master's a coming;" or, "here's your father with the cartwhip;" or, "bill, i'm blessed if here arn't the woman what we stole the apples on;"--no, even these notes of alarm would have failed to disturb his equanimity--or his equilibrium. "have a slice o' cold pudden, bill?" might have communicated perhaps to some part of his frame a momentary touch of human weakness--we can't say positively--boys are but men;--but nothing short of such an appeal to the weak side of his nature could have disturbed his rapt and lofty musings. since the days of the hebrew with which we set out, when the ass on the ladder was but a fiction, history has recorded the doings--we had almost said the sayings--of scores of wonderful quadrupeds. we have had gifted horses, who should have been elected f.r.s.'s; learned pigs, who should have been chosen ll.d.'s; humane dogs, who merit statues like howard's; and industrious fleas, who do the work of hot water in putting lobsters to the blush. but such an ass as the lad on the ladder eye never beheld but that once. his face spread before our curious and inquiring gaze, like a map of the world, and we traced in recollection an infinite variety of character. what it more immediately suggested was the expression in the face of a successful candidate at the moment of "chairing," elevated in some fantastic car, surrounded with banners bearing patriotic mottoes and devices, and accompanied by roaring raggamuffins. it also conjured up a vision of a youthful aspirant, fresh from the office or the shop, strutting in richard, or fretting in hamlet, before eight long sixes, and a full bench of aunts, in a private theatre. the ass on the ladder brings to memory a thousand other spectacles. when we behold an orator (to listen is impossible) flourishing his arms on the hustings, and ever and anon placing his hand upon his crimson waistcoat, or declaiming for an hour together before a private company to the exclusion of conversation, in full force of lungs, but in virtue of no mental superiority, we are forcibly reminded of the ass on the ladder. when we see a sprig of fashion, who only obtained his nobility yesterday, and whose worth, if put up to auction, would be dear at the price of a mushroom, insolently claiming precedence of the untitled bearer of an ancient and honourable name; or when we observe the high-born, starched up to the eyes, sneering at humble birth, however associated with merit, and cutting modest respectability for a parvenu; in these cases we cannot help thinking of the ass on the ladder. when we see a vulgar jack, in virtue of his office raised to the rank of gentleman, treating a poor suitor, who asks for his own, as if he were a beggar asking alms; or a sleek-headed, rosy-gilled idiot, who lives only in his own breeches-pocket, pretending to patronise talent because he doles out, for its exercise, what scarcely keeps its possessor from starving, we are very apt to call to recollection the ass on the ladder. when a connoisseur, influential by position, sits down to decide, in just ten minutes, upon the merits of a work of art or science, which has cost the producer years of anxious study and ceaseless labour; or when a military despot lives but to harass, irritate, and torture the sensitive and honourable minds of those ill-fated officers, who, superior perhaps in everything else, happen to be below him in rank and fortune,--we immediately recur for a parallel to the ass on the ladder. when we see a millionnaire, who has crawled along the road to riches until he can't stand upright, grasping with usurious hands at the little still retained by those who helped him to rise; or when a sudden puff of fortune has blown an adventurer into power and affluence, and we see him so giddy that he doesn't know his own poor relations, and actually can't recognise in broad daylight the struggling friend who lent him five pounds three months before,--then, and under all similar circumstances, we are sure to think of the ass on the ladder. when we behold a gentleman turning jockey or stage-coachman, quitting the legislature for the stable or the cockpit, winking at the worst vices until he becomes himself tainted, and devoting his time and money to the destruction of his own health and the demoralisation of his hangers-on; or when we see a barrister, bullying with conscious impunity a trembling, blushing, inexperienced witness (perhaps a woman) until common sense becomes confused, truth begins to contradict herself, and honesty steps out of the witness-box, looking very much like a rogue,--why, who can fail to associate with spectacles like these, the ass on the ladder? but it is not merely in the army and on the stage, at the bar and in literature, in the walks of commerce and in the world of fashion, that we daily detect some living prototype of the long-eared animal in the ascendant. if public meetings exhibit them, public schools do so no less abundantly. there is a great deal of ladder-climbing going on at the universities; and not a proctor in the precincts of learning but could tell many tales of asinine ambition. who more irresistibly calls to mind the ass on the ladder than the noble knocker-wrencher, or the gentlemanly bell-destroyer, when brought up--many staves up the ladder now--before a magistrate, and indulgently allowed to take his choice--a fine of forty shillings, _or_ a month at the treadwheel? when the noble and gentlemanly sport extends to the pummelling of police-officers, only stopping within an ace of manslaughter, then the animal may be said to have reached the topmost stave--an elevation where every kick with which he indulges himself in his playful humour adds incalculably to his own imminent danger. the higher the ascent, the greater the ass. we have seen many instances, more melancholy than ludicrous, of asses falling from the very top. for ourselves, we must candidly confess to a painful consciousness of having been--occasionally, and for not many days together--yet of having been, ere now, beyond all mistake, upon the ladder adverted to. nay, emboldened by the virtuous frankness of this self-criminating admission, we even venture to put it to our (male) readers, whether they cannot recollect having had their own feet, at some time of their lives, on the first round of the ladder; whether they do not feel sensible of having placed just one foot on that lowest step of the ascent--one only--for we would not dare to insinuate that they ever got farther, lest they should turn upon us with the mortifying, and perhaps not altogether mistaken discovery, that we ourselves, even in this moment of moralising, have reached the top of it! omnibus chat. the "omnibus" had hardly started off, on the first of the month, from the door of messrs. tilt and bogue, and taken a westerly direction up fleet street, commencing without the loss of an hour its monthly tour in search of the picturesque, when it was stopped for the purpose of taking in a passenger. this was at the corner of bolt court, out of which classical and celebrated avenue tumbled rather than walked a gentleman stout and elderly, with a bluff good-humoured countenance, all the pleasanter for an air of sternness which was evidently affectation. having got in, he seated himself immediately opposite to us, that is to say, at the left-hand corner of the vehicle next the door, and at once began, as though he had been the ghost of dr. johnson, and possessed the unquestionable right in that neighbourhood to take the lead in conversation. "sir," he said, "you have made a fair start, but a start is not a journey. now there's a fact for you--and it's a fact which the producers of number-ones are deplorably prone to forget. with me, sir, first numbers go for nothing. some people will tell you that your no. 1. is _a proof as far as it goes_ of what you mean to do in this new vehicle of yours. sir, some people are very fond of a 'proof as far as it goes.' but how far does it go? if you see a man in a black coat to-day, and you meet the same man in a blue coat to-morrow, it's 'a proof as far as it goes,' that he is the possessor of three hundred and sixty-five coats, or one for every day in the year. but still, sir, you have made a fair start. let me warn you against stoppages; never stop but when you have to take up or set down. don't overload your vehicle. no racing, but go quietly. all of which means, don't cut knotted oaks with razors, and when you have a 'wee crimson-tipped flower' to paint, don't make a great red flare of it. above all, sir, never follow advice, however excellent, when it is offered to you in a long speech; for the man who would presume to take up two minutes and a half of your valuable time at one sitting, deserves to be put into a mile-end omnibus by mistake, when he's bound for turnham green direct." we had scarcely time to thank our gruff but good-humoured adviser--whom we at once set down for a chip of that respectable old block, the public in general, and identified as a specimen of middle-aged people in town and country--we had barely time to assure him that his last important suggestion at all events should be especially remembered, when a voice burst forth from the further end of the vehicle, where in the dim light the speaker was only just visible. he was a very young man, evidently of the last new school, and in a tone of jocular familiarity he called out, "i wish that gentleman from bolt court would explain the phenomenon of a new work being started with a preface so totally unlike the prefaces of all new works published during the last half-century, which invariably begin with 'dr. johnson has observed.'" the elderly passenger appealed to, frowned; but in less than a minute the frown gave way to a smile, and without further noticing the challenge, he said, "dr. johnson is not responsible for a ten-thousandth part of what during the last half-century has been observed in his name. his mimics are calumniators, and they have distorted his sentiments as remorselessly as they have disfigured his style. since subjects of caricature are not prescribed in the present company, i may safely put it to the vote whether any exaggeration is more gross than that which commonly passes in the world for exact imitation. there are people who can trace resemblances in the most opposite and unlikely forms. old ladies, stirring the fire, and tumbling the bright cinders into new combinations, will often hit upon a favourite coal and cry, 'well, i declare if that isn't like mrs. jenkinson.' and no doubt the resemblance is quite as perfect as that between the ridiculed manner of johnson, and the rumblings of his sneering mimics. he, with a full measure of language but not an overflow, with nice inflexions, a studied balance, yet with a simple elegance not destroyed by his formality, opens a story--stay, i can give you a graceful passage of the doctor's, and in the same breath you shall hear how it would come spluttering forth from the clumsy pen of his imitators. "'dr. johnson himself. "'ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promise of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of rasselas, prince of abyssinia.' "'dr. johnson imitated. "'ye who listen with ignorant credulity to the whispering blandishments of fancy, and pursue with inconsiderate eagerness the enchanting and seductive phantoms of hope; who idly expect that grudging age will perform the rash but generous promise of thoughtless youth, and that the glaring deficiencies of the present day will be providentially supplied by the inexhaustible profusion of the morrow; attend to the moral history of rasselas, crown prince of abyssinia.'" "there is much truth in what you observe," said a quiet modest-looking passenger on our left to the talkative johnsonite, who deprecated long speeches; "much truth; and perhaps as you dislike exaggeration in whatever professes to imitate, you might be entertained with one of my 'photographic pictures,' warranted accurate. i am, sir, yours respectfully, h. g. a. now as there happens to be one of these pictures distinctly present to my eye at this moment, though the scene is far from fleet street, i think i can copy it to the life, and if you please we'll call it-"a scene near hogsnorton. "a ditch frequented much by water-rats, with velvet-headed rushes borderèd; two little boys who fish for tittlebats with sticks, and crooked pins, and bits of thread; three willow trees that stand with drooping boughs upon the banks, and look disconsolate; a bull that flings his tail up as he lows- he's coming at those boys, as sure as fate! a church spire peeping from amid the trees, with vane in semblance of a fiery cock; and farmer stubbles lolling at his ease, across a gate to view his fleecy flock; a barn that seems just ready to fall down, and _would_, but for the shores that stay its falling; and, where yon row of elms the green slopes crown, is thomas noakes, with hand to mouth, outcalling to simon simpson in the fields below, and telling him to mind that precious bull- he's fresh from town, poor lad, and does not know what danger lurks amid the beautiful; here a tall oak its branches flingeth out, as if it said--"i am of trees the king!" and there an aged hawthorn spreads about its crooked arms--a queer misshapen thing; far off you see a mill--more trees--some houses- look at this frisking colt, why what a kicker!- _feathers and parasols!_ here come the spouses of dr. dobbs, and mr. trench, the vicar, the smiths, the joneses, and jemimah prescot- i'm off, before they nail me for their escort!" the reciter, who wore an air that bespoke him of the country, was here addressed by a metropolitan gentleman seated in his vicinity, who announced himself as a brother initialist, a. g. k. "well, sir, simon simpson, 'fresh from town,' was not more awkwardly situated than i once was, in this very lane here, when fresh from the country. you see the vehicle has just turned out of fleet street, and is making for holborn; so if you like to listen, i'll give you my impressions on first finding myself in "chancery lane. "i meditated the desperate design of hastening to holborn by the first street which led thither; a desperate design, indeed, as i knew not the street through which i should have to pass. as ill-luck would have it, "chancery lane" was the first that offered, and well does it deserve the name; dark, narrow, crooked, long, and tedious is this elysium of the law! on every side i beheld long and careworn faces, and, as is generally the case with legal suits, i might easily have got through it alone, had i not been prevented by the many passengers, like the numerous little cases put into causes to protract and swell the client's difficulties. perhaps it may be thought that i could have stepped into the middle of the street, and so have managed to walk on; not so--the vehicles were as numerous nearly as the passengers, and there was no resource but to wait. on this, i began to look around me, to see if i could discover anything that could take away the tedium of stoppage. i gazed on the persons nearest to me; from the youngest to the oldest--from the poorest to the richest, there was the same invariable careworn look. "first there came the young office-boy, groaning under a large bag of parchment and what not; then the unfortunate articled clerk, desponding at the idea of five years in so gloomy a place, wherein his youth's best years were to be spent. the needy clerks, who received a stipend, came next; their little all had, with the characteristic theatrical mania of lawyers' clerks, vanished the night previous at the adelphi, or adjacent tavern. but not alone did these wear a look of gloom: the fishermen, the snarers, even the attorneys themselves, looked vexed; the stoppage of the way teased them sadly. it was five minutes past the time when that little bony wretch, the office boy, should have been screwed down to his comfortless stool, far from the apparition of a fire, from the phantom of heat! last of all came the client: it will easily be surmised why he looked gloomy. "the sun never shines there--the houses take care of that; in fact, the very 'fretwork' of the heavens seemed of a parchment yellow; the air breathed of briefs! no merry laugh is heard in chancery lane; no girl trips gaily along! no! the moaning of the dupe is heard there; the decrepit, grief-worn widow totters there, to find that her hope of subsistence is faded in useless expense. i have spoken of the numerous conveyances in the street. the horses were half-starved, the people within seemed bailiffs; and the omnibus proprietors (unlike our '_omnibus_') looked anxiously for in-comers. "chancery lane is, indeed, a fit place for the law: the houses overhang the street--the smoky windows, ay even the few shops seem impregnated with it. i turned to a book-stall to relieve my aching gaze, when a massive row of calf-bound volumes frowned upon me; i looked in a fruiterer's stall,--dry musty raisins, bitter almonds, olives and sour apples met my view. i then cast my eyes at a perfumery-shop; the wax dummies were arrayed in judge's wigs and black legal drapery. in despair i turned to a tailor's: a figure arrayed in black, on a wooden mould, appeared; but it was swathed in a barrister's gown. there was another figure with finely-cut clothes certainly; but allegorically, i suppose, it had no head. such is chancery lane. my associations with it are none of the pleasantest. what are yours?" this question, addressed to everybody, was answered by nobody. we had now advanced to the upper end of chancery lane; and, passing those buildings on the left, in which equity presides over the affairs of suitors, a passenger, who introduced himself under the designation of sam sly, and in whose eye there was a pleasant twinkle not ill associated with the appellation, observed in an inward tone, as if he were speaking to himself, "a poor devil who has once got into that court, must soon feel himself in the position of the letter _r_." as mr. sly's remark was not intended to be heard at all--so at least it seemed--it of course attracted general notice; and as there was a disposition manifested to know "why," mr. sly politely explained, "because, though far advanced in chancery, he can never get quite to the end of it. by the way," he proceeded, "all law is but an enigma; and talking of enigmas, i happen to have one--yes, here it is. rather an old-fashioned sort of thing, an enigma, eh? true, but so are epics, you know. am i to read? oh! very well, since you're all so pressing;"--and then to the following tune mr. sly trolled out his enigma. "a delinquent there is, and we ever shall scout him, for roguery never would flourish without him. we're lovers of peace; but regardless of quiet, this knave is the first in a row or a riot; a strange, paradoxical elf, we declare, that shies at a couple but clings to a pair. though at first in the right, still he's found in the wrong; and though harmony wakes him, yet dies in the song. three fifths of the error that poisons our youth, yet boasts of a formal acquaintance with truth. though not fond of boasting, yet given to brag; and though proud of a dress, still content with a rag. he sticks to our ribs, and he hangs by our hair, and brings with him trouble, and torment and care; stands thick in our sorrows and floats in our tears, never leads us to hope, but returns with our fears; to the worst of our passions is ever allied, grief, anger, and hatred, rage, terror, and pride. yet still, notwithstanding, the rogue we might spare if he kept back his old ugly phiz from the fair." we had by this time stopped at the end of drury lane to take up a passenger, who now appeared, emerging from that very dirty avenue, with an exceedingly small roll of ms. under his arm. the new-comer's eye was evidently in a fine frenzy rolling, and it was at once suspected from one end of the vehicle to the other, that he had just been writing a german opera for drury-lane theatre. "gentlemen," said he, the instant he had taken his seat, "you're all mistaken. through that miserable cranny i have been picking a path to the theatre for the sole purpose of taking off my hat to the statue of shakspeare, over the portico, in celebration of the event which renders its presence there no longer a libel and a mockery. you guess what i allude to. mr. macready has become the lessee of drury; and the noble task which he assigned to himself in the management of covent garden, he purposes here to complete. the whole public will rejoice in the renewal of his experiment, which should be hailed in golden verse. i wish i could write sonnets like milton or wordsworth. here are two, such as they are, addressed to the regenerator of the stage." to william charles macready, on his becoming the lessee of old drury. i. macready, master of the art supreme. that shows to dazzled and else guideless eyes (as doth astronomy the starry skies) the airy wonders of our shakspeare's dream; com'st thou again to shed a wakening gleam of morals, taste, and learning, where the gloom most darkens, as around the drama's tomb! oh, come, and show us yet the true extreme; transcendent art, for coarse and low desire; the generous purpose, for the sordid aim; for noise and smoke, the music and the fire of time-crown'd poets; for librettos tame, the emulous flashings of the modern lyre- come, and put scowling calumny to shame! ii. what though with thee come lear, himself a storm of wilder'd passion, and the musing dane, the gallant harry and his warrior-train, brutus, macbeth, and truth in many a form towering! not therefore only that we warm with hope and praise; but that thy glorious part is now to raise the actor's trampled art, and drive from out its temple a loose swarm of things vice-nurtured--from the porch and shrine! and know, macready, midst the desert there, that soon shall bloom a garden, swells a mine of wealth no less than honour--both most bare to meaner enterprise. let that be thine- who knowest how to risk, and how to share! l. b. hereupon, a bard started up in the very remotest corner, and interposed in favour of the epigram, seeing that such oddities as sonnets and enigmas were allowed to pass current. immediately, and by unanimous invitation, he produced some lines written in the album of a fair damsel, whose sire has but one leg, and complains of torture in the toes that he has not. "the heart that has been spurn'd by you can never dream of love again, save as old soldiers do of pain in limbs they left at waterloo." we expressed our acknowledgments, and then heaved a sigh to the memory of an old friend, who, having suffered from the gout before his limb was amputated, felt all the pain, just as usual, at the extremity of his wooden leg, which was regularly flannelled up and rubbed as its living predecessor used to be. but here our reflections were broken off by a stoppage, as if instinctively, at a chemist's shop, the door of which, standing open, afforded a fair view of the scene which follows. on the subject of hom[oe]opathy we profess to hold no opinion; but, considering that it prescribes next to nothing to its patients, it must be an excellent system for a man who has next to nothing the matter with him. it is comical, at all events, to think of a doctor of that school literally carrying his "shop" in his pocket, and compressing the whole science of medicine into the smallest lilliputian nut-shell. imagine a little customer going with a large order to a homoeopathic apothecary. [illustration] _little girl._ "please, sir, i want the hundred-thousandth part of a grain of magnesia." _young chemist_ (whose hair would certainly stand on end, were it not so tightly pommaded down, at the simplicity of the little innocent in asking for as much medicine as would kill or cure a whole regiment of soldiers). "very sorry, miss, but we don't sell anything in such large quantities; you had better apply at apothecaries' hall." and he follows her to the shop-door to see whether she had brought with her a hackney-coach or a van to carry away the commodity she had inquired for! * * * * * _driver._ i say, tom, here's that there elderly lady a coming, as wanted to go with us at our first start. _cad._ ay, well, it's no use, bill--she's too late _agen_--ve're full--all right--go on! [illustration: _an election squib._] "my vote and interest." a communication from mr. simpleton schemer, of doltford-lodge, crooksley. crooksley doesn't return members to parliament--i wish it did. i'm sure i took pains enough ten years ago to procure for it--all my property being situate there--the privilege which was at that time accorded to other towns of consideration and respectability; for although the population doesn't much exceed three hundred and sixty, i took upon myself to make a return of our numbers to the then secretary of state, which _ought_ to have prevailed in our favour; for i proved that the population amounted to within a dozen of seven thousand, merely by including the churchyard, which i well might do, as part and parcel of crooksley itself, and adding the affectionate wives, virtuous husbands, and filial prodigies, now no more, to the estimate of the living inhabitants; also, by anticipating the returns of christenings for a few succeeding years; which was easily done by guessing, on the authority of blandish (our medical man, with whom i was at that time friendly), what number of children extra the various increasing families within the boundaries of crooksley were likely to be blessed with. not the smallest notice, however, was taken of my memorial; and crooksley to this hour does not return a single representative. i read an advertisement the other day in our county paper, of some new patent strait-waistcoats; which advertisement was headed thus:--"worthy the attention of the insane!" now, if crooksley had been enfranchised, that is the very heading which might have been affixed to an advertisement for an independent candidate to represent it at the present crisis--"_candidate wanted--worthy the attention of the insane!_" for a place more unlucky in its elections, more ill-omened and perverse in all its contests, more predestined to choose the wrong candidate, or more wilfully bent on self-destruction by scorning the advice of its best friends and patrons, i never lived in, since the day i sold my stock and good-will, and retired from the old jewry for ever. to every other place with which i am acquainted entrance is obtained by regular roads; to crooksley, i verily believe, there is no egress whatever but by _cross_-roads. i'm thinking of selling doltford-lodge--cheap. the first contest that ever took place in crooksley--for it is odd enough, but they never could get up a contested election until i, having retired from business, went to settle there in the enjoyment of concord, harmony, and peace,--the first contest occurred several years ago. it was a struggle--and well do i remember it--for the office of organist. no sooner was the place vacant--almost, i might say, before the bellows of the departed holder had lost their last breath of wind--than up started half-a-dozen of the nobs of crooksley, with dr. blandish at their head, and down they came to me at the lodge with a flourishing testimonial to sign--a testimonial in favour of miss cramper, as a fit and proper person to fill the post of organist. miss cramper! and who was miss cramper, i internally asked myself. but i couldn't answer the question. i knew, in fact, little about her, except that she had lived long in the place, had decent connexions, not over rich, and happened to be a capital musician; the best organ-player, i must admit, that anybody ever heard in or out of our village. but with this exception she hadn't a single claim, not a pretension that i know of, to the post of organist. she was not asthmatic--she had not nine children, seven of them solely depending upon her for support--nor did she even pretend to have lost her eyesight, "or any part thereof," as knix the lawyer says; for she was ogling blandish all throughout the interview, as if she looked upon _him_ to be the first-fiddle in crooksley--humph! well! i confess i didn't like the proceeding; and so, after assuring the requisitionists, in the friendliest manner, that miss cramper should certainly have my vote and interest--in the event, i added, more to myself, perhaps, than to them--in the event of no candidate coming forward to oppose her,--what did i do but i brought forward a candidate of my own! it so happened that i had taken down there with me from the old jewry an elderly warehouseman, whom i couldn't well send adrift, and who was of no earthly use to me, either in the house or in the grounds. now, poor joggins, besides being bent double, chanced, very luckily, to have eyes like an owl, and there were the strongest hopes of their becoming speedily weaker; so that here at once was a qualification. in addition to that, he had had two sons: one, a waterman, drowned by the usual means, collision with a steamer, was easily elevated into a british seaman dying in defence of his country; and the other, for whom i had obtained a situation in the new police, was, of course, one of the brave devoted guardians of his native land. to crown our good-luck, joggins had been very fond of playing the flute before wind got so very valuable to him, and really did know something practically of that enchanting instrument, so that his qualifications as an organist were more than indisputable. yet, strange to say, his nomination was the signal for violent opposition; and a tremendous conflict ensued. i was determined that blandish, though backed by the vicar, should not carry everything before him with a high hand, nor become, what, ever since the part i had taken relative to the enfranchisement question, he was striving to be, the dictator of crooksley. my own influence was not slight, and a powerful party rose up, notwithstanding our adversaries were earliest in the field. the walls were everywhere placarded, families were everywhere divided by circulars. "vote for joggins," "vote for cramper;" "joggins and grey hairs," "cramper and musical accomplishments;" "joggins the veteran parent of our brave defenders," "cramper and female virtue;" "joggins and the failure of eyesight." "cramper and organic changes:" these were among the changes rung throughout the village, and a mile or two round it, for upwards of three weeks. i called public meetings, at which i took the chair, and personally carried the resolutions; and i started a crooksley chronicle, of which i was at once the editor and all the correspondents. in both capacities i defied our antagonists to prove that their candidate had any one of the qualifications by which ours was so abundantly distinguished. i dared them to prove that there were any brave defenders on the other side; that there existed any ocular weakness; that there was a single grey hair or any symptom of decrepitude: while, on the other hand, i showed triumphantly that the legitimate candidate for the office of organist was a veteran flute-player, utterly and hopelessly incapable of any exertion whatever, and unobjectionable by the excess of his infirmity. blandish was so alarmed at the progress we made, that he began to give out in reply that miss cramper was considerably more advanced in years than had been insidiously suggested; that her eyesight was anything but vivid; that what seemed to be her own hair might not bear examination; and possibly he would have proceeded to other intimations tending to balance her claims with those of joggins, had she not stopped him with the declaration that she would rather lose her election, rather retire from the contest, than sanction such gross misrepresentations of fact. truth, she said, was everything, and it must prevail; her hair was her own, and her eyes piercers, she thanked heaven. but notwithstanding this electioneering attack upon his own nominee, i saw that blandish was on the very best terms with miss c.; and as the interest he took in her success could not solely be attributed to gratitude for her attendance at all his evening parties, to play his guests into patients, by provoking headaches that demanded draughts and powders in the morning, i issued, the day previously to the poll, a placard containing surely a very inoffensive query, thus--"why is blandish the patron of miss cramper?" the "why" was in very large capitals. now will it be believed that this, though it asserted nothing disrespectful, and merely put an innocent question, immediately created a very strong sympathy throughout crooksley in favour of our adversaries, and that the popular feeling was instantly shown in tumultuous cries of "cramper for ever!" so it happened, however. the result was, that the venerable joggins had virtually lost his election before the expiration of the first hour of polling. i then, feeling that every vote was wanted, went forward to record my own; when perceiving blandish (he had a horsewhip in his hand), i turned back with the view of bringing up a batch of electors from a distant part of the village; and on my return all was at an end, and so my vote wasn't wanted; for joggins, the old idiot, had resigned. i had a disagreeable encounter afterwards with that blandish, who is, i really think, fonder of carrying a horsewhip than any man i know; but gloriously was i at a subsequent period revenged; for i shammed a long illness, sent off to a neighbouring town for an apothecary, and paid him thirty-seven pounds odd for attendance which i never required, and medicine which i never tasted! poor blandish was so irritated, that he fell really ill himself, and took his own mixtures for three weeks. about a year after this we had another election in crooksley. the gravediggership became vacant. the blandish party, who had the churchwardens with them, wanted to get in young digdum, the son of the late official; and he would have walked the course sure enough, if i hadn't brought forward little spick the cross-sweeper to oppose him. party feeling never ran so high, i think, as on this memorable occasion. everybody felt the cause to be his own, and put forth his energies as though the issue of the struggle depended upon his exertions. it was like a life-and-death contest; and you would have thought that the consequence of being beaten was the being buried alive by the victorious candidate. i'm sure that if it had been to keep ourselves out of "apartments furnished" in the churchyard, we spickites could not have toiled harder. nor were the digdumites idle. on our side we had ranged, besides myself, who acted as chairman of the committee, lawyer knix (who handsomely volunteered his gratuitous services at two guineas a day); fobbs, the landlord of the crumpet and spade; tipson, of the vicar's head; (both of them very fond of an opposition, and always ready to further my views in bringing forward a candidate, and in keeping the poll open to the latest moment allowed by law;) then we had the crack printer of our town, whose charges were very moderate; several of the neighbouring gentry, friends of my own; and one swarthy sam, a character who had no fixed abode in crooksley, nor indeed anywhere else, and had not, therefore, a vote to give--but who kindly took an interest in the contest, and who proved a most valuable agent, for he particularly knew what he was about in a row, could drown by his own unaided lungs the voice of the most stentorian speaker on the other side, and would tear down, i do think, more of the enemy's placards in an hour than they could stick up in a day. on their side, they had the fat churchwarden, and the stately master of the workhouse; the skeleton of a schoolmaster, the parish-lawyer (knix was independent), and various other paid functionaries or hirelings. well, there wasn't one of them that didn't wish himself well out of crooksley before the contest was over; for we left nothing of their private history unraked, i can tell you. the "crooksley chronicle" came again into play, and i wrote letters--in junius's style--only under the various signatures of vindex, justitia, a spickite, philo-spickite, veritas, an admirer of crooksley, anti-digdum, &c. &c. we also raised with remarkable success, a cry of "no brickdust, no pigs' bristles!" in conjunction with the cry of "no digdum." it did not in point of fact mean anything in particular, as far as we were aware, but it vexed the digdum party amazingly, and made spick surprisingly popular[4]. the best of the fun was that we had forestalled them in taking possession of _both_ public-houses--the crumpet and spade, and the vicar's head--for our committee-rooms; so that they had only a little bit of a beer-shop to assemble in. this drove the digdum party to distraction. they made incredible exertions to get us out of the vicar's head; and a deputation came privately to our worthy host's good dame, and offered, if digdum were returned, to bury her husband for nothing--for poor tipson was sadly apoplectic! such were the too-powerful temptations (for so in some instances they proved), such the demoralising practices, to which our depraved and desperate opponents had resort. they went to clank the blacksmith, and promised, if he would but vote for digdum, they would see him and all his family buried with pleasure free of charge; but clank was not to be seduced, for having once had a turn-up with swarthy sam in the skittle-ground, he preferred being on the same side _with_ sam, you see--not caring to fall out--and to say the truth, they were not a few that had similar feelings. sam was a capital canvasser, and it wasn't everybody that would like to say "no" to him. at last dawn'd the day, the important day, "big with the fate of digdum or of spick." every soul in crooksley was out of doors; the excitement was intense; seventeen pots of beer and best part of a round of beef were consumed at the crumpet and spade alone before ten in the morning. every chaise, fly, and hack in old wheeler's yard was in requisition. both parties were particularly well satisfied with the result of the canvass, and assembled at the place of nomination with equal confidence. our flags bore the several inscriptions of "spick the opponent of corruption," "spick and span," "spades are trumps," &c.; theirs had, "no cross-sweeper," "no sweeping changes," "digdum and the rites of the departed," &c. &c. blandish nominated digdum, and then i proposed spick in a neat and appropriate speech. well we gained our election--that is, we gained it by a show of hands; but the other party took the mean advantage of demanding a poll. there was instantly a rush of upwards of a dozen on their side, and very near a score on ours. to keep up the advantage we had gained was the thing. unfortunately some of our safest voters were now drunk, having received eighteen-pence a piece to attend the nomination of candidates; and instead of flocking to the poll, off they went to the vicar's head, or the crumpet and spade, swearing they wouldn't vote at all unless supplied with pots round; which fobbs and tipson very readily drew for them: i having desired those disinterested persons in the morning not to stand very nice about a measure or two of ale, and they promised me they would not, as i was to pay. and this, in fact, i shouldn't have minded; but, unluckily, the worthy electors got so drunk that they absolutely forgot what colours they fought under, and went and voted for the wrong candidate. this turned the scale against us. what was to be done? i had already got some of the digdumites away; a tenant of mine, seven miles off, having engaged to "coop" them, that is, to make them "fuddled," and to prevent their return in time. a few more must be pounced upon. swarthy sam (that invaluable election-agent) undertook to inveigle them and manage the business. we got a vehicle or two; and partly by cajolery, partly by intimidation, and a display of the enemy's colours, off we carried in an opposite direction to the poll a batch of digdum's supporters. away we drove, sam conducting us, through by-lanes and across ploughed-fields, i may say, so that i hardly knew where i was. deaf to all remonstrances, on we went, till, feeling pretty secure, i pretended it was time to turn back or we should all be too late for the poll, and jumped down to consult privately with sam as to the expediency of further stratagems; when--to my inexpressible astonishment and confusion, as you may well imagine--my swarthy vagabond of an agent, whom i trusted on account of his bad character, and because nobody else would, indulged his lungs with the most vociferous roar of laughter i ever heard, to which the entire party added a chorus. in one instant the whole line of vehicles wheeled round and galloped off towards crooksley, leaving me staggering helplessly into a deep ditch on my left, overcome with rage, mortification, and dismay. they all arrived in time to vote for digdum, sam and all, who went up arm in arm with clank, the blacksmith. as for me, i never found my way back until hours after the poll had closed; and as i approached the scene with a foreboding heart, the first person i encountered was the defeated spick--spick the rejected of crooksley--who bitterly assailed me as the sole cause of his total "ruination," having spoiled his trade of cross-sweeping by exciting everybody against him, and reduced him to a condition that promised his successful rival immediate employment in his new profession. "i shouldn't ha' minded," he said, with a sneer, "your not guving on me your wote, but what i complains on is, you would guv me your hintrest!" after this, as you may well suppose, i grew rather disgusted, and a little sick of exercising one's public spirit and disinterested philanthropy to no purpose; so i permitted dr. blandish to triumph on one or two occasions, rather than subject the town to the inconvenience of a contested election. i allowed the boy bratts, whom he patronised, to get elected into our juvenile asylum without opposition; and when soppy put up for the situation of turncock, full in the teeth of blandish's pet candidate, though he came to me and implored the favour of my vote and interest, i gave him neither. i did not poll for him, nor did i solicit a soul in his behalf; yet soppy won the election by a considerable majority. indeed blandish has been disgracefully beaten on more than one occasion when i had disdained to interfere at all; though whenever i _have_ interfered--when i have canvassed my very heart out, and talked the teeth out of my head--bribing here, treating there--threatening this man with the loss of my custom, and tempting the other with all sorts of seductive promises--hang me (for it puts me in a passion!) if he hasn't been triumphantly successful. there was the election of a contractor to supply leather-shorts to the charity school. i decided to take no part in it; but when i perceived which way the election was sure to go, when i saw which man would beat to a dead certainty, i changed my mind, threw all my influence into the scale of the popular candidate, gave him my entire support, and would have given him my vote--only he resigned on the morning of the election not having a chance of winning; for directly i took up his cause, he began to lose ground:--odd enough, you will say, but it so happened; although i set a barrel flowing at tipson's, promised old coats at christmas to two dozen ragged but independent electors, and gave at least half that number of the better class permission to shoot on my property. the last great battle that i fought was on behalf of widow bricks, candidate for the office of housekeeper to our infirmary. here dr. b. was "top-sawyer," as they say; this was carrying the war into the enemy's country. all crooksley was astonished, petrified almost, at my boldness; but i was lucky in my choice of a candidate, the bricks having been resident in the place as long as crooksley itself had been in existence, and the widow being left with eleven small children; while the doctor's candidate hadn't the smallest scrap of offspring to go to the poll with. so to the work of philanthropy i went; and notwithstanding a hint from the blandish faction, that if beaten the doctor would certainly resign his office in the institution, i was successful beyond my hopes. we elected the eleven little bricks upon our committee, and took them about with us upon our canvas--a procession singularly imposing and irresistible. nothing could equal the popular enthusiasm; and the greatest possible effect was created wherever they appeared, for we kept them all without their dinners up till bed-time, to make them cry; which is the only method of melting the public heart, since a constant drop, we are told, will wear away a stone. the eldest of the bricks, a boy, had a turn for spouting; and we made him address the people from the window of the vicar's head, by reciting "my name is norval," which he had heard done by some strolling-players. this was amazingly successful; but unfortunately the mob consisted chiefly of non-electors, for it was only the subscribers to the institution who had the privilege of voting. voters, therefore, i made in scores, simply by paying their subscriptions for them. as fast as blandish could extract promises from the old subscribers, i produced new ones; the list of qualified electors exceeded anything ever heard of in the annals of benevolence. i spare you the speech i made at the nomination of candidates; merely remarking, that i wasn't aware there was so much virtue in woman as i discovered in the widow, and that i never knew there were half so many charms and graces in infancy, as i detected in her eleven little angels--who all stood in a heartrending row upon the hustings, crying lustily, for they had not been allowed a bit of breakfast on that important occasion. the effect was seen as the voting proceeded; the compassionate rushed to the poll and voted for bricks, i may say, _like_ bricks. still our opponents mustered strongly, and i was compelled to make a good many people benevolent that morning who had never spent a shilling in charity in their lives. the numbers for a considerable time were pretty nearly balanced; the excitement grew more intense, the shouts of "vote for bricks and babbies," grew more vehement as the day advanced; till towards the close of the poll, the blandish faction appeared a little a-head of us, but at last they were exhausted; they had polled their last samaritan--the doctor himself had given his vote--while i had purposely reserved mine. now, mine alone was sufficient to win; mine alone would decide the contest in the widow's favour; for, having trebled my usual subscription, i had a right to six votes, and six would give us just a majority of one. with a heart swelling with conscious triumph, exulting in the cause of charity and the defeat of our factious adversaries, i walked up to the ballot-box (we voted by ballot), and there what do you think occurred? directing a haughty look to the doctor's generally red face, now pale with rage, i was not sufficiently cautious in distinguishing between the y for "yes," and the n for "no," painted on the front of the balloting-machine; and inconsiderately turning my hand to the left instead of the right, i dropped the six cork marbles into the enemy's box--hang me, if i didn't vote against widow bricks. dr. blandish danced for joy, and i really thought he never would stand still again. not another shilling will his infirmary get from me. if crooksley were to return four members to parliament, _i_ wouldn't be one of them. footnote: [footnote 4: our respectable correspondent must have visited the english opera in his younger days, or else charles mathews must have paid a visit to crooksley. he must also have seen the printed addresses circulated lately in deptford during a contest for the office of gravedigger, where the proceedings were as outrageous as these that he describes.] the census. important days to all householders in the united kingdom, were sunday and monday, the 6th and 7th ult., and especially perplexing to those whose ideas of reading and writing were at all circumscribed. nor was the discomfort confined to the said illuminated members of society. ladies of a very certain age bridled up at being obliged to tell the number of summers that had passed over their heads: notwithstanding the loop-hole of the "five years" which the gallantry of the commissioners allowed them. elderly gentlemen also, who wore dark wigs that hid those auricular tell-tales of the _ci-devant jeune homme_, the ears, inwardly execrated the system of exposure to which the census paper gave rise, and willingly ran the risk of a fine "not more than five pounds, nor less than forty shillings," rather than be classed as old bachelors. from returns into which the commissioners have allowed us to peep, it appears that of the middle-aged population of these kingdoms, one in three has grown five years younger since the date of the last census; one in seven two years younger; one in twelve remains of the same age; one in thirty-eight, is five years older than at the period referred to; and one in five hundred and sixty has attained the full age that might have been anticipated from the lapse of years. we believe it has been distinctly ascertained by these returns that the highest age among the unmarried ladies in this country is twenty-nine--the average age is twenty-one and seven-eighths. the widows willing to marry again, are mostly quite juvenile; and it is a remarkable fact that many are younger now, as widows, than they appear to be in the previous return as wives. indeed the effect of the whole calculation is to show, perhaps in compliment to our young queen, that her subjects are the most decidedly juvenile people in christendom. nor was the designation of the respective professions and callings of our fellow-countrymen a task of less difficulty. commonplace and even plebeian, as is the simple question "who are you?" widely as the interrogation was diffused a short time back by the _gamins_ of london, it is a query we opine, in common with the cool audacious mr. dazzle, that would puzzle half the world to answer properly. some are all profession--others are not any. thousands live by their wits--thousands more by the total absence of them; many whom the world gives credit to for working hard in an industrious _état_ for their income, privately lead the lives of gentlemen; and many gentlemen whom we envy on account of their ostensible otiose existence, labour perchance in secret much harder than ourselves. numbers would shrink if their employment was known, and numbers more would be extremely indignant if any other than their own was assigned to them. the schedule stated that the professions of wives, or sons and daughters, living with and assisting their parents, needed not to be inserted. there was no mention at all made of the professions of faithless lovers, election candidates, and false friends; probably these were imagined to be of so little value as to be utterly beneath notice. but although the commissioners were pleasantly minute and clear in their instructions for filling up their circulars, they will still be wide away from the real statistics of the population, when all the bills are returned and the totals properly added. what industrious enumerator, we would ask, did, with praiseworthy indefatigability, leave a schedule at the temporary habitations of the thousand individuals who on the monday in question were located upon ascot heath, in anticipation of the approaching races? who dared to penetrate into the mysteries of the yellow caravans there collected, or invade the bohemian seclusion of the tilted hovels? what account was taken of the roadside tent-holders, and the number of the families of these real "potwallopers?" is the following paper relating to these people, which has fallen into our hands, the mislaid document of a careless enumerator of the sunning-hill district, or is it an attempt to play upon our credulity: (copy.) name, (if any) of the house, or of the village or } caravan, no. 937,654. hamlet in which it stands. } name of the street or other part of the town, (if in } winkfield lane. a town), and no. of the house. } ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+-------- name and | | |of what |if born |if born surname of each| age | | profession, | in the | in person who | of | age | trade, or | county. |ireland, abode or slept | males.| of | employment, | | in this house | | females.| or if of | |&c. on the night | | | independent | | of june 6. | | | means. | | ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+-------- bill soames | 45 | |shoman. | no |don't kno | | | | | mary soames | | 38 |wife--vurks | no | no | | | the barrul | | | | | horgan outside| | gipsy mike |not | |none. | no |no veres | nown | | | | pertickler phelim conolly | 35 | |black vild |not | never knowd | | | ingian. | sartin | sarah cooper | | 24 |tellin off | no | | | | fortuns. | | young chubby a | 2 | |ired fur the |st. giles's| babby | | | races. | | brummagim harry | 40 | |keeps a | yes | | | | thimble-rig. | | ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+--------but there were many, many others, who were excluded from the privilege of registering their names amongst the population of their country. the unfortunate individuals who slept throughout the night in the stony precincts of the police-office lock-up cells, were deprived of this honour. even admitting that the police had received instructions to take down the names of the stray-flocks under their charge, the ends of the commissioners were still defeated, for it was not probable that the hon. clarence piercefield, who had kicked the head waiter at the cider-cellars, for telling him not to join in the glees so loudly--who had thrashed the cabman in holborn--who had climbed up behind king charles at charing-cross, and who, finally, upon being pulled down again by the police and taken into custody, had given his name as thomas brown,--it was not probable, we repeat, that this honourable gentleman would see any occasion to alter the name in the schedule, or recant his alleged profession of "medical student." his rightful appellation found no place in the paper, no more than the hundreds who slept out altogether that night, from the wretched, shivering, poverty-stricken occupiers of the embryo coal-cellars of future houses in the neighbourhood of railway _termini_, to the tipsy gentleman who tumbled by mistake into a large basket of turnip-tops and onions in covent garden-market, and slept there until morning, dreaming that he was the inhabitant of an eastern paradise, with _houris_ pelting roses at him. even the ill-used mr. ferguson, whom everybody has heard of, but nobody knows, failing in all his attempts to procure a lodging for the night, found no place in the strictly-worded schedule. the real name of mr. ferguson is legion, yet he found a lodging nowhere. and many returns of the erratic youth of respectable families must prove, that their very fathers did not know they were out, to say nothing of their mothers: on the other hand, probably many more would be found wanting in the real numbers, were circumstances narrowly inquired into. it is fortunate for the correctness of the statistics that sunday was the day fixed upon for enumerating the population. had it been any other, the numbers who _slept in the house_ would have materially swelled the lists. the house of commons might have furnished an imposing array of names every night in the week to begin with. the various literary institutions and scientific meetings of the metropolis, on their respective nights, would not have been behind hand; and even the theatres, might have sent in a tolerably fair muster-roll of slumberers, according to the nature of their performances. we presume that the guards of mail-coaches, drovers who were going to the monday's markets, watchmen of houses, newly-buried relations, and medical men attending poor law unions, will be allowed a future opportunity of registering their names; for none of these individuals were ever known--at least we believe not--to sleep or abide one night in their houses. are these hardworking and useful classes of society to be accounted as nothing--to be placed in a scale even beneath "persons sleeping over a stable or outhouse," who, although not worthy to be inserted along with their betters in the schedule, are, at all events allowed a paper to themselves? the care that arranged the manner of enumerating the population ought to have put forward plans for taking the census of the always-out-of-doors portion of the english on the night in question, hackney-coachmen included; and a space might, at the same time, have been appropriated in the schedule for "those who were not at home, but ought to have been." we will not dwell upon the material difference this important feature would have made to the calculations in many points. we give the commissioners a peep at the fallacy of their plans, and we leave it to them to remedy it. all we have to add, in conclusion is, that we sent in our own name according to the prescribed ordinance, but it was not rocket. [illustration] love's masquerading. by laman blanchard. i. love never less surprises than when his tricks are tried; in vain are all disguises, himself he cannot hide. he came, the masquerader, to conscious kate, one day, attempting to persuade her; he then was--far away! "ah love!" she cried, unfearing, "take any shape you will, strange, distant, or endearing, this heart would know you still." ii. then love came clad like sorrow; his robe was dark as night; but like a golden morrow, flash'd forth his forehead's light; she knew him, as with languor he play'd the wounded dove: then fierce he frown'd--'twas anger! but still she knew 'twas love! iii. then came he wreathed like pleasure; in vain he cried, "rejoice!" and sang a laughing measure- she knew him, by his voice. he tuned his tongue to railing, performing envy's task; his scowl was unavailing, she saw him--through his mask. iv. like cloak'd revenge then stealing, with poniard bare he came, his limbs, his looks, concealing- yet still he seem'd the same. then he, his thoughts dissembling, with jealousy's wild air, stood raging, watching, trembling,- yet love alone stood there. v. next came he garb'd like malice; yet wore his cheek the rose, no poison crowns his chalice, with wine it overflows. and then as joy, arrayed in rare colours from above; he failed again--the maiden in joy saw only love! vi. then casting off his splendour, he took black hatred's guise; but all his tones were tender, she knew him--by his eyes. in all he fail'd; when glancing like fear, afraid to stir; and when like hope, half-dancing- for hope was love to her. "in vain," she cried, "your powers, take any shape you may; are hearts less wise than flowers, that know the night from day?" frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter iii. a rigid search after mr. heartwell was instituted under the superintendence of two of the most efficient officers of the bow street establishment. the evidence given by the coachman was proved to be strictly correct, except that a small portion of time was unaccounted for between the period of his having--as he stated--set the lieutenant down in ormond street, and his arrival at the coach-stand in covent garden, which according to the deposition of the waterman was much later than would have been required to traverse the distance between the two places. but simpson's explanation was that, having by request driven his fare very quick to ormond street, he merely walked his horses to charles street in order to cool them. nothing whatever having been elicited that day which was calculated to throw any light on the mysterious affair, mr. brady with his witnesses appeared before mr. bond on the following morning at the time appointed, when the officers made their reports, and were instructed to persevere. the bank agent deposed that he had paid over to the lieutenant at the office of mr. brady, and in the presence of the lawyer and his clerk, a thousand guineas in gold, and bank-notes to the amount of fourteen thousand pounds, besides securities and deeds, relating to property supposed to be of considerable value in the east indies, all which had belonged to the lieutenant's uncle, who had died without issue and intestate: he produced the receipt for the charge he had delivered, and stated that he had earnestly advised the lieutenant to deposit the whole in the hands of his professional man to invest for him to the best advantage; but though mr. heartwell perfectly assented to the propriety of such a step, yet he expressed himself so desirous of displaying his newly acquired fortune to his wife, that as a matter of course he (the agent) offered no further argument against it. shipkins, the clerk, corroborated the statement of mr. brady; but in addition, mentioned that the lieutenant had declared that it was his intention to resign his appointment to the seventy-four for the purpose of remaining at home with his family, but that it would be necessary for him in the first instance to visit portsmouth. the officers used their utmost vigilance, and the secretary of state offered a large reward to any one who could render information of the fate of the missing officer. ben was despatched to portsmouth to make inquiry whether his master had been seen in that neighbourhood, or on board the ship; but no clue was obtained. days--weeks--months passed away, and mrs. heartwell experienced an unmitigated state of anxiety and suspense. yet though doubts prevailed that she should never behold him again, she determined never to clothe herself in the semblance of mourning till she had proof that he was dead. young frank partook of the feelings of his mother; but the elasticity of boyhood does not long retain the acuteness of sorrow; the delightful changes which nature is constantly presenting to the ardency of youth and "all is beautiful, for all is new," superseded the grief which preys upon more advanced age, when the heart knoweth its own bitterness; and whilst the mother was pining and weeping over her heavy affliction, frank forgot in the joys of amusement that there was anything like unhappiness in the world. he was a bold, free-hearted, jovial lad, who loved to frolic over the gardens and grounds round the british museum. nor was ben inactive in either promoting the mirthful indulgences of the lad, although there might be a little mischief in progress, or seeing that fair-play was exercised when pugnacity or wrong led to pugilistic encounters. it is true that the fond parent in her solicitude would expostulate, and on some occasions reprove; but the ready acknowledgment of error which frank always made when in the wrong, and the argument of ben, "bless you, my lady, you can't never go for to rig out an ould figure-head upon young shoulders--besides, what's the odds, so as you're happy?" soon produced reconciliation and pardon. it has been said "sweet are the uses of adversity;" but it is hard to contemplate the approach of poverty with its train of evils that no mortal influence can subdue; and such was the case with mrs. heartwell. daily she saw her resources decreasing--the pay of the lieutenant was stopped; she could not claim her widow's pension, for she had no proof of her husband's death; there were no relations to whom she could apply in her distress for assistance or counsel. mr. brady had sent in a heavy bill for law business, and pressed for payment; difficulties in short accumulated on all sides. one, and only one, of her former associates continued to visit her; and this was an elderly man of unattractive manners, who claimed a distant relationship. he seldom spoke but when addressed; and his remarks were generally of a caustic and misanthropic cast, rendering him an object not only of dislike to many, but of fear to some. he was poor, but how he lived no one knew; and yet on more than one occasion he had spoken of important affairs even in the state, that displayed a tolerably accurate knowledge of persons and things far above his station in society: in short, he was a mystery that set conjecture at defiance. such was mr. unity peach; in age between fifty and sixty; a large round face, with a great bushy wig upon his head, and one eye covered over with a black patch, the other grey and cold without expression; he was stout made, short, and with limbs like a giant, though he complained of feebleness and debility. he seldom uttered one word of cheering kindness, yet when asked for his advice he would give it; and it was seldom known to fail in its beneficial results. to frank and the seaman he was an object of aversion that they did not care at all times to conceal; yet, with a perverseness that seemed congenial to his character, if there was any individual to whom the old man could be attached, it was ben brailsford. "you are hurrying on to ruin," said mr. unity peach one day, in reply to a question from mrs. heartwell; "large house--lazy sailor--mischievous boy." "but i would willingly quit the house, sir," returned the lady, "and strive by some means or other to provide for myself and child." "let lodgings--keep a school--make the boy a shoemaker--send that jack tar to sea," was the response. "i have hitherto been guided in my conduct, mr. peach, by what i have supposed would be satisfactory to my husband could he witness my actions," replied the lady; "and yet--oh yes, i see there is no other resource, though i should prefer removing from this neighbourhood." "pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," quoted the old man; "go on and starve--no help for it." "i wish i had some friend to counsel me," exclaimed the afflicted woman, as the tears gushed from her eyes. "bah!--nonsense!--friends, indeed! won't take counsel--good morning;" and mr. unity arose to depart. "i meant no reflections upon you, mr. peach," returned the lady. "you have at times advised me, and well too--but indeed, sir, your harshness----" "i know it,--i know it," bitterly replied the old man, interrupting her, whilst a malicious grin played upon his swarthy countenance; "you hate me--you all hate me." "you do me great injustice to suppose such a thing," responded mrs. heartwell, mildly; "i would wish to entertain respect and esteem----" "bah! folly!" uttered mr. unity, preventing the concluding remarks of the lady. "no such things in the world as respect, esteem--all deceit." "i have a better opinion of my fellow-creatures----" "better opinion!" interrupted the old man, with a taunting sneer. "yes--right--husband murdered--lawyer threatening--abandoned in trouble--sinking in poverty--eat up with pride--idle boy--saucy sailor--fellow-creatures indeed!" at this moment ben entered, and though deference and respect for his mistress kept him silent, yet the clenching of his fist and the indignation of his look plainly evidenced that he would, if he durst, have given mr. unity peach a thrashing. nor did the old man seem insensible to what was passing in the worthy seaman's mind, for he turned upon him a glance of contempt and defiance that but ill accorded with the angular inclination of his body, which betokened weakness and decrepitude. mrs. heartwell, endeavouring to suppress her agitation, turned with a look of inquiry to ben. "why, my lady, i don't perticklarly want anything," replied the seaman somewhat confusedly, as he fidgetted about the room in his accustomed way when he had any communication of importance to make. "has anything occurred?" asked the lady with impatience. "bless you, my lady," ejaculated ben, whilst a flush spread over his cheeks, and a tear stood trembling in his eye; "i ounly wish i was rouling in gould and i'd soon capsize the lubbers; but ounly speak the word and i'll do it now, though the unconscionable scamps have boarded us in the smoke." "of whom are you speaking?" demanded mrs. heartwell, as a thrill of sickly apprehension passed through her heart. but the seaman had not time to answer before the door of the room was opened, and in walked a corpulent but athletic man, whose very appearance announced his calling to be that of a sheriff's officer; whilst close behind him came his assistant, though he did not venture beyond the door-way. "werry sorry, ma'am--werry sorry," said the officer, producing a writ of execution, "i al'ays likes to be civil to ladies, but must do my dooty you know--mustn't i, sir?" and he turned to mr. unity peach, who, bent down and leaning heavily on his stick, which he seemed to grasp convulsively, nodded assent. "what is all this?" demanded mrs. heartwell, looking first at the officer and then at mr. peach, and then at ben, who, though it was the height of summer, had got hold of the poker, and was busily stirring the white paper shavings that ornamented the grate. "oh, it's not werry much, ma'am," replied the officer, displaying the official document; "it's only a writ as i've got to sarve, and in course must trespass upon your family for board and lodging till the matter's settled--that's all." "i do not understand it, mr. peach," said the distressed lady; "pray explain it to me." "bailiff!" replied the old man, pointing to the officer in an introductory manner; "come to seize furniture--some of your fellow creatures:" and then, mimicking the manners of the official, he wound up with the same exclamation--"that's all." "that's all, ay, and enough too!" mumbled ben as he made the room echo with rattling the poker in the grate; "i ounly wish my lady 'ud give the word, i'm blessed if it should be all; i'd larn 'em to seize furniture; and it arn't best for their health that they clap a flipper upon it whilst i'm here." "go to sea," muttered mr. unity peach. "work for your living--don't lazy away your time here!" "i tell you what it is, ould genelman," exclaimed ben, all the feelings of the tar aroused within his breast. "you're an oncantankerous scamp with your spiteful tongue. but bless you, my lady, ounly say the word and i'll clear the decks of the whole boiling of 'em afore you can look round you;" and the seaman flourished the poker in a menacing attitude at the officer and his follower, but the next instant he felt his arm restrained as if it had been fixed in the gripe of a blacksmith's vice, and by his side stood mr. unity peach. "put that poker down," said the old man in a tone of command as he grasped the seaman's wrist; "obey the laws." "all werry right, sir," uttered the sheriff's officer; "not as i'm afear'd of being attackted, but arter all there's nothing like obeying the law, and it shows as you're a man of sense. i must do my dooty, howsomever unpleasant. there's the writ, ma'am." "at whose suit?" demanded mr. peach, who quietly took the weapon from ben's hand, and replaced it within the fender. "at the suit of muster jocelyn brady," replied the officer, "attorney-at-law, lincoln's inn. debt and costs one hundred and seventeen pounds, six shillings, and eightpence." "the villain!" uttered a voice, half suppressed, from some part of the room, but from whom it proceeded it would have been difficult to say. poor mrs. heartwell was almost overwhelmed, and frank coming in from school and staring wildly at the spectacle, added to her distress. on seeing his mother's tears, he threw his arms round her neck and kissed her; and then, turning round with flushed cheeks and a fierceness that he seldom manifested, demanded of the officer "what business he had there?" this mr. peach explained in as few words as possible, but not without instilling venom into what he did say, to the great anger of ben, and the increased dislike of the boy. but there was no avoiding the instrument of the law, nor any means to get rid of its agent. the execution was served, and the bailiff remained in charge. the almost heart-broken mrs. heartwell waited upon the lawyer, but he refused to see her; the furniture was sold; and it racked her heart to part with things which time and circumstances had endeared to her; and now she, who had been within a few minutes of attaining affluence, was reduced to the verge of destitution. a small, ready-furnished apartment received the mourner and her son; but her money was gone, she knew no one to whom she could apply. ben had expended every shilling that he possessed; but the worthy fellow would not desert his mistress; he got employment in a rigging gang to fit out east indiamen, and, reserving a bare subsistence for himself, he devoted all that he could spare to the use of frank and his mother. nor was this all; for after his hours of labour were over in the week days, and each sunday, he was constant in his attendance, to perform every kind office that he could without failing in the respect he had ever manifested towards his mistress. nor did mr. peach forsake the afflicted lady, though his visits were not so frequent as before; and he was incessant in his complaints of bad health, decaying strength, and growing poverty. "mrs. heartwell procured needlework, and toiled day and night to keep frank at school, and to obtain him food and clothes." nor could she even have done this but through the generosity of some unknown friend, who regularly transmitted her thirty shillings a month without note or comment. she believed her benefactor to be a kind and wealthy lady who had formerly taken an interest in her welfare; but it was evident the donor did not wish to be openly known. thus progressed another twelve months. ben and frank were inseparable companions as often as they could be together; and though mr. peach was constantly persuading his mother to bind the lad apprentice to a shoemaker, he still continued improving in his education, and the hard-toiling seaman often went without indulgences himself that he might secretly supply his young friend with pocket-money. at length to her great astonishment, mrs. heartwell received by post under a blank cover a note of the bank of england for £100. tears of joyous gratitude filled her eyes. the following day was devoted to recreation--the first she had known since the loss of her husband. and now came the consideration as to the best mode of employing the gift to the most advantageous use. at first the feelings of the mother directed her sole attention to young frank, and she thought of appropriating a large portion to putting him out in the world; but mr. peach, who was consulted on all important occasions, advised her to take a respectable house, furnish apartments, and let them to a respectable tenant: nor did he forget to insist upon his usual proposition of making frank a cordwainer. in every particular, save the last, the advice was followed. chapter iv. never was there a more instructive lesson issued to the nations of the earth than that which marked the origin, progress, and termination of the french revolution, with all its concomitant circumstances and final results. england with free institutions, and increasing in population, industry, and commerce, had set a bright example of what may be achieved under constitutional means; and as the english were ardent lovers of liberty, it cannot be supposed that they were indifferent to its extension on the continent. nor were they inactive at home; the changes in france had caused a feverish excitement amongst the working classes here, which interested traders in politics were not slow in turning to their own advantage. in order to counteract and defeat the evil machinations of such men, the government took into pay a number of individuals to act as spies in the camp of the disaffected; and as their wages depended upon the continuance of commotion, it very naturally followed that in numerous cases they were the secret promoters of agitation. but the political movement was not confined exclusively to the lower ranks in life; many of the middle grade had joined in it, and amongst the active disseminators of revolutionary principles was mr. jocelyn brady. but he moved in an elevated sphere, and was looked upon and treated with confidence by his party, both high and low. his legal practice was reported to be extensive, and he was said to be possessed of considerable property. he had both a town and a country residence, and he gave excellent dinners. but he was unrelenting in his avarice, vindictive when offended. the principal associate of mr. brady in most of his political transactions was a mr. acteon shaft, an acute intelligent man, whose grey hairs proclaimed him to be of an advanced age; and to him the lawyer was greatly indebted for much of the information and knowledge he obtained. mr. shaft had travelled far, and had visited foreign courts, and though his manners were rather uncouth, yet there was a charm in his conversation that rendered his society courted by men of talent. he was an ardent lover of rational liberty, and his generosity was the theme of universal praise. why two men so opposite in temper and disposition should form companionship must remain amongst those anomalies which every day's experience displays; even the pure metal requires a base alloy before it can be converted into sterling coin. but to return to mrs. heartwell, who had once more a comfortable residence, and devoted herself in every way to the improvement of her son. frank, on his part, was most affectionately attached to his mother, whom he revered with an intensity of feeling that was truly gratifying to her heart, and she was pleased to see that he evinced a kindly and generous feeling towards his fellow-creatures. he was mirthful, but inoffensive, mild and forbearing, except when aroused by severe injury to himself or others, and then his rage was uncontrollable. the first lodger that occupied mrs. heartwell's apartments was a monsieur polverel, a french deputy, who under the specious pretext of visiting and studying the institutions of england, availed himself of the opportunity to disseminate the doctrines of "liberty and equality;" nor was he long in finding an enlarged circle of congenial spirits--members of revolutionary clubs and corresponding societies, who, though advocating "equality," took especial care that no one below a certain rank should be admitted to their meetings; and the minister of liberty from france, monsieur polverel, finding that his black servant was accustomed to go out during his absence, actually locked him up in his room whenever he himself went in an evening to enjoy festivity amongst his friends, and to preach up the blessings of freedom. ben and frank, however, could not reconcile such tyranny to their minds, and a duplicate key being procured, the door was speedily thrown open, and forth issued sambo to join in their amusements, and many hours did the youth listen to the negro's narratives of his native place--port au prince, in san domingo--but care was always taken that he was again placed in confinement before the time of his master's return. monsieur polverel was one of those finicking, all legs-and-wings sort of frenchmen who when in conversation throw themselves into attitudes not inaptly resembling the wooden harlequins of children whose members are put into motion by pulling a string, only that his body was more elongated and had something of the greyhound build; his head was very large, and when he stood erect he looked like a beadle's staff with a globe on the top; in fact, it would have been no difficult task to have doubled him up like a two-foot rule, or to have put his body between his legs like a clasp knife. although a leveller, and affecting to despise distinctions, his clothes were richly ornamented and his fingers were brilliant with costly rings. when he passed an evening at home without company, he generally contrived to get frank and ben, and the negro into his room, where, in broken english, he propounded to them the doctrines of republicanism. sometimes mr. peach was admitted, and the discussions, whilst they afforded mirth to frank, and offence to the seaman, tended to open the understanding of the youth to subjects to which he had hitherto been a stranger. frank had now passed his thirteenth year. his predilection was for the sea; but his mother, who still had numerous difficulties to contend against, and looked upon her child as her best hope and encouragement, endeavoured by earnest persuasion to prevail upon him to settle on shore. in this she was supported by mr. peach; but the lad's longings could not be overcome, though he was deterred from proclaiming them, and thus balancing between affection for his parent and the desire to become a sailor, he remained undetermined and inactive. it was about this time that, to the great regret of mrs. heartwell, and the almost inconsolable grief of her son, ben brailsford was pressed; and disdaining to be anything but a volunteer in the service of his king and country, he entered for a ship-of-the line, then commanded by the honourable keith elphinstone (afterwards, lord keith). he wrote to inform them of this event, hoped that he should make prize-money--wished frank was with him on the quarter-deck as an officer--expressed sorrow at parting with them, but wound up all with his old expletive--"but what's the odds, so as you're happy?" the youth fretted, and almost sickened at the loss of his old and faithful associate; he neglected his studies, became melancholy and restless, and adhered closer to monsieur polverel, so as to be noticed by a distinguished visitor to the deputy, no other than the duke of orleans, who had been prevailed upon to visit london, by lafayette, in order to get him out of the way of doing mischief. frank became a great favourite with the duke, who treated him with much kindness, and made mrs. heartwell a very handsome present to assist in promoting the lad's welfare; and ultimately offered to take him to paris and provide for him; but this was declined--the mother could not part with her child. the beheading of the king of france excited a general feeling of horror and indignation throughout england. war was declared. the utmost activity prevailed in the dockyards; and a naval armament was put in motion. the aristocracy, the clergy, the corporate bodies, the landed proprietors, the merchants, the bankers, became alarmed, and took the lead in the re-action that ensued. the sectarians looked upon the french as infidels, and hailed the approach of war as the mighty engine which was to restore religion and morality. in this state of things the situation of monsieur polverel was not of the most pleasant description. he was well known to the french emigrants who crowded the metropolis; and on his returning one afternoon from a republican party, he was pointed out as a disseminator of those principles which had compelled them to abandon their country. a crowd collected, who vented their abhorrence in groans and hisses. he quickened his pace, but his pursuers increased as they progressed, till the deputy was urgently persuaded to run, by hearing the clattering of stones along the pavement, and feeling more than one or two hard blows on his back. now it was that the length of his legs rendered him good service, and a chase commenced that caused roars of laughter to the spectators, who clapped their hands and shouted with delight. on reaching mrs. heartwell's he knocked and rung violently, but sambo was locked up, and the maid-servant being busy, was in no great hurry to let him in. frank, however, had been looking out at the window, and instantly suspecting the cause of the uproar, he ran and opened the door, and the frenchman had just time to enter as his assailants were ascending the steps. it was at first feared that they would attack the house, but on being assured that monsieur polverel had taken his departure by the back way, the mob again set out in pursuit, but the deputy distanced them; for without waiting for bag or baggage, he hurried to dover as fast as a chaise-and-four could convey him, and at this latter place he received a no very gentle intimation that his presence on british ground could be entirely dispensed with; and elated was monsieur polverel when he once more found himself within the gates of calais. nothing could exceed the joy of sambo at his master's departure--the door was no longer locked upon him--he was free. since ben's departure frank had greatly attached himself to the negro, whose good humour and constant willingness to oblige rendered him a favourite in the house. other lodgers came to mrs. heartwell's; and as sambo had become useful, his services were retained. frank continued at school for a few months longer, when a new scene opened before him. he had heard of a seventy-four to be launched at deptford, and never having witnessed a ship-launch, he went, accompanied by sambo, to see it. but the press-gangs were abroad, and they both fell into their hands; for such was, at that time, the demand for men and lads to complete the complements of the ships of war, that respectable shopkeepers, who had formerly been to sea, were impressed at their own doors, and youths of "gentle blood" forced away by the gangs if found near the water-side. sambo would have resisted when he saw that frank was seized, but the youth saw how unavailing it would be, and desired him to desist. he told the officer that he was the son of a lieutenant in the navy, and requested to be allowed to return to his home; but this was positively refused. he then entreated that some one might be sent to apprise his mother of his detention, and the officer promised that it should be done, and the lad, who suffered most on his parent's account, became more appeased, till on being put on board the tender, off the tower, a spectacle presented itself that filled his very soul with disgust. the receiving-ship was an old sloop of war, and in her hold were not less than three hundred human beings crowded together on the shingle ballast, without a single seat except the bundles which some few possessed, and sat upon for safe protection. here were crowded together seamen and landsmen, pickpockets, the refuse of the streets, and shabby-genteel gentlemen. many a countenance was marked by sorrow, but the principal portion was composed of wild, reckless, and even lawless, men. the gratings were over the hatchways, above which sentinels were placed, and the atmosphere in the hold was hot and fetid. several of the impressed men were in a state of intoxication, which produced repeated quarrels; and though there was scarcely room to move, blows were exchanged, and heavy falls upon the shingle or against the timbers in the side caused swollen and blackened eyes, and severe contusions. some had received cuts and injuries in their contest with the gangs, and lacerated faces presented a hideous and sickening spectacle. there was but little light during the day; but when night arrived, only a solitary lantern shed its feeble rays, and the prowling thieves commenced their work of plunder upon their unfortunate fellow-captives. resistance was vain; cries of distress arose, but they were quickly subdued; two or three held down the victim whilst his pockets were rifled: the means of obtaining liquor were thus in the power of the abandoned; nor was it scantily, though stealthily supplied; and drunkenness increased the disorder that prevailed till a general fight took place, which was only quelled by an armed party of seamen being sent down to preserve order. [illustration: frank and sambo, attacked by ruffians, in the hold of the tender.] horrible, indeed, was that night to poor frank. to sleep was impossible. the noise was almost deafening; and his heart sickened at the oaths and imprecations he was compelled to hear. a miscreant had forcibly grappled with him and demanded his money; but sambo, who had patiently borne with the jokes and the taunts, and even the mischievous pranks of his fellow-captives, would not endure this; he manfully resisted, exclaiming, "me young massa good massa for me! ye nebber for do him harm while sambo here!" nor did the youth tamely yield to the plunderers: his spirit was aroused, and placing himself in attitude, he not only repelled the attack, but with determined resolution he stood up to his assailants, whilst the negro dealt out sturdy blows and kept them in check. one fellow was struck down, but another immediately came on, whom frank met with vigorous boldness; and thanks to the instructions of ben, his opponent found that he had both courage and science to contend against; and having no love for fighting, and seeing sambo come to the assistance of his young master, he drew back. but the thieves commenced another desperate attack. one of them rushed in and seized frank by the throat; another gathered up a handful of shingle to throw in his face; whilst a third drew a large knife, and laying hold of the youth's long hair, was about to inflict a deadly wound, when a stout old man-of-war's man, who had been leaning against the mast, suddenly seized the cowardly rascal by the wrist, and twisting his arm round so as nearly to throw him on his back, exclaimed, "avast there, you lubber! do you call that english fashion? bright blades again a countryman's fist? drop the knife, and let the lad alone--drop it, i say!" and another twist compelled the fellow to obey. the seaman gave him a kick in the stern that sent him flying away amongst the crowd, and then springing to frank's rescue, the robbers were driven off. "what cheer, what cheer, my lad, eh?" said the tar, taking the youth's hand; "you tackled to 'em bravely, the picarooning vagabones. but here, keep under my lee, and no soul fore and aft shall mislest you. have you ever been to sea?" "no," returned frank, placing himself by the side of the seaman, "i have never been to sea, but i am the son of a sailor; my father was a lieutenant in the navy." "indeed!" said the tar, "and pray what name did he hail by?--the son of a british officer ought to have better usage." frank felt the justice of the latter remark, but he did not allude to it, and merely replied, "his name was heartwell." "what?" exclaimed the seaman, looking earnestly in the youth's face, "heartwell,--muster frank heartwell as was in the ould robust?" "yes, he was the senior lieutenant of the robust," responded the youth, who had through ben's means made himself acquainted with his father's history. "then i sailed with him," rejoined the tar, "and a better officer never had charge of a quarter-deck. and what's become of him, my boy?" the youth briefly related the circumstances of his father's disappearance, and a conversation ensued, the seaman fully performing his promise to preserve frank from further molestation; he also praised the negro for standing up for his young master, and sambo remarked, "ah massa frank, dis no laand o' liberty board a ship." still frank's wretchedness was great; he reflected on the delightful dictures of enjoyment from universal freedom and equality which monsieur polverel had powerfully delineated, and he contrasted them with the scene before him, where the defenders of their country were treated worse than brutes by the hand of power. it is probable that he would have sunk under the infliction, but the hope that he cherished of seeing his mother come to his rescue. yet even that hope was mingled with many misgivings, lest the officer should not have communicated with her, and he might be sent away without being able to acquaint her where he was. the morning came, a cutter was hauled alongside the tender, and frank and sambo, with about one hundred and fifty others, were put on board; her sails were set, and with a fair breeze she was soon gliding down the river. but frank, though aware that they were on the move, could see nothing of the proceedings; the impressed men were all confined in the hold, and so crowded together that to sit down was impossible. at length they reached the nore, and the impressed hands were transferred to a gun-brig that immediately got under-weigh for the downs. confinement was now at an end, the men were permitted to be on deck, and the refreshing breeze came delightful to the wearied frame of the youth. provisions were also served out, and by the time they had reached their first destination he had in a great measure recovered his proper tone. but the brig did not anchor here; a signal was made for her to proceed to plymouth, and without delay she made sail through the straits of dover. the noble white cliffs and the beautiful scenery of the coast delighted frank. the sun sparkled upon the waves of the blue ocean, and threw its golden gleams upon the fertile land of his nativity, whose lofty barriers rose in grandeur to defend its shores, and whose "wooden walls" floated in pride to protect its commerce. the horizon was studded with the white sails of distant vessels, and the ships as they approached or passed, hoisting their ensigns, gave a bright break in the picture. still the thoughts of his mother's uneasiness operated on frank's heart, and he determined to write to her as soon as they got to plymouth; but even this satisfaction was denied to him, for when abreast of torbay a seventy-four came out and received a draft of hands from the brig, amongst whom was the disappointed lad and the negro, and without communicating with the shore she spread her canvas for the mediterranean. this preyed upon the lad's mind, but no time was allowed him to indulge in dejection; he was ordered to go to the purser's steward and get supplied with sailor's apparel, which having dressed himself in, he was mustered before the first lieutenant, who questioned him as to his abilities in order to give him a station. frank at once told him he was the son of an officer, and had never been to sea before; he named his father, and as the circumstances of his disappearance were pretty well known, mr. evans not only took the lad by the hand, but declared himself an old friend and messmate of mr. heartwell's, and the emotion he evinced plainly indicated what his feelings towards him were. he was requested to stand on one side till the muster was over, when the lieutenant introduced him to the captain, a noble and generous-minded seaman, who listened with attention and commiseration to frank's narrative, inquired whether he wished to continue in the service, and finding the lad was desirous to do so he sent for the clerk, and the rating of midshipman was entered against the name of frank in the muster-book. it would be impossible to describe the varied feelings of frank at this favourable change in his fortune, which he regretted he could not at once communicate to his mother. on the passage out, however, they fell in with a corvette homeward bound, and the newly-made midshipman having a letter ready written describing the events that had occurred, he was enabled to send it by this conveyance, and his mind became more tranquil, and his heart more buoyant. as for sambo, he was very soon reconciled to his lot, especially when he saw that his young friend and master was made an officer, and treated with kindness and respect. the negro was stationed in the main-top, and showed himself desirous to learn his duty. history has recorded the events connected with the occupation of toulon by the allied forces; and here it was that frank first beheld a scene of warfare. splendid was the spectacle to his young and ardent mind. there lay the combined fleets of england and spain, their bright colours and floating pennants flashing in the sun; whilst in the background rose the almost perpendicular mountains of granite, relieved at the base by the white batteries and buildings of the town. as they approached the noble harbour, the smoke from the cannon and musketry proclaimed that active hostility was going on; and frank felt his heart swell at the thoughts of being engaged with the enemies of his country. they had scarcely moored the ship, when reinforcements were demanded for the shore; and a party of seamen and marines was landed under the command of lieutenant evans, and frank was permitted to accompany him on duty in the town. here he had indeed opportunity of beholding all the pomp, the circumstances, and the cruelties of war; for scarcely a day passed that did not bring with it a skirmish with the enemy. it was not, however, till several weeks had elapsed that frank was engaged in hostility. it was on the night of the sortie made by general o'hara against the masked battery that had been constructed by buonaparte to play upon fort malbosquet. armed with a cutlass, a brace of pistols, and a pike, the young midshipman accompanied his party to the attack. he felt that he was now an officer in the service of his country; and though his heart palpitated at the thoughts of going into battle, he determined not to flinch. the night was dark; and silently and stealthily they proceeded up the mountain. this enemy had suspected the design, and were in readiness to receive them; and then began the terrible affray. frank kept as close to mr. evans as he could; he had in some measure become used to the peals of musketry, but not to the consequences of the murderous discharge; and his heart quailed when he beheld body after body rolling down the declivity, and heard the shrieks of the wounded as they lay bleeding on the ground, or fell from crag to crag mangled and dying. this dread did not last long, for he was hurled into the very thick of the mêlée, and desperation lent strength to his arm. encouraged by mr. evans, who cheered on his men, he rushed forward with the advance, his spirit rising as the strife increased. for a short time he was separated from the lieutenant, but the tide of contest ranging back, he once more joined him at the moment that he had been brought to the earth by a blow from the butt of a french musket; and the soldier was about to repeat the stroke, when frank with his pike charged with the utmost violence he could muster against the man; the sharpened iron entered his breast so as to throw the soldier off his balance, the blow descended short of the intended victim, and the weapon was shattered to pieces. but the french soldier was not defeated; and snatching at the prostrate officer's sword he possessed himself of it, and prepared to take ample revenge on the stripling who had no other weapon to oppose to his gigantic strength than his cutlass. frank gazed at his powerful adversary and believed his last hour was come; but he determined not to abandon the lieutenant. one thought--one moment's thought of his mother intruded--a pang of bitterness and anguish passed through his heart; and then placing himself on the defensive, and purposing if possible to elude his enemy by activity, he saw him advance. at this instant, however, a british corporal interposed, and lunged at the frenchman with his bayonet; but the brave fellow had been previously wounded and his strength was failing him; still his spirit was indomitable, and a sharp conflict ensued, frank occasionally getting a cut at the frenchman, whose superior fencing gave him an admirable command of his weapon; and the youth with horror saw the sword of mr. evans passed through and through the body of the corporal: it was done with the rapidity of lightning, and the gallant man fell to the ground with one deep and parting groan. a laugh--a horrible laugh of triumph issued from the enemy as he now considered his young victim safe to satiate his revenge. the body of the lieutenant lay between them; and as he began to give tokens of returning animation, the soldier seemed undecided whether he should attack the youth or give the officer the _coup-de-grace_. frank beheld him advance--he would not retreat, but with cool determination parried the thrust; but the superior strength of his opponent prevailed; his guard was beat down, and the sword that had so recently taken life was again wet with blood; the youth was borne backward on its point, and in all probability another second would have stretched him lifeless by the side of mr. evans, had not a bold athletic seaman flung himself against the soldier, who promptly recovered his blade, but not till he was staggered by a blow from the tar, who shouted in a voice that frank instantly recognised, "ware hawse, you lubber--puckalow that--what's the odds, so as you're happy?"--it was ben brailsford. a cry of delight burst from the youth as he incautiously hailed his old companion; for ben was not aware who it was that he had preserved; but on hearing the well-remembered tongue of his young friend, he turned suddenly round. the frenchman instantly perceived his advantage, and made a pass that must have dangerously wounded if not killed the worthy seaman, but that the tar, intuitively sensible of his error, sprang on one side, and the sword of his antagonist did but graze his arm. for several minutes the conflict was desperate; ben was unskilled in the practices of scientific fencing, but he was perfect master of the guards and cuts; and the frenchman's vigour began to relax through the wounds he had received, and the excessive exertions he had undergone. at last finding resistance futile, the soldier dropped the point of his sword in token of surrender, and the seaman, after disarming him, hastened to the side of the youth, who had fallen to the ground inanimate. the livery--out of london. at my friend the squire's, when he lived down at grassby farm in cheshire, i was a constant visitor; and for nothing was that pleasant hospitable house more remarkable than for the eccentric animals that found their way into it, whether as guests or as servants. of both classes, in the course of a very few years, there were several queer specimens. i laugh as i recal them to mind. delightful grassby, what joyous hours have rolled away there! well content should i have been to have remained a welcome guest there for ever, if i could but have secured the privilege of dining as sparingly as i liked, and of taking just as few glasses of the old ale or the old port as suited _me_, rather than my friend. but with the old-fashioned notions of hospitality prevalent there, the comfort of "enough" was out of the question. it was a word never used at the squire's table. if you desired to taste a second or a third dish, good bountiful mrs. n. sent you a second or third _dinner_; and not to eat _all_ that was placed before you, though already long past the point where appetite and desire cease, was to break through every principle of their establishment, and violate all their simple ideas of etiquette and good breeding. if you left the remaining wing of the turkey, they would be wretched for the rest of the day--"you didn't like it," "you were not comfortable." after a year or two, mrs. n. did so far relax, and mingle mercy with her hospitality, as to say when placing two ribs of roast beef upon one's plate, "i hope if there's more than you wish for, that you won't scruple to leave it." the reader will be lucky if he can secure as much indulgence as this, at many country-houses where old fashions and principles yet prevail, and my lady bountiful reigns supreme. consequences the most alarming sometimes ensued from this sense of the necessity of consuming whatsoever was placed before you by your host. a travelling acquaintance of the squire's (one mr. joseph miller) paid him a flying visit one morning; and as he could not possibly stay one moment, and insisted upon not taking any refreshment at all, he was let off with a tankard of ale, and some of the finest cheese in the county. the traveller threw upward a look of despair as he saw about half a magnificent "cheshire" introduced to his notice; but as time was precious, he went to work, and ate with vigour for half-an-hour, when the postboy knocked to remind him of the necessity of completing that stage in a given time, or the journey would be fruitless. the answer returned was, that the traveller "would come as soon as he could;" and upon the cheese he fell again with increased energy. another thirty minutes elapsed, when he paused to gaze, with evident symptoms of exhaustion, on the semicircle of cheshire, not yet visibly diminished; a second rap now summoned him, but his reply was an anxious, hopeless look, and the faint ejaculation "wait!" the attack on the cheese was once more renewed, but by no means fiercely. "gad," cried the squire, at last, "had i guessed you could ha' staid so long, we'd a hastened dinner a bit." "so long!" exclaimed the traveller in a tone of despair; "let me tell you such a piece of cheese as that isn't to be got through so soon as you think for!" another case, and a still more piteous one, was that of a young and simple damsel from a neighbouring county, who brought with her to grassby farm the established consciousness (prevailing still over a large portion of the country) of the unpardonable rudeness of sending away anything presented by the host. accordingly, one day at dinner, when cheese was sent round, and a plate containing several pieces was handed to the young lady, she presumed it to be meant for her, and as in duty bound devoured the whole supply. it so happened that she did not visit at the squire's again for some considerable time; and then, when remonstrated with for not calling upon her friends at the farm, she said, "well, i will call, i shall be delighted to dine with you again; but--pray don't give me so much cheese!" all who entered the farm seemed alike under the influence of one dreary and imperative necessity; that they must take whatever was offered them--which never failed to be too much. a french gentleman one evening underwent with exemplary politeness the martyrdom of drinking sixteen cups of tea, simply from not knowing that he was expected, when tired, to put the spoon in the cup. this at last he did, by mere accident, or good mrs. n. would have gone on pouring out for him all night, to her great felicity. [illustration] never but once--only once--was that excellent lady convicted of a fit of moderation in the arrangements of her table, and that was when some fine london acquaintances had been persuading her to transform a rustic lout of a stripling into a page, and assuring her that thick pieces of bread at dinner were quite barbarous and vulgar. she did so far forget her original nature, as to decorate the boy with roley-poley buttons, to turn his christian name of colin into the surname of collins, and to admonish him on the subject of bread thus--"collins, don't cut up so many loaves when we have company at dinner; i don't like very small pieces, but then there shouldn't be too many; you should _count heads_; you must know how much bread will be wanted, and cut accordingly. now mind!" kind, hospitable dame, how was she punished for her precaution! when the next dinner-party assembled, and a dozen persons had taken their seats at the table, collins proceeded to hand the bread round after the provincial fashion of twenty years ago; but by the time he reached his mistress, the last person of the dozen, the bread was gone. "collins," said she, in a low discreet whisper, "some bread, some more bread." collins's whisper in reply was meant to be equally discreet, but it was more audible. "please, ma'am, i did count heads, and cut twelve bits, but that 'ere gentleman _has took two pieces_!" collins, the page, was but the folly of a day; he speedily disappeared; yet there remained for some time in the heart of his mistress a lurking desire to engraft a few of the best london usages upon the more substantial country customs, and if not to keep pace with the spirit of the present age, at least to emerge out of the deep recesses of the past. robin, the successor of collins, was a victim to this spirit of innovation. he was a rustic of one idea; which was, to do whatever he was ordered as well as he could. if told to make haste, he would simply start off at the top of his speed; if told to fly, he would assuredly attempt with his arms and coatflaps an imitation of the action of a bird, and fly as well as he was able. he understood all instructions literally; robin had no imagination. to bring in everything upon a waiter, was an order he could easily comprehend; mistake was impossible. "well, i declare!" cried mrs. n. to some visitors one morning, "you haven't yet seen my pets;" (some pups of an illustrious breed, that had just seen the light;) "robin, bring in the pets--they are miracles." there was considerable delay, however, in the execution of this order; and more than one inquiry went forth, why robin did not bring in the pups. at last, when curiosity was at its height, and expectation on tiptoe, robin did contrive, after a "to do" outside the door, to make a formal appearance with the pups, and to explain the delay:--"here be pups, ma'am, only dang it they won't keep on waiter." [illustration] where the squire picked up the imperturbable who came next, i never understood. at this distance of time it is not unreasonable to doubt whether he was in reality a human being; he might have been a talking automaton. he never appeared to have "organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions;" he seemed to be simply a thing of clock-work. "master wants a bit more muffin," or "the ice has broke and master's drownded in the pond," would be uttered by him in exactly the same formal tone of voice, with exactly the same stiff and deliberate air. it was all one to him whether he had to announce--"there's a cricket-match on the common," or "the french have landed." never shall i forget his walking into the room one day, an hour after dinner, and fixing himself beside his master's chair while the squire was telling us one of his sporting stories which were sometimes rather long; waiting patiently until the close for the signal to proceed, and then when the squire had turned round leisurely to know what he wanted, saying in his slow tone, "when i went up stairs, sir, a little while ago, the house was a-fire! it's burning now." [illustration] but i ought to relate one more example of the manner in which the patience of the squire's lady was tried, by the rusticity of her attendants, during the short season of her attempt to elevate her household arrangements into something like fashionable dignity. one day, when the squire had sent off, upon some frivolous errand, every servant in the house except cook and coachman, in dropped a very important visitor who proffered his company at dinner, to the consternation of the lady: hospitable as she was, she was in a dilemma; but it could not be helped. the services of the coachman were duly called into requisition to wait at table, greatly to his chagrin, for he detested the duty, and whenever he chanced to be called upon to perform it, was sure to find some means of letting all the room know that he did. he abhorred indoor work, and took a pride in proclaiming himself to be coachee. on this occasion, having some apple-dumplings to bring in (vulgarities to which the squire was considerably attached), the coachman, not qualified by daily practice for the duty, let some of them slip off the dish; but recovering himself, he contrived to balance the dish as he held it out, and to steady the rolling dumplings therein, with a "who-o, whoo-oo, _whut!_" neither the squire nor his lady ever affected the "gentilities" after this, or allowed their honest hearts to be disconcerted about trifles; and with this last "tray" of domestic awkwardness, i for the present take my leave of the livery. rus in urbe. omnibus chat. "easy travelling this, sir; smooth roads, no turnpikes; no dirt thrown about, no splashing. pleasant for me, who have just arrived from van diemen's land," (we all looked up at our new visitor v. d. l.)--"yes, sir, where they are 'mending their ways,' as you are here, only not quite so fast; haven't got to indian-rubber roads yet, though advanced beyond the point at which the traveller in my legend was obliged to stop." this allusion being evidently preparatory to the production of a story, v. d. l. was invited to explain, which he instantly did by chanting the following legend of van diemen's land. long time ago, when public roads in far van diemen's land, were only fit for frogs and toads, composed of pools and sand; (for folks had not tried newest modes of making wood-ways grand); and narrow wheels, and heavy loads, made ups and downs on every hand: long time ago, when things were so, by some arch wag it was averr'd the following incident occurr'd.- it chanced, on one of old october's days, a traveller was travelling along, and, as he jolted in his strong-spring'd chaise, "beguiled the tedious minutes" with a song: when, lo! a hat upon a pool he sees, that did not seem to feel the "balmy breeze," but in the middle kept its place! as if it had resolved, with honest pride, not to be driven down upon the side, when it might hold the central space. the traveller got out, and took it up,- most strange!--a head beneath the hat appears, whose hair had of the puddle ta'en a sup, and now was weeping dirty-looking tears:- "how?" said the traveller, "why! how is this? you've sunk a precious depth, my friend, in mud; how did you 'come to go' so much amiss, as walk in muddy water--in cold blood?- ye gods! why, sir, you must have been like lead, so deep into this puddle to have gone." "if _i'm so deep_," the other gruffly said, "_where, where, must be the horse that i am on?_" "accidents of that sort will happen in the best regulated countries," remarked a modern traveller, who had now, with an air of subdued jollity, taken his place amongst us, and who was distinguished among his familiars as illustrious tom, "though i can't say i ever witnessed such an adventure in cheapside. but you call to mind a home-adventure, a scene at bolton. most towns, you must know, in almost every county, can boast of their little evening coterie, in which the affairs of the nation are more or less learnedly discussed, and where the wags of the place play off their jokes, practical, comical, or serious. it generally happens, too, that these congregated sons of smoke (for smokers they all are) take up some district name; as the 'bolton trotters,' the 'wigan badgers,' the 'item dolls,' the 'corporation of the king's arms kitchen,' the 'quarter of hundred bricks,' or a hundred other names that might be mentioned; and all these coteries are composed of about the same materials, the doctors, lawyers, retired tradesmen, country squires, and budding wags. it may be my province by and by to detail a few of the farcicalities which i have either taken part in, or heard related by some old brick-badger, trotter, or doll. for the present, here is a tale, related to me with many a deep sigh by an old one, whose trot is now reduced to a most miserable shamble. "it had been a stormy november day, when a commercial traveller alighted at the door of the swan inn. it was almost dark. he was a gentleman from leeds, in the cloth trade, and had ridden over the moors--not as the young ones do now who drive--but on a strong cleveland bay cob, wrapped in a good devon kersey coat, that would defy all weathers, much better than your nasty mackintoshes. well, sir, there was a good deal o' guessing, among us who were having a bit o' trot, at who he was. the waiter was called in, and 'thowt he was a new chap,'--he didn't know him. in about an hour he made his appearance, and begged to be allowed to join us. he was a strapping leeds win'er, and no toy to play with, i assure you. the trotting was very slow for a time, when the bold wag, jem brown, went in to win, and filled his pipe. mr. a., the lawyer, sat on one side the fire; the traveller, in what was called travellers' chair, on the other. up got jem to ring the bell, and then, as he passed by him--'you must have had a rough day,' says jem; 'didn't i see you ride in about an hour ago?' 'mebby ye did, i come in about that toime,' was the answer. 'on a bay cob?' says jem. 'eigh, a did.' 'a clever little hack, i be bound,' says jem again. 'eigh,' rejoins the traveller, 'the fastest in any town he goes inta.' 'wew!' says jem, 'i'll upo'd him a good 'un, but that's going ow'er far.' 'i'll bet a pound on't,' says the traveller. 'nay, i never bet money--but i'll bet brandies round, i've a faster.' 'dun,' says the traveller. 'order in the brandy, and book it,' says mr. a. down went the bet, and down went the brandy, and the horses were ordered out. the traveller was soon mounted, and sure enough it was as nice a tit as onny man need wish throw a leg over. the traveller began to be impatient, when jem at last made his appearance at the door, pipe in hand. what's that your fast hoss? let's see him walk.' on he went. 'here, come back, and come in, for ye've lost.' 'lost, how?' 'why,' says jem, 'mine's been stuck fast at bolton-moor clay-pit this three days, and gone dead this afternoon.' 'a fair trot,' cried the whole party, amidst a roar o' laughter, as jem retreated out o' the way of the strapping and irritated loser. (now it was on the same evening, and at the expense of this same sturdy yorkshireman, to provoke whom was no joke, that a joke was played off, which is commemorated in an oil painting that now hangs up in the commercial room of the swan. mr. a.'s leg was covered with a black silk stocking; the traveller's was cased in stout leather; when a bet was laid that the wearer of the silks would hold his leg longer in hot water than the wearer of the leathers. the experiment was tried in boiling water. in two minutes the yorkshireman was in agony, while the lawyer looked on with astonishing composure-for his was a _cork leg_.") "but a yorkshireman may be a philosopher," observed c.e.w., who now interposed a remark, "and philosophy can stand every description of hot water, save that which love brings us into. practical jokes are of many kinds; a kiss is very often but a practical joke; and as an appropriate successor to your tale of the silk stocking and the boot, let me give you the story of the girl and the philosopher. as kate went tripping up the town (no lassie e'er looked prettier), an "unco chiel" in cap and gown (no mortal e'er looked grittier) accosted kitty in the street, as she was going to cross over, and robb'd her of a kiss--the cheat, saying, "i'm a _philosopher_!" "a what?" said kitty, blushing red, and gave his cap a toss over; "are you? oh, _phi_!" and off she sped, whilst he bewail'd the "_los-oph-er!_" "the learned lover, sir, who bewailed the '_los-oph-er_'(said a visitor, who now favoured us with his company) was the last man in the world to die of love. no man ever died of love, who did not kill himself; and no man ever killed himself, who knew what philosophy was. true philosophy may buy prussic-acid, but, like tantalus, taste not a drop; true philosophy saunters to the serpentine, and then saunters back to supper and a cigar. this," said dr. bulgardo, l.s.d., "i shall endeavour to illustrate in a poetical tribute to the grave of the suicide (who thought better of it). my eye grew as dull as a half-scallop'd oyster, and soon would my death in the _times_ have rejoiced her; so to battersea-fields, for no meadows are moister, i hurried to drown both myself and my woes. down life's sunny stream many seasons i'd floated till pleasures now bored me, on which i had doted; so i vowed that my death should by lovers be quoted where the pale, sentimental asparagus grows. alas! i exclaim'd, with a half-broken hiccup, the soft crumbs of comfort no more can i pick up; my sorrows are mix'd as it were in a tea-cup, without any sugar to take off the taste. but sorrows are often inflicted to try us; kind fortune, invisibly, often stands by us; and now on the roof of the famous eel-pie house the blinker-eyed goddess was luckily placed. she kindly assured me my views were mistaken, that really by betty i wasn't forsaken; so i walk'd back to town and got into the fakenham coach, to return to my betty again. four lovers already had tried to divert her attentions from me, but their eagerness hurt her; she said that she knew that i wouldn't desert her, and now is the suicide gayest of men!" [illustration] a rigid sense of duty. at one of our sea-port towns there stood (and, we believe, doth stand there still) a fort, on the outside of which is a spacious field, overlooking a delightful prospect of land and water. at the time we are speaking of, a major brown was the commandant; and his family being fond of a milk diet, the veteran had several cows that pastured in the land aforesaid; a sentry was placed near the entrance, part of whose duty it was to prevent strangers and stray cattle from trespassing therein. upon one occasion, an irish marine, a stranger to the place, was on guard at this post, and having received the regular orders not to allow any one to go upon the grass but the major's cows, determined to adhere to them strictly. he had not been long at his post, when three elegant young ladies presented themselves at the entrance for the purpose of taking their usual evening walk, and were quickly accosted by the marine with "you can't go there!" "oh! but we may," uttered the ladies with one voice, "we have the privilege to do so." "privilege," repeated the sentry; "fait an' i don't care what ye have, but you mustn't go there, i tell ye; it's major brown's positive orders to the conthrary." "oh--ay--yes--we know that," said the eldest of the ladies with dignity, "but we are major brown's daughters." "ah, well, you don't go in there then anyhow," exclaimed pat, bringing his firelock to the post, "you may be major brown's daughters, but you're not major brown's cows." * * * * * the answer to mr. sly's enigma (in last no.) is a _liquid_[5], which forms the _third_ part of _rum_, the _fourth_ of port, the _fifth_ of _shrub_, the _sixth_ of _brandy_, the _seventh_ of _madeira_, the _eighth_ of _burgundy_, the _ninth_ of _bordeaux_, the _tenth_ of _maraschino_. it is a letter which is not seen in _the alphabet_, forms no part of a _syllable_, and yet is found in _every_ word.--v. d. l. * * * * * "are there two 's's' in st. asaph?" asked lord dunce of a popular humourist, as he was directing a letter to a learned bishop who bore that title. "unless _you_ wish to make an 'ass' of his lordship, decidedly not," was the answer; and lord dunce finished the address without further inquiry. * * * * * [illustration] _driver_ (calling out). tom, is that 'ere elderly lady come, as ve vaited for last trip? _cad_. vel, i _do_ think i sees her a coming. _driver_. but are you sure it's the same? _cad_. oh yes--vy i was in the office ven the governor booked her, by the name o' mrs. toddles, and eh?--hang me if she arn't a toddling off the wrong vay arter all. vel, drive on, ve can't wait for nobody. some people alvers _aire_ too late, and alvers vill be. _driver_. vy, yes, tom; but i reckon it must take _her_ a couple o' hours to put on that bonnet afore she comes out. she must git up a little earlier, or else i should reckimend her to put it on the night afore. [illustration: oh my goodness there is a mouse!!!] [illustration: oh! my good gracious! here is a great "black beadle" !!! !!!!] footnote: [footnote 5: the liquids are "l, m, n, r."--_lindley murray._] [illustration: flying beadles] frights! there is no fever so contagious as fright. it runs, like a bell-wire, through the house, communicating from one line of agitation to another. frights, in a national point of view, are called "clouds on the political horizon." these clouds are very catching; if one nation in europe has the vapours, all have--as we have lately had an opportunity of witnessing. in a civic, or we should say rather in a commercial, sense, frights are called "panics;" they are wonderfully contagious. no sooner is one house in danger, than another feels itself in peril. you walk at such a season through some vast capital, amidst lines of lofty and durable-looking mansions, and every one that begins to totter puts at least a couple in mind of tottering also. as this nods to its fall, that returns the nod instinctively. once set the panic afoot, and each seems inclined to be foremost, rather than hindmost, in the road to ruin; let but a single firm topple down unexpectedly, and its neighbours break too, from nothing but sheer apprehension of breaking. amidst large assemblages of people--in ball-rooms, theatres, often in churches--fright is irresistible in its progress, if once kindled. the cry of "fire," or a sound construed into the cracking of the wainscot, is enough. the strong, the weak, the bold, the nervous, the old stager and the young novice--are all reduced simultaneously to a common level: they become one mass of flying, fluttering, struggling, shrieking, _selfish_ mortality--rushing to the door, and there effectually blocking up the way; each bent on escape, and each helping to render escape impossible; trampling, stifling, crushing one another, in hideous rout and disorder, without one rational idea amongst the bewildered multitude of the reality of the danger, or one courageous impulse to face it. this wild alarm, like jealousy, makes the meat it feeds on. there is something so contradictory in it, that the presence of numbers, which should be its protection, increases its confusion. it sees its own pale, glaring, terror-stricken image in each man's face, and its diseased imagination multiplies the causes of fear, because its effects are manifold. while such panics prevail, as all veracious chronicles show they do, amongst mankind, who shall presume ungallantly to laugh at thy innocent objects of terror, oh, womankind! or, childhood, even at thine! all have their favourite antipathies. gentlemen ere now have been appalled at the sight of a black-bottle; many a lady yet looks aghast at the intrusion of a black-beetle; while the child still screams, affrighted at the idea of black-bogy. leaving the first to the satirist, and the last to the schoolmaster, let us picture to the eyes of ladies a scene, in which every fair reader almost must have been, at least _once_ in her life, an actress. we will suppose that scene to be a lady's "finishing establishment"--for there are no schools now--the school went out of fashion with the shop, and the "establishment" came in with the "depôt" and the "emporium." the group is the prettiest possible, as a specimen of still-life; there is not a whisper, scarcely a motion; the superior is silently calculating the amount of her michaelmas accounts; the assistant is mutely wondering whether young ariosto jackson, whom she met at northampton last holidays, will again be there at the next breaking up; and several young ladies, in process of tuition, are learning irregular verbs by heart, reading treatises abstrusely scientific, and thinking all the time of nothing; when--all of a sudden--but no, that is not the word--quicker than lightning, transformed as by magic, the scene presents to the eye but one image of consternation--to the ear but one note of terror and dismay. in the centre of the sacred apartment has been detected a small sable intruder. a cry of horror from one young lady--"oh! my good gracious, there's a great black _beadle_!" brings every other young lady's heart into her mouth. in an instant the room resounds with wild piercing screams. every chair has its pedestalled votary of fear, its statue of alarm exquisitely embodied; the sofa boasts a rare cluster of affrighted nymphs--more agonised by far than if they had been, by some wicked bachelor of a magician, locked for life into a nunnery. the lady-president, to exhibit an example of presence of mind, has leaped upon a chair for the purpose of pulling the bell; she at the same time conveys a lesson of industry, for she agitates it like a "ringer" pulling for a leg of mutton and trimmings. the bell-rope breaks, and the other is out of reach. the screams increase; the servants are summoned by more names than they were ever christened by. "cook, sarah, betsy, betsy, jane, cook, sarah," are called, together with several domestics who have long since gone away. in the mean time let us snatch a glance at the little dingy contemptible insect, the sable agitator, the christophe of entomology, who has innocently created all this palpitation in tender bosoms, this distortion of beautiful features, this trembling of limbs, and this discord in voices the most musical. he stands a moment stupified, petrified with astonishment at the rush and the roar around him; recovering from his first surprise, he creeps a pace or two in blank perplexity; he wrestles with his fears--for frightened he is out of his little black wits, you may depend upon it--runs here and there, a few inches to the east, and then a few inches westward, to and fro like a bewildered thing; and then making up his mind, "away he cuts" as hard as he can pelt into the obscurest corner. the enemy out of sight, the boldest of the party, after a minute or two, ventures down and makes a desperate rush to the door; others soon follow this heroine's example; and when they reach the landing--there pale, though recent from the roasting jack, and peeping up from one of the lower stairs of the kitchen flight, they perceive the face of the cook--a face whose expression is half curiosity, half fear. aspects of wonder and wo-begone alarm are discernible beyond, and fill up the picture of agitation. "oh, cook! where have you been?" cry the pretty tremblers. "oh, miss! what _is_ the matter?" sighs the cook sentimentally, observing at the same time that "her heart beats that quick as she ain't sure she knows her own name when she hears it." "oh, cook!" cries the least exhausted of the party, "here's a great--here's a great black beadle in the parlour!" on which a very small scream, and a pretty shudder at the recollection, pervade the assembly. "a black-beadle, miss higgins! _is that all_! lauk, well that is disappineting; we thought as you was all a being murdered, and so we couldn't move, we was so frightened. why, i minds a black-beadle no more nor--no more nor--no, that i don't! but if it had bin a hearwig, miss higgins!--ur-r-r-rh! now that's a ruptile as i never could abide!" had we rushed down stairs sooner, just before the first ring of the bell, a kitchen-group might have presented itself, not unworthy of being sketched. there should we have seen a feminine party of four seated round a table spread with solid viands; the actresses have played their parts to perfection; not like unfortunate players on the mimic stage, who raise to their parched lips empty japan cups, and affect to eat large slices of pasteboard turkeys. no; they have, in the fullest sense of the word, _dined_; and are in that delicious state of dreamy repose, induced by a hearty meal, about mid-day in summer, after having risen early and "washed" till twelve! it is at this juncture they hear the loud quick ring of the parlour-bell. at such a moment, when missus know'd they was at dinner! again, again, again; nay, the peal is continuous, and mingled with confused screams. terror and the cold beef combined, strong ale and intense alarm, prevent them from stirring. still the bell rings, the screams continue, and grow more distinct! sarah faints, betsy manages about half a fit, and jane staggers a few paces and falls into the arms of robert the gardener. a jug of ale, which the cook mistakes for water, flung into the face of the fair insensible, causes a sensation that arouses the whole party; and curiosity overcoming fear, leads them towards the stairs, where, hushed and horror-stricken, they await the dread intelligence that "a great black beadle has got into the parlour," his first appearance this season! "had it been a mad dog, indeed!" they all cry. yes, and if it had been merely a tiny puppy with the smallest tin kettle tied to his tail, retreating affrightedly from roguish boys, they themselves would have been thrown into a fright indeed. their instinct would have led them to cry, "oh here's a mad dog," and to run right in his way. every man has his "fright." toads are exceedingly unpopular. the deathwatch, like conscience, doth make cowards of us all. spiders are unwelcome visitors. rats (politics apart) are eminently disagreeable. one of a party who went out to kill buffaloes, happening to run away just as all his courage was required, explained the circumstance to his friends thus: "one man dislikes this, and another man that animal; gentlemen, my antipathy is the buffalo." but in certain climates, people are accustomed to horrors; they sup full of them. nobody there screams out, "oh here's a scorpion!" or "good gracious, here's an alligator!" the visits of such common-places are not angelic, being neither few nor far between. it is only some rarer monster that can hope to make a sensation. now, a hippopotamus, once a season, would come with a forty black-beetle power to an evening party; and a group of timid ladies, kicking the mere crocodiles and rattle-snakes away, may well be imagined rushing into a corner, startled by an unlooked-for intruder, and crying out "oh my! if here isn't a mammoth! mamma! here's a great large leviathan!" [illustration] a peep at a "leg-of-beef shop." it is a melancholy sight to witness the half-starved, anatomical-looking small youths, dressed in every variety of poverty's wardrobe, that linger for hours near a certain little bow-window in st. giles's; where the nobility, gentry, and public are informed that by paying down the sum of threepence they will be allowed peaceably to depart with an imperial pint of leg-of-beef soup in their own jug. it is a moving sight. to see the hungry looks--the earnest gazes, that are darted through that little bow-window--to see with what intense relish they snuff up the odoriferous vapours which occasionally ascend through the gratings beneath that little bow-window, or roll out in their full fragrance through the doorway adjacent to that little bow-window, ensnaring at every other burst some new, hungry, unsuspecting wayfarer--to see this is indeed a moving sight. seldom, very seldom is it the good fortune of these watchful youths to revel in such luxuries as leg-of-beef soup, or its rival, alamode; they are beings destined only to view such things afar off, and make vain speculations upon their ravishing flavour; to contemplate them as amalgams expressly prepared for the affluent--those happy ones who can spend threepence and not feel it. oh! what felicity to be the master of such a shop!--to eat as much as he likes and nothing to pay--to be able to feast his eyesight with the savoury contents of those bright tin kettles when _not_ hungry--to dress in a white apron and striped jacket, and to have supreme command of that ladle--to be able to look sternly upon those perturbed spirits without, and disregard their earnest whisperings of "oh, don't it smell jolly; and warn't that piece prime, though!"--to be able to go on fishing up the delicious morsels with the same provoking coolness. oh! to what joys are some men born! but see. here come two that have had their enjoyment; maybe each has eaten a whole three-penn'orth. no longer do the fumes possess any charm for them; they can now walk composedly past those magic kettles. now, two happy beings are entering the elysium--two whose delights are yet to come. one of them is a dustman in a spotted neckerchief, red wrist-cuffs, and a cap peculiar to gentlemen in that line of business; the other is his lady, glorying in the euphonic name of "doll." see with what a majestic air he strides in and takes his seat, as if he could buy up the whole establishment twice over if he chose. hark with what a lordly voice he calls the waiting-boy, whose benevolent master, for services rendered, rewards him with ninepence per week, and the gratuitous licking of all the crockery soiled on the premises. "vater!" again vociferates he of the neckerchief. "yes, sir," is the reply. "didn't you heear me call vater afore?" "sorry, sir, but the gen'l'm'n as is just gone was agoin' to forget to pay, sir--that's all, sir." "that's nuffin to do vith me. ven i calls 'vater,' i vants yer. i can't afford to vaste my precious breath to no purpose as the members o' parliament do, so just prick up them long ears of your'n, and then i think you'll grow the viser." "yes, sir." "vell, then, bring this here leddy and me a freeha'penny plate each, and two penny crusties, and ven a gen'l'm'n calls agin, listen to his woice, or maybe it's not unpossible he may get his bit o' wittles at some other ho-tel." with another professional "yes, sir," the urchin vanishes from the presence. once more the purveyor's ladle dives into the bright tin kettle. again he tortures the hungry beholders outside the window--as they look on with outstretched necks and spasmodic mouths--with glimpses of its treasures. they see the choice bits of gristle but for an instant, and no more; for whilst gazing at the sight, in a paroxysm of longing and fever of desire, the plates are borne off to that vile dustman. "now, mr. imperence," says the lady, addressing the purveyor's protégé, at the same time, with much dexterity and elegance, converting a fork she has discovered upon the seat into a toothpick. "now, mr. imperence, i hope you've brought a little less paddywack in it than there was yesterday. as will says," she continues, stirring and scrutinising the contents of the plate, "bless'd if this house ain't quite losing its caroter." "brayvo! doll!" ejaculates her lord approvingly, as leaning backwards with extended leg he draws from his pocket a coin of the realm. "here, jist valk yer laziness across the vay, and travel back agin vith a pint of half-and-half. now, vot do you stand ringing o' the money for? do you think other people is as vicked as yerself?"--"th' s'picious little warmint!" rejoins the lady, swallowing a spoonful of the soup with alarming expedition, and fulfilling the purposes of a napkin with the back of her hand. "did you see wot a imperent grin the little beast give?" "never mind, old gal, you get on," responds the dustman, lounging with both elbows upon the table, and regarding with an air of much complacency the thin-visaged youths outside. "you get on, for i must soon be astirring." in due time the boy and the solution of malt and hops present themselves, and after a hearty draught of the grateful beverage, the dustman evinces a disposition to become musical, and whistles an air or two with perhaps rather more of good will than of good taste. he suddenly looks round, and discovering his lady has finished the plate of soup and the last drain of beer also, summons forth the juvenile waiter from behind a little partition, just at the mortifying moment when his tongue is making clean the interiors and exteriors of two recently-used plates. "now, then, young imp, wot's the damage?"--"sixpence, please sir," said the waiter, vainly endeavouring to quiet his tongue, which keeps playing round the sides of his mouth; "two plates and three loaves, please, sir." "we aint had free, you cheating little wagabond!" screams the lady; "we've only had two--you know that!" "oh! beg pardon, ma'am," replies the boy, after a sly lick; "it was t'other box where the gen'lm'n was as had three. fippence, then, please sir--two plates and two new'uns--fippence." "you're a nice sample o' thievery for your age," says the dustman, contemplating the boy with one eye, and then counting out four penny pieces and four farthings with curious deliberation. "you're a nice article to cast a gen'l'm'n's bill. do you happ'n to know a cove in london by the name o' ketch--jack ketch?" "yes, sir." "vell then, the next time as you go his vay, have the goodness to leave your card, and say you was strongly recommended to him by me. now, doll." having delivered himself to this effect, greatly to the moral benefit of the boy, who mechanically replies at the conclusion of it, "yes, sir," with a dignified step he leads the way to the door, merely condescending, as he places his foot upon the sill, to inform the proprietor, that "he's blow'd if there's a worser prog-shop in the whole blessed vurld!" alpha. a few notes on unpaid letters. the penny-postage has already wrought an extraordinary change in the public ideas of the value of money. formerly, according to the old maxim, ninepence was but ninepence; but even twopence has now become a sum sterling, to demand which is to stir men's blood as violently as if the said coins were flung in their faces. to put a letter into the post, and an intimate friend to the expense of twopence, was, only the other day, perfectly natural; under the present system, it is fiendish. a letter sent free costs the sender a penny; to receive a letter not pre-paid, is to expend double the amount. in the degree of attention shown to this little fact, it is not impossible to find a test of the principles of mankind--of the whole corresponding portion of creation at least. the last post-office returns show, that there are upon an average 7654 persons--monsters in the human form, we should rather say--in this metropolis alone, who walk about day by day dropping stampless epistles into ravenous letter-boxes, from sheer misanthropy--hatred of their fellow-creatures; which feeling they are pleased to call forgetfulness, stamplessness, or copperlessness, as convenience may dictate. never become enraged when you receive a missive from one of them--never storm when you pay double--lest you should chance to justify where you mean to condemn. at unpaid letters look not blue, nor call your correspondent scamp; for if you storm, he proves that you received his letter--_with_ "a stamp!" reflect seriously upon the character of such a correspondent. the man whose letters are not pre-paid may be thus denounced:-he is selfish, because he would rather you should pay twice, than that he should pay once. he would rather inflict an injury on his friend, than act fairly himself. he is disloyal, because he ought to grace his letter with the head of his queen, and he declines doing so. he prefers seeing his brother's _two_ pockets picked, to having a hand thrust into one of his own. he is an old fool, who wants to be thought young, and affects carelessness, because it is a youthful fault. rather than take a bottle of wine out of his own cellar, he would drink a couple at his neighbour's expense. sooner than experience a stamp on his toe, he would see his old father's gouty feet trampled on. he is ready to discharge a double-barrelled gun at anybody, to escape a single shot at himself. he would ride his friend's horse fifty miles, to save his own from a journey of five-and-twenty. to avoid an easy leap from the first-floor window, he would doom his nearest connexion to jump from the roof. rather than submit to the privation of half a meal, he would subject any human being to the misery of being dinnerless. he is penny wise and twopence foolish. his penny saved is not a penny got, since the damage he occasions will recoil upon himself. he is more mindful of the flourishing finances of the postmaster-general, than of the scanty funds of individuals who are dear to him. he has no care for the revenue, for he shrinks from prompt payment. he is dishonest, for rather than pay in advance he won't pay at all. * * * * * above all, never listen to anything that may be urged in his defence. never attach the slightest importance to such arguments as these:-he is the best of patriots, because he raises a sinking revenue. he is the best of friends, for he impels all whom he addresses to do good to the state at a slight cost to themselves. he is the most loyal of men, for he cannot bear to part with his queen's likeness, even upon a penny-piece. he is a gentleman, and never has vulgar halfpence within reach. he is kind to street-beggars, and gives away the penny in charity before he can get to the post-office. he is well read in ancient literature, and knows that those who pay beforehand are the worst of paymasters. he is delicate-minded, and feels that a pre-paid letter implies a supposition that the receiver would care about the postage. his house is open to his acquaintances, who write so many notes there that he never has a stamp to use. he scorns to subject the portrait of his lady-sovereign to the indignity of being tattooed like a new-zealander. he is a logician, and maintains that if a penny-postage be a good thing, a twopenny-postage must be exactly twice as good. he enables others to do a double service to their country, rather than by doing half that service himself, prevent them from doing any. he denies himself one pleasure that his fellow-creatures may have two. he sympathises in the postman's joy at the receipt of twopence, as it brings back old times, and restores to him his youth. he is so anxious to write to those he loves, that the stamp, hastily affixed, comes off in the letter-box. signing himself "your most obedient humble servant," of course he dares not take the liberty of paying for what _you_ receive. he is married, and leaves it to bachelors to pay _single_ postage. mark his hand-writing, nevertheless; and when his unpaid epistle arrives, let your answer be, a copy of the "times," supplement and all, sealed up in an unstamped envelope. first discovery of van _demons_' land. by captain marryat, c. b. the vessel rose upon the mountain waves, with her bowsprit pointing up to the northern star, and then plunged down into the trough of the sea, as if she were diving like the porpoises which played across her bows,--shaking and trembling fore and aft as she chopped through the masses of water which impeded her wild course. sea after sea struck her on the chesstree or the beam, pouring over her decks and adding to the accumulation of water in her hold. her sides were without a vestige of paint--her shrouds and standing rigging worn to less than inch-rope; her running rigging as mere threads; the foresail, the only sail set, as thin as gauze. decay was visible in every part of her; her timbers were like touchwood; even her capstan had half rotted away; and her masts might have proved, if once ashore, a safe asylum to colonies of ants and woodpeckers. how then could a vessel in this forlorn condition continue afloat or contend with so fierce a gale? because it was the spectre-ship with her spectre-crew; vanderdecken, in the flying dutchman, still contending against the divine fiat, still persevering in his fatal oath--that he would double the cape. vanderdecken stood at the break of the weather-gangway with his chief officer, jansen, by his side. the crew were most of them sheltering themselves under the weather-side of the deck; their large, flat, pale muffin faces sunk down deep in their chests; shoulders, high and bony; their nether garments like bladders half shrunken, as if there was nothing in them. when they shifted from one part of the deck to the other, their broad, flat feet made no sound as they passed along the planks, which were soft as pith. their dresses were now of the colour of mahogany or chocolate; seaweed was growing here and there on their jackets; and to the seats of their small-clothes, a crop of barnacles had become firmly attached. they all looked melancholy and disheartened; and as they shivered, the rattle of their bones was distinctly to be heard. vanderdecken put his speaking-trumpet to his lips-"another pull of the weather fore-brace," cried he. "yaw, yaw," replied the spectre-crew, put into motion by the order. the boatswain piped belay--the sound could hardly be distinguished, as from long use he had blown away much of the metal of which his pipe was composed. jansen, the mate, looked up at the fore-yard, and then at vanderdecken. he appeared at first irresolute when he looked into the dogged countenance of vanderdecken;--at last, he hitched up his nether garments with both hands, and spoke--"it won't do, captain vanderdecken,--and the men say it won't do--do you not, my lads, all of you?" "yaw," was the hollow, melancholy response of the seamen. "donder und blitzen--what won't do?" replied the captain. "we must bear up, captain vanderdecken," replied jansen; "the ship leaks like an old sieve; our hold is full of water; the men are worn out; every sail we have has been bent and split; nothing but the foresail left. it's no use, captain vanderdecken, we must bear up and refit." "you forget mine oath," replied vanderdecken, surlily. "hold on, jansen, that sea is aboard of us." jansen shook his three jackets and ten pair of small-clothes, as soon as the drenching had passed over. "i tell you, mynheer vanderdecken, it won't do--we must bear up." "yaw, yaw," responded the crew. "mine oath!" cried the captain again, as he held on by one of the belaying pins. "without sails, without provisions, and without fresh water on board, you cannot keep your oath--which was to double the cape. we must bear up, refit, and then try it again." "mine oath--i have sworn--i cannot--i will not bear up; jansen, hold your tongue." "well, you may keep your oath--for we will bear up for you against your will." "we will! who will? do you mutiny?" "yaw, yaw; we all mutiny," cried the sailors; "we have been now two years trying to double this stormy cape, and never had a dry jacket the whole time; we must mend our small-clothes, and darn our stockings. for two years and more we have had no fresh meat, and that is contrary to the articles. captain vanderdecken we do not mutiny; but we will bear up; with your will, if you please; if not, against your will." "so you mutiny, you ungrateful rascals! well, stop a moment, till i go into my cabin; when i come out again, i will hear what you have to say, and see if any man dares speak;" and captain vanderdecken in a great fury rushed aft and went into his cabin. "i know what he will do, my men," said jansen; "he has gone for his double-barrelled pistols, and will shoot us through the head;--we must not let him come out again." "nein, nein," replied the seamen; and they ran to the cabin-doors, and made them fast, so that vanderdecken could not get out, and could shoot nobody but himself. "now my lads," said jansen, "put the helm up, and square the yards." "what's the course to be, mynheer jansen," asked the man at the helm. "keep her right before it, my man; how's her head now?" "about south-west." "that will do--it will fetch somewhere--she walks fast through it. spielman, heave the log." "what does she go?" "eighty-five miles an hour; but we must allow something for the heave of the sea," replied the second mate. "she don't sail as well as she did; but we are half full of water," replied jansen. [illustration] when a ship runs down more than two degrees of longitude in an hour, it does not take her long to go half round the world. the flying dutchman, as she flew along, was pursued by the demons of the storm visible to the crew on board, although not to mortal eyes: some, with puffed-out cheeks, were urging her through the water; others mouthed and yelled; some kicked her stern in derision; others tumbled and curveted in the air above her--ever keeping pace with the vessel, jibing and jeering at their victory; for the flying dutchman no longer battled against the adverse elements, but at last had yielded to them. the dutchmen cared little for the imps, they were used to them, and they smoked their pipes in silence, all but vanderdecken; the mutiny of the men had put his pipe out. on the second day they had passed cape horn without perceiving it; the wind veered more to the east, and they steered more to the northward. on the fourth evening, the sailor on the look-out at the bow called out "land, hoh!" they steered right for it and entered a large bay; the anchor, in many parts not thicker than a pipe-stem, was dropped, the foresail clued up, and having first armed themselves, the seamen let the captain loose. vanderdecken was as savage as a bear. he ran out with a pistol in each hand, but a pea-jacket was thrown over his head, and he was disarmed. "cowardly villains!" exclaimed the captain, as soon as the jacket was removed; "mutinous scoundrels--" "we return to our duty, captain vanderdecken," replied the crew, "we will obey your orders. what shall we do first? shall we mend the sails, or mend our clothes? shall we darn our stockings, or go on shore for fresh water? shall we caulk the ship, or set up the rigging? speak, captain vanderdecken, you shall order us as you please." "tousend tyfels!" replied vanderdecken, "go to----, all of you." "show us the way, captain, and we will follow you," replied the crew. gradually the captain's wrath was appeased; the ship required refitting and watering; he never could have doubled the cape in the state she was in; the mutiny had prevented his breaking his oath--and now the seamen were obedient. "shall we take possession of the land, in the name of his most christian majesty?" said jansen. "take possession in the name of his satanic majesty," replied vanderdecken, turning sulkily away. the captain had not quite recovered his good-humour--he returned to his cabin, mixed a tumbler of brandy and gunpowder, set fire to it, and drank it off--this tisane cooled him down, and when he came out, the crew perceived that all was right, so they went aft and touched their hats. "liberty on shore for an hour or two if you please," said they; "it's a long while that we've been treading the planks." "yes, you may go; but i'll keelhaul every man who's not off to his work by daylight--recollect that," replied vanderdecken. donder und blitzen--we will all be on board, captain. "they be queer sort of people in this country," observed jansen, who had been surveying the shore of the bay with his telescope. "i can't make them out at all. i see them put their heads down close to the ground, and then they stand up again; they wear their breeches very low, and yet they jump remarkably well--hundred tousend tyfels!" continued he, as he looked through the telescope again; "there's one of them six feet high at least, and he has jumped twenty yards. it can't be a woman--if she is, what a springy partner she would make in a dance!" "we'll take the fiddle and schnapps on shore, and have a dance with the natives," cried the boatswain. "mind you behave civilly and make friends with them," said vanderdecken; "don't be rude to the women." "nein, mynheer," replied the crew, who now lowered the boats and were very soon pulling for the shore--every man with his pipe in his mouth. the spectre-crew gained the beach--quitted the boat, and took up a position under a high rock. the pipes were refilled--the schnapps handed round, and very soon they were as jolly as ghosts could be. "come, jansen, give us a song," cried spielman; "and you, dirk spattrel, keep company with your fiddle." "my windpipe is not quite so fresh as it was once," said jansen, putting his bony fingers up to his neck, "but here goes:- "in spite of wind and weather, in spite of mountain waves, if our timbers hold together and we sink not to our graves; the cape we still will double, boys, the stormy cape we'll clear,- who cares for toil or trouble, boys, who thinks of watery bier? "we left our wives behind us, bright india's realms to gain, let nothing then remind us of them and home again; close luff'd with well-set sails, lads, we still our course will steer, and beaten back by adverse gales, lads, cry 'thus, boys, and so near.' "who cares for mocking billows, or demons of the deep? one half sleep on our pillows, while t'others deck-watch keep; who cares for lightning's flashing, boys, or noisy thunder's roar? we laugh at wild spray dashing, boys, and clouds that torrents pour. "the ocean is the seaman's slave, though mutiny it may; our beast of burden is the wave as well by night as day; to round the cape we'll reckon, lads, for so our captain will'd; three cheers for vanderdecken, lads, his vow shall be fulfill'd." "yaw--yaw," cried the crew, "we'll round the cape yet. drink, boys, drink--three cheers for vanderdecken! we'll caulk the old ship; we'll repair our old sail; we'll mend our old clothes; we'll darn our old stockings, and then to sea again. hurrah!--hurrah!" thus did they continue to drink and carouse until, if they had had any eyes left in their head, they never could have seen visually; but ghosts see mentally, and in the midst of their mirth and jollity, they saw some tall objects coming down gradually and peeping over the rocks, probably attracted by the fiddle of dirk spattrel. "the natives!"--cried jansen, "the natives!--now, my men, recollect the captain's orders--don't be rude to the women." "yaw--nein--yaw!" replied the reeling spectres; "oh, nein, but we'll get them down here and have a dance; that's civility all over the world." "but i say," hiccupped spielman, "what rum beggars these islanders be! only look, they are coming down to us, all of their own accord!" this was true enough; a herd of kangaroos, attracted by the sound of the music, but of course not able to distinguish the spectre seamen, who, like all others of a similar nature, were invisible to mortal and to kangaroo eyes, had come down fearlessly to the foot of the rock where the crew were carousing. the dutchmen had never seen an animal so tall which stood erect like a man, and they were all very drunk; it is not therefore surprising that they mistook the kangaroos for natives clothed in skins, and as the broadest part of their dress was down on the ground, of course they fancied they were the women belonging to the island. "strike up, dirk spattrel," cried jansen, taking hold of the paws of one of the kangaroos. "wel sie valtz, fraulein?" the kangaroo started back, although it saw nothing, and of course said nothing. [illustration] "don't be shamming modest, fraulein. now then, strike up, dirk;" and jansen passed his arm round the kangaroo, which appeared very much alarmed, but, seeing nothing, did not hop away. the rest of the seamen seized the other kangaroos by the paws or round the body, and in a short time such a dance was seen as never took place before. some of the kangaroos stood upon their thick tails and kicked at their invisible partners with their hind feet, so as to send their ghostships many yards distant; others hopped and jumped in their fright many feet from the ground, taking their partners with them; others struggled violently to disengage themselves from their unseen assailants. shouts, laughter, and shrieks resounded from the drunken crew at this strange junketting; at last, in their struggling to detain the animals, and the attempts of the frightened kangaroos to escape, the dutchmen found themselves all mounted on the backs of the kangaroos, who, frightened out of their senses, bounded away in every direction. thus did the ball break up, every kangaroo carrying off its partner in a different direction. dirk spattrel was the only one left, but there was a kangaroo also unemployed; determined not to be left behind, the fiddler jumped on its back, and clinging fast by his legs, commenced such a furious screeching upon his instrument that the animal made a bound of nearly forty yards every time, dirk spattrel playing on like one possessed, until he had not only gained, but was far in advance of his brother riders. away they all went over hill and dale, the fiddle still shrieking in advance, until the exhausted animals fell down panting, and the dutchmen, tired with their own exertions, and overcome with liquor, dropped asleep where they fell,--for ghosts do sleep as well as mortal men. the next morning there was no one on board at eight o'clock, and vanderdecken was full of wrath. at last dirk spattrel, the fiddler, made his appearance with the remains of his instrument in his hand. "donder und vind--where are the crew?" cried vanderdecken. "all gone off with the natives," replied the fiddler. "i thought as much," roared vanderdecken, "and now i'll give you something for your good news." vanderdecken seized the end of the fore-brace and commenced a most furious attack upon the shoulders of dirk spattrel. the blows were given with great apparent force, but there was no sound, it was like buffeting a bag of wind; notwithstanding dirk worked round and round, twisting and wincing, and crying, "ah, yaw, ah!" "take that, scoundrel!" cried vanderdecken, as much out of breath as a ghost could be. "they're coming off now, captain," said dirk spattrel, rubbing his shoulders. jansen and the rest of the crew now made their appearance, looking very sheepish. "where have you been, scoundrels?" "mynheer vanderdecken," replied jansen, "the island is peopled with ghosts and goblins, and demons and devils; one of them seized upon each of us and carried us off the lord knows where." "fools!--do you believe in such nonsense as ghosts and spectres?" replied vanderdecken, "or do you think me such an ass as to credit you? who ever saw a ghost or spectre! stuff, jansen, stuff--you ought to be ashamed of yourself." "it's all true, captain; they came down and ran away with us. is it not so, men?" "yaw, yaw," said the crew, "it's all true, captain vanderdecken; they leaped with us as high as the moon." "much higher," cried dirk spattrel. "you're a parcel of lying drunken dogs," roared vanderdecken; "i stop all your leaves--you sha'nt go on shore again." "we don't want," replied jansen, "we will never go on shore at such a place--full of devils--it is really van demon's land;--we will have the fiddle on the forecastle." "nein," replied dirk spattrel, mournfully showing the fragments. "de tyfel," exclaimed jansen, "dat is the worst of all;--now, men, we will work hard and get away from this horrid place." "yaw, yaw," exclaimed the crew. they did work hard; the sails were repaired, the ship was caulked, their clothes were mended, their stockings were darned, and all was ready. the wind blew fiercely from off shore, roaring through the woods, and breaking down heavy branches. vanderdecken held his hand up--"i think there is a light air coming off the land, jansen--man the capstan." "only a cat's paw; it will not fill our sails, captain vanderdecken," replied the mate. the gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in torrents. the wind howled in its rage. "i think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said vanderdecken. "heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. hoist blue peter and fire a gun." a colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head; the match was applied to the gun, which was so honeycombed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. the anchor was hove up by the spectre crew; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlasting doom. and as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus:- away, away! once more away, to beat about by night and day; with joy, the demons' land we leave, again the mountain waves to cleave. with a ha--ha--ha! once more the stormy cape we'll view, again our fearless toil pursue; defy the spirits of the air, who scoffing bid us to despair. with their yaw--yaw--yaw! ha--ha--ha! [illustration] frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter v. ben brailsford lost not a moment in raising the insensible frank in his arms, and was about to quit the ground, when he caught sight of the prostrate lieutenant, who now began to recover something like consciousness. he hesitated to depart, and that hesitation was fatal to their freedom, for the enemy had rallied, and receiving a strong reinforcement, became in turn the assailants. the allies were beaten back, and in a few minutes ben and his young charge were prisoners of war under the guard of the very soldier who had so shortly before been defeated by the seaman. in their progress to the rear they stopped at a dilapidated house near alcoule, which was occupied as an hospital, and frank's wound, which was not very serious, was dressed by a surgeon, and the youth recovered. in the same apartment were several wounded officers, amongst whom were general o'hara and the man who subsequently ruled the destinies of france--napoleon buonaparte. but the young midshipman and his gallant protector were not suffered to remain; they were placed with a number of other prisoners under an escort, and proceeded on towards paris. at louviers they were joined by another detachment from toulon, and amongst them was their old acquaintance sambo. but the negro was not a prisoner: with the cunning of his race, he had no sooner been captured than he declared himself the servant of monsieur polverel, and that being forced into the english service, he was endeavouring to escape. his story was not at first credited; but being recognised by the younger robespierre (then acting as the chief of the commissariat before toulon), who had seen him in paris, he was released. a plausible tale deceived the frenchman, and sambo was sent round to join his master. ben hailed the black with great glee, and frank addressed him, expressing regret at his capture; but the wary negro pretended not to know them, though when they halted for the night, he found means to supply them with provisions, and clean straw to sleep upon. at length they entered paris, and were met by a revolutionary mob which had just been witnessing the feeding of the guillotine with victims from their own body. the appearance of the prisoners was hailed with loud shouts, and numbers of both sexes rushed forward to wreak their still unsatiated vengeance. sambo had stood aloof; but when he saw the extreme danger which his old friends were in, he joined them, fully determined to afford all the protection in his power. the sight of a black seemed to awaken a still greater degree of excitement amongst the rabble, especially as the negro by his position manifested opposition to their designs. yells and shouts arose. "a bas les noirs!" "à la lanterne!" "à la place de grève!" "let us see what colour his blood is!" "an experiment! an experiment!" "away with him to the guillotine!" "we have had no negro yet! an experiment! an experiment!" a desperate rush was made upon them, and both sambo and the young midshipman were separated from the rest and borne away by the mob. it was perhaps well for frank that he had been plundered of his uniform soon after his capture; for such was the demoniac hatred of the english, that, as an officer, he probably might have been torn to pieces. the negro addressed them in their own language, announcing himself a native of san domingo, employed by monsieur polverel, but his voice was drowned in the universal outcry, and then he joined in their shouts of "vive la nation!" sung snatches of revolutionary songs, danced as they danced, and tried by every means to appease their fury. but the wretches wanted to see a black man die; it promised a new sensation. the mob approached the hôtel de ville, when their progress was arrested by a tall man who was supported on a post that elevated him so as to be distinctly conspicuous to all. his dress was shabby in the extreme, and on his head he wore the revolutionary cap, but both frank and the negro instantly recognised monsieur polverel. he spoke to the rabble, and in a vehement address that drew down loud applause he approved of their excesses, whilst the mob, to show that they had fresh victims to immolate, thrust forward the negro and the youth, so that he might see them. polverel instantly descended, and, rushing amongst the throng, clasped the negro in his arms. "what do you?" exclaimed he; "in your just fury the eye of reason is dimmed--is he not a man and a brother?" and again he embraced him, to the great surprise of the black. "cease, my friends," continued polverel; "know ye not that deputies have arrived from san domingo to sit in the great council of the nation? this is one of them; i am a member of the society of 'les amis des noirs,' and know him well." he turned to sambo, "pardon, citizen deputy, the zeal of the people." he took the arm of the astonished negro, and pinching it most unmercifully, shouted "vive le peuple, vive la nation;" the _impressive_ hint was not lost, for sambo's voice rose high in chorus. in an instant the scene was changed, the merciless wretches were diverted from their purpose, and the negro whom they would have murdered in pastime but for this fortunate intervention was raised upon the shoulders of two stout men and greeted with cheers of welcome; they bore him along to the hôtel de ville. in his joy for deliverance sambo forgot his young master, but it was only for the moment; and in turning to look for him, he saw that monsieur polverel had taken him under his protection, and was leading him away from the throng; for the frenchman had not forgotten the obligation he was under to frank for saving him from the fury of an english mob; he withdrew him cautiously from the dangerous company he was in, and placing the youth under the charge of a friend, followed the rabble in order to perfect the rescue of his servant. the person to whose care frank was entrusted was an elderly man apparently verging upon sixty years of age, but there was a keenness in his eye and a vivacity in his manner that manifested an active and intelligent mind; his dress was slovenly, but he wore a handsome tri-color sash round his loins, and carried a red cap in his hand. at first he spoke to frank in french, but something occurring to displease him, he broke out into broad english, and muttered his anathemas against the cause. "you are an englishman, then," said frank, with symptoms of disgust which did not escape the other's notice. "thou art right," returned the man; "i am an englishman by birth, but a citizen of the world--a friend to the whole human race on the principles of universal liberty. expatriated and driven from my country, this noble and enlightened nation has adopted me; and here in brotherly affection i can carry out into practice my theory of the rights of man. what is life, my young friend, without the blessings of freedom!" at this moment a municipal officer, attended by three or four subordinates, stepped up to frank's companion, and, grasping him by the arm, uttered "citizen paine, you are our prisoner." "by whose authority?" demanded the englishman, his face assuming a deadly paleness. "the authority is here," returned the officer, showing a paper with the signature of robespierre attached to it, and, a fiacre immediately stopping by their side, citizen paine was hurried into it and driven off to the luxembourg, where, in the chamber which had been occupied by many a victim to the revolutionary mania, he contemplated the paternal regard of the nation that had adopted him, and sighed for the blessing of that freedom of which he had so vainly boasted. he had sat in judgment on the mock trial of the unfortunate louis, but had given his vote against the monarch's death. this had rendered the ambitious dictator his enemy, and an opportunity was soon sought to take his life. the egotistical boasting of thomas paine afforded a pretext for arresting him; he was sent to prison, and would have been sacrificed by "his friends" but for an accident which saved him. frank, hungry and thirsty, destitute of money, and but with few rags to cover him, now stood alone in one of the by-streets of paris. as evening came on, he crept into the cellar-way of an uninhabited house. at daylight he emerged from his concealment, and proceeded in the same direction in which he had been going when parted from his guide. it was yet early when, on turning a corner, he beheld a well-looking young man, accompanied by a stout amazonian female, who were hurrying forward, but, on seeing the youth, suddenly stopped, and frank felt his arm grasped by the woman, whilst a chuckle of delight escaped from the young man, who uttered in a whisper-"yah no for peak-a me, massa frank, hearee? dere him, massa, for me behind--tan lilly bit become for you." frank stared with astonishment--the voice was that of sambo, but the skin was fair. "how--what is this?" demanded he. "oh, it's all ship-shape enough, master frank," said the woman in a masculine tone, and hitching up her petticoats in true nautical style. "i'm bless'd, young gentleman, but you do shake a cloth or two in the wind--but there, what's the odds so as you're happy? mountseer pulthebell is coming up astarn, and a precious cruise they've had arter you." "yah no for tand palaver here, missy ben," muttered sambo, with a grin of mirth. "golly me black deputy now, and dem debbil take off white head at 'em gullemtine, no sabby de citizen nigger," and he pushed forward with his companion. in spite of all his mishaps frank could not refrain from laughing at the awkwardness of the pretended female, who straddled along with swinging arms, the petticoats evidently embarrassing the wearer. in a few minutes the youth was joined by monsieur polverel, who cautioned him to preserve silence and follow his movements. shortly afterwards he stopped before the entrance of a mean-looking building, and knocking at the door, was immediately admitted. frank followed, and was ushered into an apartment poorly furnished, where he found sambo and the seaman, and learned that polverel, by means of his influence and some little intrigue, had procured ben's release, and disguised in woman's clothes, under the guidance of sambo, whose face was concealed beneath a mask, had got him clear away from present danger. refreshment was ordered, and polverel led frank through the house to some back premises, where the apartments were fitted up in the most elegant style, everything displaying an air of luxury which strongly contrasted with the appearance of the front building, which served as a blind to the populace, who had declared a lasting enmity to all things beyond their own sphere of enjoyment, though themselves were the principal sufferers through the want of demand for their manufactures and the consequent stoppage of industrious labour. here frank and ben remained, and polverel renewed his attempts to undermine the youth's loyalty; he took him with him to the clubs; offers of lucrative appointments were made, powerful inducements were held out, but all were firmly rejected. he loved his country too well to swerve from his allegiance; his heart yearned to see his mother once again; but had there not been these incentives, the horrible atrocities he had witnessed were too deeply impressed upon his mind to permit a willing companionship with the wretches who perpetrated and sanctioned them. in his evening excursions frank had frequently encountered a tall man whose features were familiar to him, and more than once or twice he had observed him enter the house of monsieur polverel. an indefinable curiosity induced him to watch this man, and being on one occasion in a remote part of the room, when he and the deputy came in, he remained perfectly still and undiscovered, and was not long in ascertaining by their conversation that the stranger was an englishman in the pay of the jacobins, and had brought over some important intelligence relative to the designs of the english government, which he was now in a traitorous manner betraying to the enemy. frank scarcely suppressed an indignant exclamation, but fortunately he did suppress it, and rose to quit the room. this was the first intimation they had of his presence, and as he passed the spy the youth looked boldly in his face. in an instant the man's countenance underwent a change; there was the peculiar rolling of the eye which frank had never forgotten, and lawyer brady was revealed before him. the young midshipman now resolved to attempt an escape, and polverel finding that all his endeavours to detain him were useless, at last furnished him with the means. stores were about to be forwarded to the army of the north, and it was proposed that the seaman and his young officer should accompany them; the former habited as a dutchwoman, the latter as a volunteer, taking their chance to slip away wherever and whenever they could; but the very night these arrangements were completed, polverel was seized by order of his _friend_, robespierre, a sham trial was hurried over, and the next day he was consigned to the guillotine. frank did not delay another instant (for he was aware that the property of the deputy would be plundered by the populace), and being provided with the papers furnished by polverel, set out on his journey, accompanied by ben in short petticoats, wooden shoes, and a large hat; his whiskers were shaved off, but he would not part with his tail, and it was therefore braided up round his head, and a fine buxom vrow he made. sambo had no inducement to remain behind; so securing what money he could find, and taking his fiddle, he joined his young master, and all three proceeded on their way. the stores for the army were not ready, and they, therefore, resolved to travel as "independent" characters. in the evening they stopped at a small village, about thirty miles from paris, and entering the kitchen of a cabaret, they ordered supper; but finding they were objects of notice, frank directed sambo to tune his violin, and he chanted forth a chansonette with much taste and feeling, to the great gratification of several young demoiselles, who honoured the performance with applause, and pronounced it "bien bon!" sambo next struck up a lively tune, and footing it first to one and then to another, the company caught up the humour, and to dancing they went with great glee. frank, selecting a pretty little girl for a partner, joined in the sport; and ben, in short, quilted, red petticoats, nearly up to his knees--his stout sustainers covered with blue worsted stockings and heavy sabots--with a tight-fitting woman's jacket and red neckerchief as a body-dress, and his pipe raised in the air, footed it merrily enough to sambo and his violin. frank, in a jacket with silver lace on the collar and cuffs, and diminutive worsted epaulettes on the shoulders--striped gingham trousers, and a tri-color sash round his loins, wheeled with grace and agility through the mazy figures with his beautiful little partner. she was tastefully arrayed in a white frock, embroidered with flowers, (for it was the festival of her tutelar saint,) and her hair was wreathed with vine-leaves, jasmine, and roses. several young females, who had come to visit her on the occasion, were clad in their best attire, and, as a matter of course, the youths of the neighbourhood had joined them after their day's labour; and now they were all in motion, till dark night put an end to the revelry; and the trio, accommodated in a barn, soon forgot their cares and their pleasures in sweet, refreshing sleep. the next morning the three quitted the cabaret--at the door they were accosted by a gendarme; but the youth told his ready tale, showed his papers, and they received no further molestation. numerous were their adventures as they progressed--sometimes in extreme danger of detection--at others, enjoying themselves in perfect confidence. two days they passed in the woods without food, journeying only by night. [illustration: frank, ben, and sambo, amusing the natives. london, tilt & bogue, 86 fleet street.] at length they abandoned the direct road, and kept away to the left for the coast; hoping to reach some place in the neighbourhood of blankenberg, a fishing village on the sea-shore. this they accomplished, and arrived about midnight on the beach, which they crept along, at some distance from the vessels, lest they should be detected. not a boat to suit their purpose could they find at liberty--all were fast secured by chains, and their oars removed, as if some such visitation as the present had been feared. in this dilemma they cautiously returned to the village, and searched amongst the cottages; but here they were again doomed to disappointment, and were about to retreat to some place of concealment till the following night, when the sound of voices was heard in a small cabin, and frank, stealthily approaching to listen, at length got near enough to a chink in the window to see the interior, and ascertained that an englishman, with two females, was endeavouring, by the offer of a considerable sum, to bribe three or four fishermen to convey them either to holland or to england. the men at first seemed disinclined to listen to any proposals that might bring upon them the vengeance of the police, and they talked of surrendering them to the authorities. "that will at once seal my doom!" exclaimed the englishman, in agony. "have not the wretches denounced me, because of the money they owed me, and their base designs upon my child? oh, god! do thou appear for me in this trying moment!" the fishermen consulted together in whispers, whilst the females clung to the englishman; and frank ascertained by their discourse that the elder lady was the wife, and the younger the daughter, of the man. again the latter earnestly urged his appeal to their generosity, their humanity, and every better principle of human nature--the ladies, too, joined their entreaties. frank was half-tempted to the hazardous experiment of bringing up his companions and forcing them into compliance. at length the fishermen consented to embark them for holland, or any place occupied by the allies, on condition that they gave up all the money and every valuable in their possession previously to their departure, and insured a still further sum on reaching a place of safety. elated at the prospect of escape, the terms were immediately complied with; and now frank became aware of the extreme danger he should have incurred had he attempted to attack them, for whilst the englishman and the females were divesting themselves of their cash and every valuable they had, three other athletic men came from an inner apartment--making seven in all--to claim their share of the spoil. as soon as the division had taken place, they departed to launch their boat, commanding the englishman and the ladies to remain quietly in the cottage till they were sent for. frank concealed himself in an adjacent shed, occupied by his companions, till they were gone. "it's all plain enough, young gen'l'man," whispered ben; "they will get the great vessel afloat--come ashore in the punt for the passengers--we must seize on her, shove off, and capture the big craft--then take the ladies on board, and make sail for the north foreland--though the wind is dead again us; but what's the odds--" "that," interrupted frank, "could only be effected by leaving our countryman and the ladies behind; an idea i will not for one moment entertain. remain here--if i want you, i will whistle--then come without delay." the youth returned to the cottage, and addressing the gentleman in french, he acknowledged that he had overheard their scheme, and earnestly implored him to permit himself, a female servant, and a negro, to embark in the same vessel, provided they could gain the consent of the crew. the gentleman steadfastly refused--"he would not endanger his own safety by acceding to it." rather mortified at being thus harshly treated--especially as he knew that he might ensure his own safety by leaving them behind--frank would have answered indignantly, but he preferred remonstrance, avowed himself a royalist desirous of joining the allies, and assured him that no danger could occur by giving his consent. the man continued inflexible, till the ladies, won by the youth's earnestness, interceded, and an unwilling assent was obtained. the light of coming day had become visible when one of the fishermen returned, and great was his apparent vexation to find other suppliants for a passage in the vessel. however, he offered but slight objection, and in a few minutes they were all down on the beach. here a difficulty arose as to their embarkation. the punt would carry no more than two passengers beside the men that pulled, and the gentleman was unwilling to leave either his wife or his daughter behind, nor would the females consent to go without him. "do not fear," said one of the fishermen. "time is precious with us--we ought to be all on board now; and rely upon it we are not such fools as to leave any one behind to betray our movements." the latter argument was the most conclusive, and the gentleman embarked with his wife, leaving his daughter to the care of frank, who spoke soothingly to her, and tried to allay her alarm; he took off his jacket and wrapped it round her shoulders, as a protection from the cold air, and in her fear she clung to his arm whilst he supported her. the punt was not long away--all were soon aboard--the anchor was weighed, and they hauled off from the shore. the father with the females took up his station abaft, whilst frank and his party occupied the midships, and the seaman and the negro were soon fast asleep; but the young midshipman's thoughts were too pleasantly occupied by his escape, and the prospects of an interview with his mother, to compose himself to slumber. another object too now presented itself; it was the fair young creature who had so confidingly clung to him on the beach. however, to prevent observation, and the better to indulge in meditation, he closed his eyes, and pretended to be oblivious to all that passed. whilst thus reclining, he overheard a sort of muttered conversation between two of the fishermen which, though he could only catch disjointed sentences, apprised him that treachery was at work; and he now readily understood the reason that greater obstruction had not been offered to the embarkation. the crew doubted the promise to receive further recompense, and expecting to be rewarded for delivering them up as prisoners, had come to the determination of making for a french port. frank's ears tingled whilst listening to this avowal of abominable treachery, but he cautiously abstained from exciting any suspicion that he was aware of their designs. he determined to watch them narrowly, and when opportunity offered, he got close to ben, who, on making a tack to windward, had roused up, and without mentioning particulars, told him "they were betrayed unless they could master the crew, and directed him to be ready for an attack at a moment's warning." he then briefly conveyed a similar communication to sambo, and vainly tried to catch the eye of the gentleman abaft for the purpose of inciting him to wariness. the breeze was to the northward, with a lee tide running, so that, though apparently working to windward between the sands and the shore, they were rapidly drifting down towards ostend, which was then in the hands of the french. ben comprehended the whole of this in an instant, and saw, what the others, from their want of nautical knowledge, did not observe, that the helmsman frequently edged off from the wind, so as to facilitate their approach to ostend, which was soon upon their lee-bow, and the boat standing for the harbour. the gentleman, wholly insensible to the danger which threatened them, sat between his wife and daughter, and was speaking words of cheering import, relative to their being rescued from the enemy, and the prospect of soon enjoying the comforts of their native land. everything was perfectly tranquil in the vessel, which was lightly dancing over the smooth waters and breaking the sun-light upon its surface. he also remarked upon the quietude of their fellow-passengers, and even ventured a joke upon the apparently solid countenance of the dutchwoman, when suddenly--in an instant, as if madness ruled the moment, they saw her spring to her feet, and, grasping the pump-brake in her hand, she flourished it right and left, laying a fisherman prostrate at every blow. sambo also grappled an opponent, whom he lifted over the gunwale, hurled into the sea and then attacked another, whilst frank rushed aft to the steersman, shouting to the gentleman, "we are englishmen, it is a french port under our lee, and we are betrayed; for the sake of those you love--hurrah!--do not remain inactive." nothing could exceed the amazement of the gentleman at this wholly unexpected occurrence, and his astonishment was still more increased when the supposed dutchwoman, came bounding aft, flourishing her weapon, and shouting in the nautical language of his native land, as he hurled the steersman from his place,--"ware hause, you lubber--what's the odds, so as you're happy?" and taking the tiller, he put the vessel right before the wind. "bear a hand, master frank," continued ben, "and keep her as she goes: and i'm saying, ould gentleman, jist you show yourself smart, and let 'em know as you've a little english blood in your veins. hurrah!--what's the odds?"--and again he rushed forward to assist sambo, who was stoutly contesting it with his foes. british prowess triumphed--the struggle, though severe, did not last long--the blankenbergers were conquered; the punt was cast adrift for those who were swimming--the remainder were bound hand and foot; the sails were trimmed to stand off from the land; and great indeed was the gratitude of the husband and the father, and still more delightful were the acknowledgments of the ladies, when they ascertained the great service that had been rendered to them. mutual explanations ensued--hearty congratulations were given; and in the afternoon they fell in with an english brig which received them all on board. the fishermen, after a sound rope's-ending for their treachery, had their vessel restored; and the rescued party were the next morning gratified by entering the river thames. [illustration] the muffin-man a little man who muffins sold, when i was little too, carried a face of giant mould, but tall he never grew. his arms were legs for strength and size, his coat-tail touch'd his heels; his brows were forests o'er his eyes, his voice like waggon-wheels. when fallen leaves together flock, and gusts begin to squall, and suns go down at six o'clock, you heard his muffin call. born in the equinoctial blast, he came and shook his bell; and with the equinox he pass'd, but whither none could tell. some thought the monster turn'd to dew, when muffins ceased to reign, and lay in buds the summer through till muffin-time again. or satyr, used the woods to rove, or ev'n old caliban; drawn by the lure of oven-stove to be a muffin-man. the dwarf was not a churlish elf, who thought folks stared to scoff; but used deformity itself to set his muffins off. he stood at doors, and talk'd with cooks, while strangers took his span, and grimly smiled with childhood's looks at him, the muffin-man. when others fled from nipping frost, and fled from drenching skies, and when in fogs the street was lost, you saw his figure rise. one night his tinkle did not sound, he fail'd each 'custom'd door; 'twas first of an eternal round of nights he walk'd no more. when, borne in arms, my infant eye the restless search began, the nursery-maid was wont to cry, "see john, the muffin-man!" my path, with things familiar spread, death's foot had seldom cross'd; and when they said that john was dead, i stood in wonder lost. new muffin-men from lamp to lamp, with careless glance i scan; for none can ever raze thy stamp, oh john, thou muffin-man! thou standest snatch'd from time and storm, a statue of the soul; and round thy carved and goblin form, past days--past days unroll. we will not part--affection dim this song shall help to fan; and memory, firmer bound to him, shall keep her muffin-man. a tiger-hunt in england. "who has let loose my tiger?" demanded sir pimpleton pettibones of his butler, whom he had summoned to the breakfast parlour by the sound of the bell in a manner that indicated great impatience. "who has dared to let him loose? i locked him up last night for robbing the larder, and this morning he is missing; where is he?" the butler obsequiously bowed. "extremely sorry, sir pimpleton; but really, sir pimpleton, i am ignorant and innocent of the whole affair." "somebody must have let him out," responded the irascible baronet, "and i shall be too late for the meet. let search be instantly made--such a tiger as that is not to be caught every day." the butler bowed and withdrew; whilst his master, arrayed in a scarlet hunting-coat, sat down to his repast, venting imprecations upon the tiger, whom he declared it was his determination to catch before he should accomplish further mischief. this happened at a beautiful mansion in kent, whither sir pimpleton had gone down for the hunting season, taking his tiger (who was a great favourite) with him. whilst the search was still in progress, word was brought to the baronet that the "creature" had been seen early that morning in the stable-yard, and a beautiful swift-footed pony was missing, which--as the tiger had shown great partiality to horse-flesh--it was supposed he had made away with. "hillio--hillio!--quick--saddle every horse in the stables," shouted the baronet, "we'll scour the country--the game is up--hark forward--hark forward!--yoicks, tally ho!" and away he went with grooms and keepers down to the stalls, where he himself saddled his best hunter, and in a few minutes he was flying away across the park, with a long straggling tail like a comet after him, towards the village. "have you seen my tiger?" demanded the baronet, reining up his gallant steed in front of the pettibones arms, and addressing the landlord--a red, platter-faced man of some seventeen stone; "have you seen him? he broke cover and stole away this morning--he must be prowling somewhere about--have you seen him?" "lor love yer honour, no," responded mine host, with a grin of astonishment and stupidity. "them tigers are thirsty sowls; but he's never been here to drink." "hillio, hillio!" shouted sir pimpleton, as his attendants came riding up, "handle your whips and follow me;" and dismounting, he entered the hostelry, where the good dame was busy in culinary operations. "where's my tiger?" was again the cry. "he's crouching somewhere here." "now laws ha' mercy upon us, i hope not, yer honour!" exclaimed the old dame in dreadful alarm. "what, a real tiger, yer honour? be em a live un or a stuffed un?" "fool!" vociferated the baronet, "a live one to be sure, with large goggle eyes and a fang tooth. i must find his lair." the entire premises were examined, but the tiger was not there. "to horse, to horse," commanded the baronet, to the great relief of the old lady; "and hark ye, dame, if he should come here, shut him up directly, and let me know. away, my men, away." sir pimpleton rushed forth, mounted his horse, and away he scoured like a madman, or what is next of kin to a madman, a break-neck squire. "jeames, jeames," called the hostess as soon as the cavalcade had departed, "come in, jeames, fasten the door, and get thees blunderbusk, and load un wi' bullocks" (bullets probably), "and if so be the crittur comes this way, shoot un, jeames--shoot un without benefit of clargy." on rode the baronet full pelt, and tailing after him followed half-a-dozen attendants in scarlet coats and black velvet caps. the coverts were tried, every nook was searched, but without effect, and they soon afterwards entered another village. "my tiger! my tiger!" exclaimed the baronet as he burst into the first cottage, which contained a female with five or six children playing and sprawling about the floor. "have you seen the tiger? he has broke loose, and cannot be far off." "the tiger!" repeated the woman, terribly alarmed for the safety of her infants, which she speedily gathered up and thrust into a capacious closet. "oh dear, what shall we do!" the cottage was searched, as were also several others, to the great consternation of the villagers. then arose the cries of mothers for "johnnies" and "billies" and "kitties" and "sukies" and "tommies," to collect the stray lambs of the fold, or, in other words, the toddling children that were playing on the green; and in a few minutes not a soul of that population was to be seen. a turnpike was close at hand, and thither sir pimpleton galloped; and after a few words with the 'pikeman, his sonorous voice was heard. "hillio--hillio!--stole away--hark forward--hark forward!" and clapping spurs to his steed, onwards they pressed, flying over hedges and ditches to make a short cut. now it so happened that the hounds of a neighbouring squire were out, and as the muster at the meet was pretty strong, and sir pimpleton was well known for an eccentric, several members of the hunt rode up and inquired "what game they had started?" "a tiger! a tiger!" shouted the baronet; "we're hard upon him--hark forward--yoicks--tally ho!" a tiger-hunt in england was something new in the annals of sporting; and though they thought it strange to chase the animal without dogs, yet they were aware that sir pimpleton had passed many years in the east indies, and probably accustomed to the sport, they concluded it was "all right;" and desirous of witnessing the novelty, many joined in the pursuit, amongst whom was the master of the hounds and his pack. the cavalcade drew near a large town, and in they dashed, the baronet still shouting, out of breath, "the tiger!--the tiger! have you seen my ben--g-g-gal?" the words were quickly caught up; and the announcement that a fierce bengal tiger was adrift in the town spread like wildfire. the tradesmen shut up their shops; the inhabitants fastened their doors; there was a brief running to and fro in terror, but the streets were speedily cleared; and from many an up-stairs window was protruded a blunderbuss, a fowling-piece, or a pistol, the proprietors of which were eagerly intent upon destroying the furious animal, though some few even thus elevated scarcely considered themselves safe from his bound. the cry of the hounds, the shouting of the hunters, the rattling of horses' hoofs upon the stones, and the wailings of women, with the cheers of the men, produced a clamour such as had never before been heard in that place. mothers clasped their children and concealed them in beaufets, or turned them up in press-bedsteads--fathers armed themselves with defensive weapons, and a body of volunteers mustered in the inn yard with loaded muskets, taking good care however to keep the gates shut. "have you seen the tiger?" was still the cry; and sir pimpleton having obtained some information, "stole away--hark forward," was again the word. they shot up shooter's-hill without stopping to breathe, and when on the brow, an animal, with apparently a blood-red back, was seen scouring towards blackheath. the baronet, with the lungs of a northerly gale, uttered the "view halloo," which was caught up and repeated by the rest. the hounds gave tongue and made play. it was a beautiful burst. the whip and spur were plied. the steeds, though jaded, knew well by instinct that the "warmint" was in sight, and kept up their speed, and down the hill they swept like a mountain torrent. but the tiger was not to be easily caught. there was no jungle or hollow to hide in, and away he scudded over the heath with great velocity, as if sensible that the enemy was behind him. once he was missed, and it was supposed had run to earth in a sand-pit; but the next moment he was seen on the other side climbing the bank to shorten his distance, and in a few minutes he was over the brow of the hill past the green man, and descending at a tremendous rate. the hunters followed hard upon him, the hounds in full cry, and again rose the shout from a dozen voices--"the tiger! the tiger!" but the tiger had disappeared amongst the horses, and they had now no clue to his advance, except from the amazed spectators, who hastily cleared the road at the novel and somewhat alarming spectacle. "the tiger! the chase!" exclaimed sir pimpleton. three or four hands were extended to point out the direction he had taken; and those who had not "dropped off" still followed the hounds. away they rattled through the broadway, deptford, amidst cries and cheers of "go it, you'll catch him directly. hurrah!" and they once more caught sight of the tiger on the line of road towards new cross. cheerily again sounded the "view halloo,"--the animal seemed to be sensible that his pursuers were spurring in hot haste after him--the turnpike-men enjoyed the sport and threw open their gates--hounds and horses, and men rattled through--the bricklayers' arms, the elephant and castle, westminster-bridge, saw them rush past like a whirlwind, the tiger still in advance; nor did the chase cease till the baronet's town mansion, close to st. james's park, was reached. a reeking pony stood at the door, which was open. sir pimpleton dismounted, cheering the hunters on--the game was all alive; the whole threw themselves from their horses, and hounds and men following, the baronet bounced into the drawing-room, where lady pettibones was receiving morning visits from dashing young spinsters and elderly dowagers. "the tiger--my tiger," exclaimed sir pimpleton, in a wild and loud voice, "he has broke loose, and is now in the house." dreadful was the consternation at this announcement--a mouse crossing the floor would have been terrific, but to have a savage and sanguinary tiger ranging about, the thought was horrible. shrieks and screams abounded--some ladies threw themselves into the arms of the gentlemen, others ran hurriedly about, and many, in their terror, could not distinguish between the ferocious animal and a hound, so as to tell "vich vos the tiger and vich vos the dog." at length, one of the whippers-in rushed through the door-way, exclaiming "we've got him, your honour, they're bringing him along." the confusion grew tenfold. screams and shrieks mingled with the loud cheers of the hunters, and the mouthing of the hounds, when a couple of grooms appeared, dragging in a diminutive being in a scarlet jacket, buckskin tights, and white top-boots, with several dirty and ragged fish hanging by a long string in his hand; they placed him in the middle of the floor right before the baronet, and it was with difficulty that the hounds could be kept off. "you rascal," vociferated sir pimpleton, raising his whip, "what do you mean by leading me such a dance! didn't i lock you up for thieving--didn't i?" "vy yes, your honour," responded this perfect miniature of man; "but afore that, you ordered me to carry a bundle o' red-herrings to town, and give this here letter to deliver to her ladyship, and, when i came back, to bring down the cab; so i only obeyed orders." he held up the letter, and whilst trying to conceal the tattered fish, he looked smirkingly in the baronet's face, and added, "i say, your honour, that 'ere pony's worth his weight in gowld." "be off then, and take every care of him," said the more appeased baronet, looking at the fish and laughing. the lad, winking at the grooms, waited for no further orders. "and now, ladies and gentlemen," continued sir pimpleton, "that is ben gall, my tiger. men, take off the hounds; we have had a capital run, gentlemen, which, no doubt, must have given you good appetites. your horses shall have every attention--refreshment shall be immediately brought up for yourselves--a bumper of brandy round shall open the entertainment, and since we are all here together, why we'll wind up the day like true sons of nimrod after an english tiger hunt." omnibus chat. our monthly chat commences with a short dissertation on a very ample topic-ingenious rogueries. it may be remarked by any one who chooses to note the fact, that the most ingenious rogueries are seldom those which succeed best. the deep-laid scheme will often explode of itself; the right hand that never lost its cunning will sometimes miss its reward; the genius of knavery will walk barefoot, with an appetite as keen as itself; while the common bungler, the blundering rascal, the scoundrel who is idiot also, shall succeed in all his stupid, shallow, contemptible designs, and ride home to dinner quite convinced that, though not strictly honest, he is astonishingly clever, or _talented_--for that is, in these cases, the more orthodox word. it is not the most skilful burglar that safely worms his way to the butler's pantry, or insinuates with most success his hand into the plate-chest; nor is it the most dexterous picker of pockets who is permitted longest to ply his art, or earliest retires upon a pelion of purses piled upon an ossa of bandannas. the blockheads in this, as in some other professions, often carry off the palm. "whom the gods love die young." the thief of high and cultivated talent, the swindler of fine taste and exquisite discernment, is frequently destined to suffer early the fate which considerably later overtakes the fool. somehow the world does not do justice even to its rogues. it refuses to be taken in by the profound rascal, while it readily falls a victim to the veriest dunce in the great school for scoundrels. while we see so many expert horsemen breaking the necks of their nags, or throwing involuntary summersets;--while we observe how extremely careful, and how eminently well skilled, is every captain of every steamer that happens to figure in a horrible collision in broad daylight;--while we are called upon to bear witness to the excessive caution and singular scientific proficiency of every soul associated with a railway; and have to notice besides that all their care, and all their science, has invariably been exercised whenever a frightful accident may have happened upon their beat;--these failures of roguish talent, and misfortunes of accomplished knavery, cease to be peculiarly wonderful. this remark has been suggested by observing the signal failure of a rather ingenious device, put forth in the form of an advertisement in some of the daily papers. it is an invitation to everybody who may chance to possess "unstamped receipts" for sums above £5, to communicate with the advertiser, who is, of course, to reward the production of such documents! any simple person would suppose--as there are very droll specimens of collectors yet alive--more curious by far than any of the curiosities they collect--collectors of turnpike tickets, and of complete sets of checks for readmission to the opera for eleven successive seasons!--that here was a gentleman who had taken a fancy for collecting a perfect set of unstamped receipts from the year 1800 to the present time. a little reflection, however, would show that his object _might_ be to lay informations against the parties who had signed them. the design has been penetrated into still further; for it appears that all parties showing such receipts put themselves in the power of the advertiser, as being equally liable with the signers for accepting them unstamped! yes, we are bound to say that here was considerable ingenuity exercised. here was a stone flung that seemed sure to kill two birds. the possessor of such a document was more than likely to be tempted to show it, by the reward of one sovereign; which the other party could well afford to pay out of the many sovereigns extracted in the shape of penalty from the said producer's pocket--to say nothing of the same amount drawn from the signer of the receipt. since the coaxing cry of "biddy, come and be killed" was first raised, no more seductive snare has been conceived. "i have assembled you," said the considerate proprietor of live stock in the story, "i have assembled you, my pretty birds, to learn from you what sauce you would like to be eaten with." "but we don't want to be eaten," said the birds with one voice. "you wander from the point," was the answer. so, perhaps, would the collector of unstamped receipts have said to the producers. "i have assembled you here to know what you would like to pay me in lieu of the penalty you have incurred." "but we don't want to pay any penalty." "you wander from the point." we have all heard the most scandalous and groundless stories about lawyers;--of opinions delivered concerning the genuineness of a half sovereign, followed by the deduction of six-and-eightpence for the advice;--of thirteen-and-fourpence charged for "attending, consulting, and advising," when the occasion was a splendid dinner given by the client--followed by a demand on the angry client's part for wine had and consumed--and this succeeded in turn by an information against the said client for selling wine without a licence. these, and a thousand such libels, we can all remember; but the reality above recorded is at least as striking as the most ingenious of such fictions. to contrast with the non-success of this wily experiment upon a grand scale, we may cite an instance of equal ingenuity, exercised in a much humbler walk, and taking the form of knavery in its mixed character. we distinctly remember it to have happened. the scene may be a seaport, or the banks of the thames below bridge. a seaman, bearing a huge stone bottle, applies at the nelson's head for a gallon of whisky for captain rope of the matilda, lying off shore--to fill up the bottle already half full. the spirit is duly poured in, and the cash demanded. "oh! the capp'n said nothen about that"--the whisky was to be added to his account, and that was all he knew. but "mine host" did not know the captain well enough, and couldn't let the whisky go. the gallon was therefore poured back again into the landlord's measure, and set aside to be called for. so far there appeared to be no knavery at all; but the spirit so poured back, presently turned out to be, not whisky, but excellent _one-water grog_; for the two-gallon bottle of the sailor contained exactly one gallon of pure water when it was brought in, and one gallon of pure whisky and water when it was taken out. the means in this, as in myriads of cases, are curiously disproportioned to the end. how miserably poor is the prize, considered in reference to the risk; to the cleverness in the invention of the stratagem; to the address demanded for the due execution of it, to the time consumed, the trouble taken, the agencies employed! but the truth is, that the very cleverest rascals are rarely more than half-cunning. the ablest of knaves must be at best half a blockhead. when we remember how the great bardolph, having stolen a lute-case, "carried it twelve miles and sold it for three half-pence," the perilous, profitless, toilsome, half-witted nature of roguery needs no illustration. one would like to have seen him walking back, thirsty and way-wearied, under a broiling sun, and never sure but that the lady who once owned the lute-case might be walking that way too! that famous exploit of master bardolph's ought to be registered in large letters over every judgment-seat, and on the door of every police-office. the record would save much judicial breath, and supersede volumes of admonition. * * * * * shakspeare's illustrations of vice might possibly have led us into a dissertation at least as long upon shakspeare's illustrations of virtue, but that the learned dr. bulgardo here honoured our humble vehicle with his presence, and called general attention to a contrast equally striking, under the following title:-the sister sciences; or, botany and horticulture. by dr. bulgardo, l. s. d., treasurer of several learned societies, and professor of asparagus at the university of battersea. botany. to mary, with a bunch of flowers. nay! say not faded--'tis despair has thus subdued them, for they see that in themselves however fair, they ne'er can hope to equal thee! the rose's joyous blush has fled, with which no other lip could vie; the heartsease turns aside its head, fearing to meet thy deep-blue eye. more sad the myrtle's hue appears, the jasmine's silver star is dim; surpass'd by thee, thou seest the tears that tremble on the harebell's brim. the woodland lily's silver cup was never seen to droop as now, it dares not lift its flowerets up to gaze upon thy gentle brow. how canst thou look thus calmly on, and watch them slowly die the while? recal them yet, ere life be gone, enchantress, with thy sunny smile! horticulture. to molly, with a basket of fruit and vegetables. nay! say not shrivell'd--'tis despair has thus subdued them, for they see that in themselves however fair, they'll ne'er be relish'd, love, like thee! a deeper blush the raspberry paints, pale is the ruddy beetroot's lip; and e'en the red-cheek'd apple faints, as though it suffer'd from the pip. severely frown the baking pears; the artichoke's bold crest is down; the awe-struck medlar wildly stares to see thy cheek a swarthier brown. the icy cucumber is hot, the freckled cauliflower wan; the mushroom has no longer got a single leg to stand upon! see how the rich, round-shoulder'd figs bow to thy figure's graceful swell; the sobbing orange bursts its pigs to find thee such a nonpareil! the sister sciences, female siamese twins, having vanished from the scene, our correspondent, mr. h. g. adams, presented a second specimen of his curious photogenic pictures: a scene near folkstone. [folkstone was made, says tradition, of the "odds and ends" left after the rest of the world was finished; and any one who has visited that jumble of heights and hollows, becomes impressed with the conviction that tradition sometimes speaks the truth.] some weather-beaten men with clothes all tar-ry, keeping a sharp look-out upon the ocean, and little tom, and jack, and bill, and harry, making upon the beach a dire commotion,- dabbling, like dab-chicks, in the billows briny, hunting for crabs, and other things crustaceous, while a newfoundland dog, in sport called "tiny," wags his huge bushy tail, and looks sagacious: here wades a shrimper to his waist in water, there swims a bather, snorting like a grampus; and lo! james muddle, with his wife and daughter, all in a boat, and crying out, "don't swamp us!" far in the offing you may see a cutter, her white sails gleaming like the sea-gull's pinions,- she means to overhaul that craft, with butter laden, and cheese, from swampy scheldt's dominions; i shouldn't wonder if _schiedam_--however, that's not my business;--turn our glances landward, there's farley in his garden--well, i never!- a-talking down the chimney, to my landlord; he says, "i see you've got some greens for dinner, "and pickled pork," but can't say more for coughing; that smoke just serves him right--the prying sinner! he's always jeering folks, and at them scoffing: white cliffs, and houses, underneath and over, and roads that seem to lead to regions airy- old boats converted into roofs, that cover buildings, in shape and size that greatly vary, denote the place, which popular believings point out as being made of ends and leavings. here we were reminded by a particularly ample, and unprecedentedly flaring wood-cut, borne on an appropriate pole past the vehicle, and intended to describe the indescribable effects of the fireworks in the surrey zoological gardens, of a pleasant discourse which we overheard in that suburban retreat. "quite a gem," cried a lady from portland place, contemplating the splendid pictorial model of rome; "really quite a monument of the artist's abilities." "i see _st. paul's_," said a lady from shadwell, who was standing by, looking at the same time at the crowning feature of the picture, "i see st. paul's quite plain, but _where's the monument?_" "how those butcher-boys do ride!" exclaimed an elderly gentleman in the further corner, as one of the blue-frocked fraternity, with basket on arm, and "spur on heel," dashed past at headlong speed. "ay, sir, they ride sharp enough," replied his next neighbour, whose bronzed features and brawny shoulders bespoke him a son of old ocean; "but of all the rough-riding i have ever seen, nothing comes up to a negro boy in the west indies. the negro boys there are the most cunning imps i have ever had to do with. i recollect on my last voyage to jamaica, while my vessel was lying in st. anne's bay, i had to go to port maria to look for some cargo; and on my way thither, near ora cabeça, i came to one of the numerous small rivers that empty themselves into the little bays along the coast--i think it was the salt gut. when at some distance, i had observed a negro boy belabouring a mule most heartily; but before i got up he had left off his thumping and dismounted, and now appeared in earnest talk with his beast, which, with fore-legs stretched out firm, and ears laid down, seemed proof against all arguments to induce him to enter the water. quashie was all animation, and his eyes flashed like fire-flies. "who--o! you no go ober? berry well--me bet you fippenny me make you go--no? why for you no bet?--why for you no go ober?" here the mule shook his ears to drive off the flies, which almost devour the poor animals in that climate. "oh! you do bet--berry well--den me try." the young rascal (he was not more than ten years old) disappeared in the bush, and returned in a few seconds with some strips of fan-weed, a few small pebbles, and a branch of the cactus plant. to put three or four pebbles in each of the mule's ears, and tie them up with the fan-weed, was but the work of a minute. he then jumped on the animal's back, turned round, put the plant to his tail, and off they went, as a negro himself would say, "like mad, massa." into the water they plunged--the little fellow grinning and showing his teeth in perfect ecstasy. out they got on the other side--head and ears down--tail and heels up--and the boy's arms flying about as if they did not belong to him; and i lost sight of him as he went over the rocky steep at full gallop, where one false step would have precipitated them into the sea beneath, from whence there would have been but small chance of escape. no, no, a butcher's boy is nothing to a negro boy--the one may ride like the deuce, but the other is the very deuce himself riding. "did you see any more of him, sir?" inquired a young lady opposite. "yes, madam, about two hours afterwards i reached port maria, and in an open space near the stores, there sat, or rather lay, young quashie eating cakes; and there also stood the mule, eating guinea grass, and looking much more cheerful than when i first saw him at the salt gut. 'well, quashie,' i said, 'you have got here i see, but which of you won?'--'quashie win, massa--quashie never lose.'--'but will he pay?' i inquired.--'quashie pay himself, massa. you see, massa buccra, massa gib quashie tenpenny-bit for grass for mule. quashie bet fippenny him make him go ober de gut--quashie win--quashie hab fippenny for cake, mule hab fippenny for grass.'" "had that defrauded mule, sir," here interposed a stranger, "been born in ireland a brief while ago, he would have fallen to and devoured the young nigger out of hand, for cheating him of half his grass; that is, he would, if he had ever read the ancient records of that country, and become acquainted with the fact i am about to relate--but stay, perhaps you may relish it better in slip-shod verse." the terrific legend of the kilkenny cats. o'flyn she was an irishman, as very well was known, and she lived down by kilkenny, and she lived there all alone, with only six great large tom-cats as knew their ways about, and ev'ry body else besides she scrup'lously shut out. oh, very fond o' cats was she--(and whisky too, 'tis said,) she didn't feed 'em very much, but she comb'd 'em well instead; as may be guess'd, these large tom-cats, they didn't get very sleek upon a combing once a-day, and a "ha'porth" once a-week. now on one dreary winter's night, o'flyn she went to bed, the whisky-bottle under her arm, (the whisky in her head,) the six great large tom-cats they sat all in a dismal row, and horridly glared their hungry eyes--their tails wagg'd to and fro at last one grim greymalkin spoke in accents dire to tell, and dreadful were the words which in his awful whisper fell- when all the other five tom-cats in answer loud did squall, "let's kill her--and let's eat her--body and bones and all!" oh horrible! oh terrible! oh deadly tale to tell! when the sun shone in the window-hole all there seem'd still and well; the cats they sat and lick'd their paws, all in a merry ring, _but nothing else within the place looked like a living thing_; anon they quarrell'd savagely, and spit, and swore, and hollo'd, till at last these six great large tom-cats they one another swallow'd; and nought but one long tail was left in that once peaceful dwelling, and a very tough one too it was--it's the same as i've been telling. [c. b.] [illustration: in the character of marie stuart.] mademoiselle rachel. colley cibber is the best theatrical critic we know, but if he had been asked to describe rachel, we should fancy him falling into one of his old regrets. 'could _how_ rachel spoke be as easily known as _what_ she spoke, then might you see the muse of racine in her triumph, with all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life and charming her beholders. but, alas! since all this is so far out of the reach of description, how shall i show you rachel?' the best attempt _we_ have been able to make, is printed on the opposite page. truth to say, a good portrait, such as one may bind up with one's copy of racine, is the only tolerable criticism after all. so, gentle reader, there is rachel for you: and to flatter your national likings, if you have any, she is in the dress of mary stuart, though the woes of mary stuart are not in racine. quiet, earnest, intense, with a look of passion that has its spring in tenderness, that is just the expression she should wear. it pervaded all her performances, because in all of them she was the woman. there it was, as you see it, when she said for this unhappy _mary_ that she was ready to go to death, for that all which could bind her to the earth had passed away; and as she said it, there came with its choking denial to her heart a sense of the still living capacity for joy or grief about to be quenched for ever. she wore that look, when, in _camille_, she recalled the transient and deceitful dream wherein everything had spoken of her lover, and whispered happy issue to her love. it spread its mournful radiance over her face, when, for the wronged and deserted _hermione_, she told the betrayer that she had loved him in his inconstancy, and with what something surpassing love would she have rewarded his fidelity. je t'aimais inconstant; qu'aurais-je fait fidèle! exquisitely perfect, let us say, was that performance of hermione. sometimes, it will not be heretical to whisper, her genius nodded or even slept: never here. the _roxane_ would not suffer her to do justice to her finest qualities: in the _emilie_ (for she was wilful) she refused herself that justice: in the _marie stuart_ she was unequal: in _camille_, always great undoubtedly, she had yet a very limited range: but in _hermione_, she achieved a triumph of high and finished art, which will never fade from the recollections of those who witnessed it. it occurs to us, as we write, that it was in this very _hermione_ the famous mademoiselle de champmelé won the heart of racine himself, who, after the performance, flung himself at her feet in a transport of gratitude, which soon merged into love. luckless rachel, that champmelé should have been beforehand with her. how the poet would have shaken out love and gratitude upon _her_, from every curl of his full-bottomed peruke! you have heard, no doubt, good reader--if you have not seen this accomplished frenchwoman--that she is a scold, a fury, a womanly kean, in a constant fret of passion. do not believe it. her forte is tenderness: she is much greater in the gentle grasp with which she embraces the whole intention of a part, than in the force with which she gives distinct hits: she is more at home in those emotions we call domestic, than in those which walk away from home on very lofty stilts. how the false notion obtained currency, we do not know. the french critics are men of lively imaginations, and it was perhaps natural that the feeling of that start of surprise with which rachel broke upon them, should seek to ally itself to the occasionally sudden and terrible, the flighty and impetuous, rather than to the various tenderness and quiet truth which gave the actress her lasting victory. what rachel was before she was the first actress of france, probably the reader knows. she sold oranges on the boulevards. her name was rachel felix--an augury of fortune. an early hankering for the stage took her to the gymnase in 1837, where she played bad parts badly enough. not without a gleam of something beyond, however: for sanson the actor happened to see her there, and thought it worth while to take her into teaching. he cured her of a false accent (she was a swiss jewess), and brought her out at the francais in 1838, upon a salary of four thousand francs. she took the audience by storm, and her four thousand went up to a hundred and fifty thousand. long may she flourish, to deserve and to enjoy them. frights!--no. ii. we now propose to turn to other illustrations of fright familiar to every family, and susceptible of description. let us take a night-scene, conjured up by a sudden alarm of thieves! 'tis midnight, and "the very houses seem asleep," out-houses and all. the "quiet family" has attained its utmost pitch of quietness. all sleep soundly, where no sound is heard. a breathless hush pervades the domicile. on a sudden, there is a smart crash, a rattling sound, below. this sleeper starts up in bed; that, darts farther under the clothes. "what's that?" is the inward question of everybody. the thought of thieves occurs to each in turn; one is certain that the area-door has been forced open; another is sure that the back-parlour sash has been raised. they lie still, with panting hearts, and listen. again there is a noise; it is like creaking footsteps on the stairs, or the opening of drawers; then all is silent again, and then the noise is renewed. at last one little quaking miss ventures half-stifled to whisper, "sarah, are you awake?" and sarah faintly answers, "yes, did you hear that?" and both bury themselves in the bed, and dare not breathe. and then they hear a door open softly, and they utter a low cry of terror; and then in another minute the door of their own room opens, and with a loud scream they start up--only to see their dear good mama with a candle in her hand; but she is pale and frightened, and desires to know if _they_ had made the noise--but they had not; only they distinctly heard somebody getting in at the back-door, or the parlour-window. then papa commands the whole assembled family "not to be frightened," and shakes dreadfully--with cold--as he looks at his blunderbuss, and avows his determination to proceed down-stairs. and then there is a "hush!" and a general listening. yes, there _is_ a noise still, and to the stairs he advances; while his better-half lights his way and holds his garments tight to check his desperate enthusiasm; and the eldest daughter hardly ventures beyond the chamber-door, but with astonishing boldness and exemplary daring springs a rattle; and the others hold on each by each, taking fresh fright from one another's fears. what an amount of suffering, dread, terror--is in the bosom of the little quiet family, as down to the scene of danger they creep with tortoise-pace! and what is all this anxiety, this trepidation, this sickness of the heart, for! what has occasioned so terrific a commotion! perhaps the tongs have fallen down, and the clatter has filled their ears with all sorts of imaginary noises! perhaps the cat is clawing at a string tied to the latch of the pantry-door; or perhaps the stupid little kitten, having got her tail into the catch of the last new patent mouse-trap, has dragged that excellent invention off the dresser, and is whisking round at intervals in a wearying and vain endeavour to extricate her unprehensile appendage! "dear me! well i declare how i have been frightening myself!" cries every member of the shivering family; and the very next night, should the very same noises again be heard, the whole frightened family would start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, scream, and spring rattles, exactly as before. where fear has once taken possession, experience does not always make folks wise. [illustration: "thieves"!!!] [illustration: the "strange cat".] let us take for another example of the daily domestic romance-the strange cat. how vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! our elder brother and "the boy" had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail! not "frightened of cats" were we, for we had a favourite one of our own; but _this_--it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then exeter change. their own fears had magnified the "strange cat" into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify _us_--a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. for two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the "young master" and the "young man" marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder--the black tiger of the upper wilderness. as for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. oh horror! a loud knocking was heard above; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of "here it comes!" this was, shall we say _enough_?--it was too much; we turned and _flew_ down-stairs--the last "flight" of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. the street door! no, we could not open it. against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. the hunters were in full cry. down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs--a clatter that rent the roof. what saw we then? not a poor half-starved _frightened_ animal leaping over the banisters to get out of _our_ way, and to escape through the garden-door; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing,--but in its place--_this_! [illustration] this little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized newfoundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see. [illustration] a short cruise at margate. being at margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "the old sailor," down to the "jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired "will you take a trip this morning, sir?" "not if it blows," answered the old sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, "i have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind." the old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could--"here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind." "it would be on possible to move a-head and no breeze, sir." "i don't care for that," rejoined the old sailor, "i am very timid on the water; but if you're sure there's no danger, and it will be quite calm (it was nearly so), i will venture to take a sail." "danger!" repeated the veteran somewhat contemptuously, though there was an expression of doubt and suspicion on his countenance that seemed to say "i think you're a gammoning me."--"what danger can there be when there's hardly wind enough to fill the canvas?" after some further conversation relative to the perils of the ocean, which drew forth some scornful glances from the veteran, we embarked in a pretty green boat, with two masts or poles, one sticking up behind and the other near the middle, to which sails were fastened. whilst hemptage was loosing what we believe is named the main-sail, the old sailor jumped aft to set what he called the "lug mizen," and he was shoving out a pole from the stern, right over the water. we immediately informed the boatman that our companion was "meddling with the things at the other end," and the veteran promptly turned round and exclaimed, "you'd better let that ere alone, sir. you'll find somut as 'ull puzzle you there." "avast, old boy!" returned the old sailor, laughing; "i've rigged out as many bumkins[6] as you have in my time." "ay, ay," drawled out the veteran--"hang me if i didn't think so by the cut of your jib--i thought it was all gammon, and you knowed better than to go sailing without wind." "you have belonged to a man-of-war," said the old sailor, as we were standing off from the shore. "why, yes, i've had a spell at it," returned hemptage somewhat knowingly, "i was in the owld hyacinth with tommy ussher, and a better captain never walked a ship's quarter-deck. i was with him too in the ondaunted frigate up the mediterranean----" "what! were you in her, in frejus bay, when buonaparte embarked for elba?" inquired the old sailor. "why to be sure i was, and remembers it well enough," returned he with animation. "and the first thing boney did when he got aboard was to come forud on to the foksle and have a yarn with the foksle men[7]." "what sort of a man was he?" we asked with quickness. "what sort of a man," reiterated the veteran, "why a stout good-looking chap enough, only very swarthy. them images as the italian boys brings about is very like, only i never seed him in that little cocked hat." "why what did he wear then?" inquired we with some eagerness. "oh he wore a round hat[8]," replied hemptage, "and he used to lean against the breech of the foksle gun and spin yarns with us for the hour together." "well!" we thought, "we never shall have done with boney." we had never drawn him in a round hat, and the temptation was too strong to be resisted--so we have accordingly placed him at the head of this article--and as of course he would have a fashionable beaver, we have given him one of the shape of that period, and placed him in contrast with himself.--boney _versus_ boney--cock'd hat against round. it may be said "what's in a hat?" and when upon the head it becomes a rather important question. in many cases the answer would be "not much," but with respect to napoleon it certainly must be admitted that there was _something_ in it. "but (we asked in continuation of our conversation) how could you talk with buonaparte--did he speak english?" "o yes, pretty well, considering--very well for him," replied hemptage, "he mixed a little of his own lingo up with it--but we made it out. during the passage he used very often to come forud, and he told us he liked english sailors, and one had wounded him once at toulon." fully aware that the fact of napoleon's being wounded at toulon had long been a disputed point, we questioned the man, and received the following statement:-"why," said the veteran, "he told us the english made a _sortie_, as they call it, and drove the french before them. boney run as well as the rest, and an english seaman chaced after him; but whether the man was tired, or thought he'd gone far enough, he didn't know, but he gave him a shove in the starn with his bagonet, and said, 'take that, you french lubber.' the sailor might have killed him if he had been so disposed, but he acted generously and spared his life. 'and,' says boney, 'if ever i could have discovered the man who acted so nobly, i would have made him comfortable for life.' the wound was in his thigh." [illustration] now had that jack tar taken one step further, or have made a deadly thrust, the fate of _major_ buonaparte would have been sealed at toulon, and the world would never have heard of the emperor napoleon. we fancy we hear some of our hibernian friends exclaiming, "faith, then, and it's a pity the sailor didn't know that boney would be after doing so much mischief." thus conversing and moralising, we finished our "short cruise at margate." hemptage is approaching his seventieth year, and his countenance displays the colours of a thorough seaman. he has been several times wounded, but looking hale and hearty. when paid off he was refused a pension--visitors will find him a pleasant shipmate in a trip--and the lovers of the marvellous may enjoy the satisfaction of conversing with a man who has seen and talked with "a live bonyparty." footnotes: [footnote 6: the bumkin is the spar that projects out from the stern to haul the mizen-sheet home.--_naval dictionary._ here, however, it is probable that a _double entendre_ was meant.] [footnote 7: in no. cxliii. of the _united service journal_, sir thomas ussher has given an interesting account of the embarkation and conveyance of napoleon from frejus to elba, in which we find the following passage:--"on arriving alongside, i immediately went up the side to receive the emperor on the quarter-deck. he took his hat off, and bowed to the officers who were assembled on the deck. he then immediately went forward to the forecastle amongst the people, and i found him there talking to some of the men, conversing with those among them who understood a little french."] [footnote 8: in another part of the same article, in the _united service journal_, sir thomas ussher says--"this evening a small trading vessel passed near us, i ordered her to be examined; and as napoleon was anxious to know the news, i desired the captain to be sent on board. napoleon was on the quarter-deck--he had a great coat and round hat on." at another place, after their arrival at elba--"at eight, the emperor asked me for a boat, as he intended taking a walk on the opposite side of the bay. he wore a great coat and a round hat."] epigrams. "buonaparte was certainly, as sir john carr called him, a 'splendid scoundrel,' but he was a scoundrel still."--_daily paper._ not so, for if a scoundrel--doubt who will- napoleon was a scoundrel, _never_ still! _scene_--outside of the greyhound inn. "you'll take a glass of ale or so? here's _double x_ upon the door;" "is there," says john, "then i don't go- it so reminds me of _a score_!" the malady of debt. some people often have, they say, what's call'd the "maladie de pays"- but schneider of his customers was saying, _they_ had the malady _of never paying_. c. h. w. passionate people. "so you will fly out! why can't you be cool like me? what good can passion do? passion's of no use, you impudent, obstinate, overbearing reprobate."--_sir anthony absolute._ of all the evils, all the injuries, all the calamities, by which passionate people are liable to be visited, none are so perilous, so overwhelming, as the encounter with a meek, cool, patient, unanswering adversary--if adversary such a wretch can be called. there is no trial in life like this. the bare idea of it puts one out of temper. to be placed, when in the full swing of a violent fit of rage, when indulging to an excess in the wildest transports of the soul, when giving loose to the most riotous emotions of our nature; to be placed at such a juncture right opposite some cold calm personification of indifference, some compound of sadness and tranquillity, with an air of entire submission, with drooping lids, and perhaps a smile not entirely free from _pity_; to see some such person sitting there imperturbably philosophical, putting the best construction possible upon one's violence, and evidently making silent excuses for one's ungovernable fury! i put it to any rational madman--that is to say to any man i know--whether this be not a species of exasperation too great to be borne, and quite enough to make one start off for niagara, to enjoy the intense satisfaction, the indispensable relief, of jumping down. i wouldn't give one drop of ink for a man who never goes into terrific passions, who never lets his blood boil over, at least now and then; but i should feel peculiar pleasure in hurling any inkstand--the writing-desk would be better--at the head of him whose fury did not instantly become ten thousand times more inflamed by the mere presence of that smooth oily virtue, that "ostentatious meekness," which at once sighs in submissiveness and smiles in superiority. all the mischiefs that arise from the excesses of anger and rage must be conscientiously set down to the account of that provoking passiveness, that calmness which irritates the fiery beholder past endurance. let the physician, who would minister to the mind diseased, take any shape but that. who is there that cannot bear testimony to its galling effects from his own observation or experience! only say to a man in a pet, "now don't lose your temper," and he falls naturally into a rage; say to one already exasperated, and on the verge of a fit of fury, "pray don't put yourself into a passion, it's all a mistake, there's nothing to be angry about;" and what so sure to set him off at a pace past stopping! the image of "patience on a monument smiling at grief" has been greatly admired, but as a design it would hardly hold together for five minutes. shakspeare was a little out for once. patience _smiling_ at grief! how could grief stand it! she would be transformed into rage in no time. if at all in earnest, she must necessarily be provoked to jump down in a paroxysm, or to pitch patience off the monument. to the truly irritable, and i confess that i am one of them, all such irritation, to say the least of it, is superfluous. to us who have "free souls" no such provocation is wanting at any time. we are always ready to go ahead without this high pressure; our quick blood renders the spur unnecessary. we never wait for "the motive and the cue for passion" that hamlet speaks of. the real relish and enjoyment of it consists in going into a rage about nothing. the next pleasure to that consists in being roused to fury about other people's affairs; in lashing oneself into madness about some grievance borne by a person who seems perfectly indifferent to it. there are numbers of people who may be thus said to go into passions by proxy. they have experienced a slight, of which they give a cool account to some susceptible friend, who stamps and raves at every word of the narrative. they calmly inform you that they have been shamefully ill-used; upon which they stroke their chins complacently, and leave you to tear your hair. the man who has been cruelly wronged describes with a glib tongue, while the uninjured auditor disinterestedly gnashes his teeth. i have always admired that passage in one of george colman's plays, where a warm-hearted fellow, giving an account of some flagrant act of oppression to which he had been a witness, observes,--"well, you know, that wasn't _no affair of mine_; no--and _so i felt all my blood creeping into my knuckles_"--and the result shows that he fell, with exemplary promptitude, into a glorious passion in behalf of the oppressed but uncomplaining stranger. this bit of fiction calls to mind a fact which may with no impropriety be here related. it is an anecdote of a distinguished writer now no more, w. g. he had complained to me of some ungracious conduct, by which he felt hurt and insulted; he was helpless, and this made the sense of injury more acute. he spoke with bitterness, though in gentle tones. i did not echo those tones; for he was illustrious by his intellect, and venerable by his years; and, as the phrase is, i at once "rapped out"--pouring a torrent of reproach, and heaping a mountain of invectives, on the heads of those, who, to use his own words, "had dared to put an indignity upon him." he heard me, very quietly, until the full burst of indignation with which his more moderate complaint had inspired me was exhausted, and then said with an ejaculation short, sharp, and peculiar to him,--"i'm afraid you've been picking up some queer doctrines of late; the principle of them is, as far as i can understand, to be discontented with everything!" now as _he_ had taught me just then to be discontented, and as i was moreover only discontented on his account, i did _not_ immediately leap out of my fit of passion into one of philosophy; and i believe he was upon that occasion much struck with certain metaphysical phenomena, on which i left him to brood; with the curious distinction, that is to say, between one fellow-creature undergoing the punishment of the knout without exhibiting a symptom of distress, and another fellow-creature looking on, all grief and anguish, shuddering at the spectacle, and feeling every lash on his own heart. these are the most generous bursts of rage that can be indulged in; and, next to those that are altogether destitute even of the shadow of a cause, are the most delicious to the irritable. the wrongs, troubles, and perversities of individuals, from near relatives to total strangers, generally form a plentiful supply; in fact, the smallest offence will be thankfully received, as the history of irascible people amply shows. very good grounds for anger occur, as we can all remember, when a fellow-traveller at an inn refuses to take mustard with his pork-chop; or when another, in spite of every hint, persists in breaking his eggs at the small end, or lighting his cheroot at the large end; or when a sturdy fellow walks just before you through a smart shower of rain, and won't put his umbrella up, though you obligingly tap him on the shoulder, and remind him that it's pouring; or when an obstinate one declines the adoption of somebody else's opinion, merely because he has not been convinced of its reasonableness; or when an affected one pronounces the word london "lunnun," and birmingham "brummagem," and, while he asserts in his justification that lord brougham calls the places by those names, refuses to distinguish his lordship as lord bruffham. if individual grievances or peculiarities should fail, which is scarcely possible, national ones will do as well. nay, i know a philanthropist whose heart was broken fifty times a year, whose blood boiled hourly, at the recollection of some great outrage that had happened in the dark ages. passion, moreover, has this convenience, that it is an essential privilege of it to reason from the individual to the national; thus, if a russian government, or a russian faction, inflict wrongs on poland, all russia may be indiscriminately condemned; and thus too, if an american visiting this country should be wanting in good manners, or give you any cause of offence, you can with strict propriety launch out into a tirade against the american people, their customs and institutions, laws and dispositions--wrath will there find "elbow room." you may wind up with the observation that, bad as is the brute whom you have just encountered, you believe him to be quite as good as the very best of his countrymen. this, indeed, may be laid down as a rule; when a scotchman offends you, abuse all scotland, and offer to prove that burns was no poet;--when an irishman puts you in a heat, be sure to denounce ireland, and hint that st. patrick was no gentleman, nor were his ancestors decent people. with an englishman the case is rather different, because anything you may say against john bull is pretty sure to please, instead of annoying a member of his family; who won't much mind a back-handed hit at himself, if you direct the principal force of your attack against the national character. it is expedient, therefore, to be less sweeping in your charge, to concentrate your forces, and to content yourself with a small explosion, fatal only to his immediate friends and relations. point out how remarkable it is that so many persons of the same name should have been hanged for sheep-stealing; question the depth of his breeches-pocket, where he rattles a bunch of keys, as though he had anything to lock up; and pick out some cousin of his who is very badly off, and spitefully ask him to dinner. but you will never vent your rage satisfactorily, by merely abusing old england in an englishman's presence. to get into a passion in the street is sometimes peculiarly awkward. it makes you feel like a bottle of soda-water that wants to go off and can't. some people ought to have their hats wired down, cork-fashion. walking with an irascible friend the other day--i am fond of such companions, and can boast a great variety of them--he worked himself into as pretty a specimen of fury as i have lately seen; but what was to be done? there was nothing to cause it, and there was no relief to be had. apple-stalls upset are but vulgar exploits; me, he could not strangle in the open street; there was no temptation to smash a lamp in the broad daylight, however agreeable and comforting at night; there was no loitering schoolboy in the way, to be kicked "for _always_ tieing that shoe;" yet, "as fires imprisoned fiercest burn," out the blaze must burst, the volcano was not to be smothered up. accordingly, just as we reached the open window of a butcher's shop, on the board of which a lad in blue sleeves, and black, glossy, curling hair, sat intently reading the "sorrows of werter," my passionate friend stopped. whether he meant to snatch, a weapon, à la virginius, was doubtful. i thought at least he would have snatched the grease-marked volume out of the hands of the sentimental butcher-boy, and trampled it under-foot; when instead, off he darted across the wide street, i following--rushed up to a house opposite, seized the large knocker, and plied it with the combined force of forty footmen, or a legion of penny-postmen rolled into one! i stood, looking on, amazed, while he knocked and knocked, without one moment's cessation, until the door was torn open, and the knocker dropped from his fingers. the servant-maid looked aghast, yet the accustomed spirit of inquiry, who was he? what _did_ he want? was uppermost in her face. "oh!" said my now subdued companion, "oh! ah!-a-i'm sorry to have troubled you! i-a-i don't want anybody--it's all right--thank you--i'm better now!" thus saying he quietly took my arm, and we sauntered off. i never saw a fellow in a more charming flow of spirits than his were throughout the rest of that day. [illustration] but it is more judicious to choose a spot where you can fall into a rage comfortably. it is a pity for example to get excited at charing-cross, merely by the sight of a dover coach, with the name of the town upon it spelt with two o's, "dovor." "there goes one of those confounded coaches again," said a companion the other day; "how savage they make me! do_vor_! why can't they spell the name properly?" "oh, what does it signify?"--"signify! why it's my native town! it puts me in such a passion that i can't walk;" and by the pace at which he went there appeared a probability of his overtaking the coach. as a man intoxicated can run easily, when walking is difficult, so a man in a passion finds similar relief. i have heard of a nervously-excited individual who was so annoyed by the cry of "bank, bank" all down the strand, that he jumped into one of the vehicles, resolved to go to the bank and draw out his balance; nor did he remember, until he got there, that he had performed that ceremony the day before. what i should respectfully recommend to any one on whom the fit comes suddenly out-of-doors, whether occasioned by some irritating train of thought, or a casual encounter equally provocative, is to go directly home, and give his family the benefit of it. surely the best compliment he can pay his wife is to presume that her attachment to him is so great that she will endure any ill-usage--that she would rather see him return home in a tremendous passion than have him stay longer away from her. a man who truly relishes his fit of rage will find a sweet relief in making his family uncomfortable. the children he can immediately order up to bed in the dark; and if anything in the shape of protest falls from the doting mother, he can take an opportunity, slyly, of upsetting a vase of flowers, water and all, into her work-box, or of tilting the inkstand upon the favourite autograph in her album. in the case of a single man, who has neither fond parent nor devoted partner to vent his fury on, a theatre is no bad resource; he can take his seat in some quiet corner and hiss the performance,--he will find it very soothing to his feelings; but he should choose, if possible, the first night of a new drama, and be constantly on his guard, or he will be tricked out of all his pleasure by the actors. i know a man who went in a great passion on purpose to hiss a new comedy, but being off his guard, he sat and laughed all the evening. brutus desires cassius to "go show his slaves how choleric he is, and make his bondmen tremble;" implying that it was still more vulgar and degrading to go into a passion before servants. this notion prevails amongst a certain class of the choleric to this day. it is not at all uncommon in genteel families, where appearances must at all sacrifices be kept up, for john to be desired to shut the door, and perhaps to be despatched to the remotest part of the house, while his master and mistress sit down to fight out a pitched battle with bated breath; whispering their fierce retorts, and dealing out their virulence _sotto voce_, that it may not reach the kitchen; recrimination, with savage aspect, speaking in the blandest key, and threats of separate maintenance breathing in tones that would have added a delicious tenderness to the fondest sentiment. all of a sudden, perhaps, a violent crash is heard; the lady, who "could bear it no longer," has commenced some sportive sallies with the tea-cups, and the gentleman has promptly followed in some equally lively experiments with the saucers; and john, when in wild alarm he re-enters the apartment, perceives in an instant, as clear as crockery itself, that naughty dash has _not_ been jumping upon the tea-table, and that it is _not_ that calumniated quadruped by whom the best blue-and-gold service has been devoted to destruction. all these tamperings with passion are great mistakes; there can be no enjoyment but in speaking out, and letting all the world hear if they like. i always admired the unhesitating frankness of that respectable tradesman (i forget his name, purposely) who about nine one summer morning, after "some words" with his lady respecting the comparative merits of souchong and mocha, deliberately opened the first floor window, and dashed out the whole breakfast set, tray and all, into one of the leading streets of the metropolis. people, it is said, put up their umbrellas as they pass, to this day, in constant expectation of a milky shower, with small squares of sugar for hailstones. but all such experiments with cups and saucers, glasses, vases, mirrors, &c., are much better performed, for obvious reasons, at other people's houses than at your own. it is very pleasant, and quite pardonable, to sweep a few glasses off the table in a fit of enthusiasm, now and then--when you are dining out; but it is perfectly ridiculous to proceed to such extremities at home, where the modes of venting rage are infinite. for a somewhat similar reason, i differ from those who systematically tear their own hair when they fall into a paroxysm; there is no occasion for it, because you might happen to be wearing a wig, and the effect would be ludicrous. it is far better to thrust your hand desperately into the loose locks of somebody sitting next to you, tearing them violently for the space of an instant, and then apologizing for the wildness of your excitement, and the extreme susceptibility of your feelings. your sensibility and the frankness of your disposition will find many admirers; but to pull your own hair has at best but an affected and theatrical look. the practice common to many of the choleric--that of taking off their hats, flinging them at the first object they see, and then kicking them, regardless of expense--is one that seems to have arisen out of an instinctive feeling, but until lately it was to be condemned as ruinous to those who fall very frequently into a passion; it is less exceptionable now; the cheap hats are immense conveniences to the choleric. it is better however to snatch a friend's off his head, and set your foot upon it, taking care to pick it up immediately, tenderly putting it into shape a little, brushing its injured nap, and returning it with your unfeigned regrets. i should not omit to mention one ingenious expedient, which is sure to produce a speedy relief to over-excited feelings. it is recommended on authority, as infallible. you should first lock the door of your sitting-room, and then lie down on your back upon the rug before the fire--taking at the same time one of the long bell-ropes in either hand. in this position you will find a little violent pulling very pleasant. but don't leave off, merely because everybody in the house comes rattling at the door, desiring to know, not for their own, but for heaven's sake, what's the matter. keep on tugging at both bells, until the door is broken open--you will then come-to quite comfortably. the great have some advantages over the humble, but they lack the luxury of giving a loose to rage at all seasons; they cannot storm and rave at their own sweet will; while the lowest creature committed to prison by the magistrate can always spring from the grasp of the constable and break a window or two. this may seem a poor relief; not so; there is, doubtless, an exquisite satisfaction in knowing that nothing less than a large county must pay the damage. suppose you only shatter a dozen panes, or effect other wilful injury, is there not something grand in being revenged upon middlesex, or venting your fury on all yorkshire? great or humble, rage is sweet to all. anger, not love, is the universal emotion. the mildest and most even-tempered man i ever met, let out the secret of his fiery disposition the other day, and betrayed the violent passions that sometimes seize him. complaining of the extreme smallness of his new library, in a figurative style, at once emphatic and elegant, he said, "it isn't large enough to swing a cat in," adding, (evidently with a reference to his habits when under the influence of passion) "_which is very inconvenient_!" cats are useful animals in a house. is it doubtful, when sir anthony absolute had stormed at the captain, and the captain in consequence had raved at fag, and fag in due succession had pummelled the footboy, that the footboy went forthwith and kicked the cat? l. b. our new cooks! "too many cooks"--"the proverb's something musty." we have just had another new cook; but too sure i am that, like the whole tribe of cooks that enter our family, she will never pass the boundaries of the cognomen "new cook." all our cooks have been _new_. the oldest one we have ever had, in my remembrance, was a prodigy of a month's service in our kitchen; and although it must be confessed that, even during that period, she was twice threatened or _warned_ by my mother, her long stay was astonishing to us all. compared with her predecessors she was quite a fixture in the house. it would take up "too much room in the omnibus," to detail one half of the discrepancies of our cooks. the great cook who circumnavigated the globe--who traversed seas remote, and explored lands unknown, found no such curiosities among the monsters of the great deep, or the uncivilized eccentrics on shore. one, as my maiden aunt delicately observes, becomes quite "inebriated"--off she goes; another has "followers"--off she goes; another increases her "kitchen stuff" at the expense of the fat of the meat, which she cuts off to a nicety (and my father is particularly fond of fat)--off she goes--another cannot cook a potato--off she goes; another forms a clandestine match with the butler after a week's intimacy--off she goes--he too falling a victim and losing his place. when i say that my mother seldom looks over the first offence, i explain pretty clearly how it is that every week finds us with a new cook. on the day of their engagement my sanguine parent invariably tells us "she has found a treasure;" a cook with such a character--never drinks--no followers--so honest--can cook anything;--such a woman for making "made up" (sometimes called french) dishes, &c. in a few days this treasure of a cook turns out to be, without a single exception, the very worst we ever had to endure (for it rather singularly happens that each in succession is "the very worst").--"oh, that dreadful woman!" is the cry. she boils what she should roast, and roasts what she should boil; she is a snuff-taker, and almost everything she cooks is supposed to savour of lundyfoot or prince's mixture. off _she_ goes before we find out a fair half of her intolerable propensities. if it be but a chop to serve up, i like it served up in a style that i can depend upon. underdone or overdone is of less consequence, so that i know beforehand, by experience of the cook's performances, _how_ it will be done. but this continual succession of "treasures" subjects us to a continual series of experiments. if we don't settle soon, the office, so far as our family is concerned, will be in danger of abolition. already has my distracted mother observed, on five different occasions, each time with deeper emphasis, "i _wish_ it were possible to do _without_ a cook." yesterday, when this exclamation escaped her, my father, who, excepting in a taste for fat, is a man of very philosophical notions, caught up the note, and said, doubtingly, "my dear, do you consider it to be _quite_ necessary to have a _dinner_ every day!" the last treasure we had only cooked our dinner on one day! she must have been a practitioner in some wholesale cooking establishment; cook to an ordinary on a grand scale, where dinners for a hundred and forty were daily prepared. we had to dine on cold meat for a week after she left us. you must know, that on the first day of her instalment in office, the butcher had been directed (we lived a few miles from town, and at a distance from any market-place) to send us a supply of animal food sufficient to last for about eight days. there were a leg of mutton--a saddle of mutton--a sirloin of beef--a round of beef, and various small nick-nacks for side dishes. well, my dear credulous mother received the new cook as usual. she found her to be a most enormous treasure; and she can at this day make affidavit, if necessary, that she gave her the proper directions about the dinner. on the day the circumstance i am about to relate took place, we had merely the family at dinner. on entering the dining-room, i observed my mother gently start, as her eye encountered a great number of large dishes round the table. she, however, suppressed her astonishment, took her place at the head of the table (my father never carved), said grace, and was sinking slowly into her chair as the servant raised the first cover. my mother instantly started up, exclaiming, in a tone of alarm, and with turned-up eyes, "mercy on us! the leg of mutton!" all eyes turned in a moment upon the uncovered mutton, and then on my agitated mother. the servant, after a pause, laid his hand on the second cover, upon which my mother had bent her looks. up went the cover amidst curling wreaths of steam. "good gracious! look at the sirloin!" cried my mother. we all looked accordingly at the sirloin, but without discovering in it anything peculiarly different from other sirloins. the removal of the next cover exhibited the round of beef--another exclamation from my mother. we now all commenced staring, first, at the joints, then at my mother, and then at each other. we certainly began to think, when a fourth joint had appeared in view, that there _was_ "something wrong." a pause ensued--my father broke it. "in the name of wonder," said he, "what's the matter?" "o that new cook," answered my mother, with a groan. "what has she _done_?" inquired my father. "_the whole weeks marketing!_" said my mother, sinking into her chair, for she had been standing all this time. "stupid woman," continued my father, "send her off immediately." "did you ever hear of such a _dreadful_ creature?" said my mother. "off she goes the first thing in the morning;" and sure enough our new cook gave place to another new one the very next day. my chief object in taking a trip in the "omnibus" is the hope of meeting somebody, in the course of its rounds, who may recommend to us some treasure of a cook, likely to suit my mother, and remain with her, say, for a month or two; for this changing once a week worries the life out of me. you all know the proverb that speaks of too many cooks. how true it is in our case! we want _one_, instead of a multitude. i shall not mention the name of the personage who is proverbially said to "send cooks." perhaps we have already had a protegée or two of his among our professors; but a cook of anybody's sending would be eagerly welcomed by me--so that she would but be a little steady, _and stop_! w. s. a song of contradictions. by laman blanchard. "i am not what i am."--_iago._ i. the passions, in festival meeting, i saw seated round, in a dream; and vow, by my hatred of cheating, the passions are not what they seem. there's mirth under faces the gravest, there's woe under visages droll; there's fear in the breast of the bravest, and light in the desolate soul. ii. thus joy, in my singular vision, sat sobbing and gnashing his teeth; while gentleness scoff'd in derision, and hope pick'd the buds from his wreath. despair, her tight bodice unlacing, with laughter seem'd ready to die; and hate, her companions embracing, won each with a smile or a sigh. iii. there peace bellow'd louder and louder, for freedom, sent off to the hulks; fear sat on a barrel of powder, and pleasure stood by in the sulks. here dignity shoots like a rocket past grace, who is rolling in fat; there probity's picking a pocket, here pity sits skinning a cat. iv. then temperance reeling off, quite full, charged friendship with drugging her draught; _she_ vowed it was love that was spiteful, while charity, blaming _all_, laugh'd; when rage, with the blandest expression, and vengeance, low-voiced like a child, cried, "mercy, forgive the transgression!" but mercy look'd horribly wild. v. old wisdom was worshipping fashion, and jollity dozing in gloom; while meekness was foaming with passion, and misery danced round the room. sweet envy tripp'd off to her garret, bright malice smiled worthy of trust, gay want was enjoying his claret, and luxury gnaw'd a dry crust. vi. at pride, as she served up the dinner, humility turn'd up her nose; suspicion shook hands with each sinner, while candour shunn'd all, as her foes. there's mirth under faces the gravest, there's woe under visages droll, there's fear in the breast of the bravest, and light in the desolate soul! frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter vi. the agitation and distress of mrs. heartwell at finding that frank did not return on the day of the ship-launch may readily be conceived--he was the only stay and hope of her heart. suspecting the cause of his absence, she set out for the tender at the tower; but as it was dark night, the sentries would neither allow her to come on board nor render any information, so that she was forced to return unsatisfied. but on the following morning she was again alongside, and learned the fate of her son and the negro, who were then at some distance down the river. this, though it removed her fears for his safety, did not diminish her anxiety for his welfare, nor was it till she received the letter announcing his being placed on the quarter-deck of the thunderbolt, seventy-four, that she felt relieved from the sickening apprehensions that had almost overwhelmed her. it was about this time that richard brothers, the supposed prophet, became extremely popular; and as he had declared that he was commanded by divine authority to proclaim the destruction of the city of london by earthquake and fire, many of his believers who resided within the doomed precincts quitted their habitations, and found temporary abodes outside the proscribed districts: amongst these was a mr. baurie, a tradesman of the strand, who, terrified at the denunciation, at a very considerable sacrifice of business and property, left his house and occupied mrs. heartwell's apartments. brothers resided in paddington-street, where he was almost worshipped as the prince of the hebrews, and the deliverer and king of the jews, who was to restore them to new jerusalem, and become their ruler; and as there had been some remarkable coincidences connected with his prophecies, thousands of all ranks--even bishops and clergy--visited him, and not a few gave full credence to his absurdities. he frequently called upon baurie, and, being a lieutenant in the navy, mrs. heartwell had more than once or twice conversed with him about her husband. his answers were invariably the same--"though he be dead, yet shall he live again--though he is lost, yet shall he be found." ambiguous as this reply may be considered, it encouraged the cherished hope that her husband would be restored to her. strong as her mind usually was, the mild and gentlemanly manners of the prophet, combined with his upright conduct and undeviating integrity, won upon her feelings; and though she pitied the weakness of his believers, there were times when his observations made a deeper impression upon herself than she liked to acknowledge. meetings were held in baurie's apartment, which were attended by numbers of the select--the principal of whom were brassey allhead, an intelligent oriental scholar, who had resided many years in india, and now sat as member of parliament for ----, william bryan, george turner, and others, who pretended to see visions, claimed the gift of prophecy, and bore testimony to the authenticity of brothers's mission--that he was the descendant of king david--the rod that was to come out of the stem of jesse, &c., &c.: in fact, there only wanted the "unknown tongues," which has since been discovered by the disciples of fanaticism, to render the whole farce perfect in all its parts. the twilight of a summer evening was gradually deepening its shade, when a hackney-coach stopped at mrs. heartwell's door, and the servant announced that a strange-looking woman who came in it had endeavoured to force her way into the house, and still remained clamorous to be admitted. without a moment's hesitation, mrs. heartwell went to the hall--the door was re-opened, but the lady could not help retiring back with amazement, when she beheld a stout female, in short dutch petticoats, wooden shoes, and a peaked-crown hat, who, in spite of the resistance of the servant, immediately and hurriedly advanced towards her. "who, and what are you?" demanded mrs. heartwell. "keep the woman back, mary!" the girl caught hold of the intruder's petticoats, but, observing a thick club queue hanging down the female's back, she shouted, "oh, my! ma'am, she's got a pig-tail!" and let them go again. "what is all this?--who do you want?" demanded the lady, retreating. "why don't you stop her, mary?" "lor', ma'am, i carnt," replied the girl, again catching hold of the petticoats, whilst a well-remembered voice laughingly exclaimed,-"bless you, my lady--why, dont you know me? howsomever i hope i arnt frightened you; but what's the odds so as you're happy?" "can it indeed be ben!" said mrs. heartwell, in surprise. "but why are you dressed thus?" "oh, it's a long story, my lady!" replied the seaman; "and i've kept the duds on to circumwent the pressgangs. but i am so happy to see you again." mrs. heartwell extended her hand to the worthy tar, and as her child was the first object of her thoughts, she eagerly inquired whether he "had seen or heard anything of frank." from the answers she elicited, she very soon came to the conclusion that frank was not far off. "he is here, ben--i am sure of it. open the door, mary--the coach is still waiting--my son!--my son! merciful father, i thank thee!" the next minute the youth was in her arms; and sambo, full of joy at his return, sprang in and caught the servant-girl round the neck, so as to excite something like jealousy in the mind of ben, who however, in the fulness of delight, cut a few capers of the college hornpipe, exclaiming, "what's the odds, so as you're happy!" and making the hall echo again to the sounds of his wooden shoes. there was pleasure that night at mrs. heartwell's, both in the parlour and in the kitchen. in the former mr. baurie and family and mr. unity peach, who had called in, witnessed the gratification and anxiety of the mother as frank recounted his adventures from first to last, not omitting his interview with brady in the character of a traitorous spy, and stating that the merchant, with his wife and daughter, who had escaped in their company, had gone to an hotel in the neighbourhood. sambo and ben in the kitchen enjoyed themselves to their heart's content--the grog was abroach--the pipes sent forth their wreaths of curling smoke--the servants were delighted, and the hour was late before they all departed to their rest. the next morning frank and his two humble companions were supplied with suitable apparel, and mrs. heartwell looked with pride upon the handsome appearance of her son in his uniform, though a sigh would now and then escape as she contemplated the strong resemblance which he bore to his father, and when she thought how soon they must part again. the young midshipman, accompanied by the seaman and the negro, went to the admiralty and reported their escape to the secretary, who questioned frank pretty closely relative to what he had witnessed in paris. during the inquiry a tall, upright, stately gentleman entered the room, and not only remained to listen to the conversation, but put several questions to the youth, and seemed satisfied with the ready and pleasing manner in which they were answered. he was then directed to call the next day, and instructions would be given to him for their future proceedings. frank was quitting the admiralty gates, when a government messenger tapped him on the shoulder and an officer took him into custody. ben and the black would have resisted; but the youth desired them to desist, and, conscious of innocence of any crime, cheerfully accompanied the messenger, followed at a little distance by sambo and the seaman. the whole had been done so quietly that no bustle was excited, and they were soon in the home-office at downing street, and frank was summoned into the presence of mr. dundas, the secretary of state, and questioned relative to his having seen lawyer brady at the house of polverel, and what transpired there. the youth explicitly answered every interrogatory, and was requested to accompany mr. dundas to the privy council, which was then about to sit. the carriage was waiting; and when ben saw the smiling face of his young master as he nodded at him on ascending the steps of the vehicle, he became assured that nothing was wrong, though he determined to watch where he went to; and both the seaman and the black had a smart run for it till they saw the equipage enter the archway of a prison-like building, and ben became fearful that the young officer was "going to be clapped in limbo." he went up to the sentry and, offering him a bite of pigtail, inquired "what place that was," his mind became more appeased, though his wonder was not lessened, on being told that it was "the king's palace." the privy council had met, and lawyer brady was a prisoner before them on a charge of treasonable practices. several witnesses were examined, who gave evidence against him; but as nothing very conclusive could be drawn from it, he remained cool and firm till frank was introduced, when that peculiar rolling of the eye for which he was remarkable under sudden excitement plainly indicated strong internal emotion. [illustration: _richard brothers the prophet at mrs. heartwells._ london: tilt & bogue. 86. fleet street.] frank was at first somewhat confused, but he was encouraged by the tall gentleman he had seen at the admiralty, and who was, in fact, the earl of chatham, at that time the head of the navy. the youth narrated every particular that had transpired in connexion with brady at paris, and at the close of his examination he was requested to withdraw. he was shown into a room where the other witnesses were assembled, and here frank learned that brady had been engaged by the government as a spy amongst certain of the higher classes of society, whom he first betrayed, and then, having obtained all the intelligence he could of national affairs, it was supposed had secretly gone over to communicate his information to the enemy. this last supposition frank had confirmed; and the lawyer was committed to prison on a charge of high treason. on the following day frank had another interview with the secretary of the admiralty, and was desired to leave his address and remain at home till further orders, and the seaman and the negro had leave of absence extended to them. mrs. heartwell was much pleased at retaining her son with her for some time, especially as she received another handsome donation from her unknown friend, which enabled her to procure him a complete outfit. mr. wendover, the merchant, had called, and behaved with great kindness and attention to both the mother and son, and the latter was invited to pass a few days at a handsome mansion which had just been purchased near finchley common, and which gave a right to the owner as lord of the manor. frank was delighted--he had never ceased to treasure the most pleasing remembrances of the interesting girl who had clung to him for protection on the beach at blankenburg, and she, with all the tenderness and devotion of youthful affection, secretly cherished a warm regard for the young midshipman, and she most earnestly longed to see him again. on the evening previous to the intended visit, brothers, the prophet, held a "meeting" in the drawing-room of mr. baurie's lodgings, and as on these occasions--which were looked upon in the light of devotional exercises--none were excluded, mrs. heartwell, frank, mr. unity peach, ben and sambo, and two or three of his leading disciples, as well as the servants, were present. there was nothing in the illusionist's general manner that could be construed into aberration of intellect. he was perfectly intelligible and sane when his monomania was not called into operation. he was a strong-limbed man; his hair was cropped close--his full eyes bent upon a book that he held in his right hand, and from which he commenced his address by reading passages from the prophecies of daniel. his dress was remarkably plain, approaching to that usually worn by the society of friends, and his cravat was tied in the most exact manner, so that the bow in front resembled the cross of st. john of jerusalem. at first, his voice was mild and gentle; but as he proceeded and became warmed with his subject, his countenance assumed an expression of wild energy, his utterance became deep and sepulchral, till at length, throwing down the book, he stood erect, with his arms crossed upon his breast, as the spirit of prophecy seemed to come upon him. "woe unto ye of the earth who seeing will not believe; who hear and yet despise. i am he of whom it is said, that a man will be revealed to the hebrews as their prince, and to all nations as their governor, according to the covenant entered into with king david. haste then and flee from the wrath to come, for have i not prophesied, and it hath come to pass?--have i not foretold, and the fulfilment is at hand? did i not predict the downfal of monarchy in france? and lo! it hath fallen. did i not foretel the death of louis? and he is no more. did i not say the king of sweden was given over to destruction? the great gustavus is laid in the tomb by the hand of an assassin. have i not declared that england would be deserted by her allies? many of them are already gone, and the others will quickly follow.--the king of prussia will acknowledge the republic of france;--the government of poland will be changed, and the monarch driven from his throne;--the stadtholdership of holland shall be cut off close to the ground! hear and understand, ye men who are in authority! the prisons are crowded with captives charged with high treason, but the powers shall not prevail against them;--yet a little while and the prison doors shall be opened and the whole shall walk forth free. hearken, oh! ye hebrews, and listen, oh! ye people--london, with its armageddon[9], shall be utterly destroyed.--lo! i saw in a vision, and satan clothed in white and scarlet, and breathing desecration and fire, was entering the condemned city, and suddenly there was strife and confusion among the citizens, and every man's hand was armed against his brother, till a river ran through london of the colour of blood, and there was a voice of fury and the noise of an earthquake, and there were groans of woe--woe--woe! and i prayed and wrestled with the spirit that the city might be spared, and he, the mighty one, was angered, and his wrath frightened away the angel from my side, and all became dark and oblivious; yet i saw in my vision that london had sunk into the bowels of the ground, and between the downs and windsor there was but one vast sheet of water, so that no trace of the city could be found. why will ye die, oh! house of israel?--hear and believe! and a storm shall arise--there will be consternation amongst our rulers--the english admiralty shall be shaken as a man would shake bread in a basket." (frank looked at ben, and his countenance evinced displeasure.) "the prop and stay of the nation shall be knocked away--her armies will be destroyed, and her navy will be annihilated--the carcases of her soldiers shall strew the earth--the bodies of her seamen in an ocean-grave lie buried--for the enemy shall prevail, and the proud ships shall be sunk or grace the triumph of the foe." here the prophet was interrupted by ben, who, rising up and biting through his quid, as he hitched up his trowsers, ejaculated with vehemence the word "gammon," seemingly to the great delight of mr. unity peach, who screwed his face into all manner of shapes to conceal his mirth, and uttered, "sit down, man--saucy sailor--go to sea." the prophet prepared to renew his subject; but frank, seconding ben's motion by rising also, boldly said, that "being a british naval officer he could not sit to hear the service he loved denounced--it would be treason to his country. the english ensign had been victorious on the seas, and its gallant defenders would never allow it to be dishonoured." "hurrah, master frank," shouted ben, "who cares for a bit of a breeze! nillyhate our navy indeed!--bury all hands in the ocean!--strike to the enemy too!--gammon, all gammon; but there, what's the odds so as you're happy." "neber see de day, boy," chimed in sambo, as he imitated the example of his master, "golly-make me tink ob em gullemtine." the three withdrew, and mr. unity peach soon afterwards left the party, "in order," as he said, "to scold the unmanly interruption given to mr. brothers," but in reality to vent his spleen against everybody; and the prophet very speedily took his departure. the stately and elegant mansion purchased by mr. wendover was indeed delightfully situated, and the grounds had been laid out with considerable taste and skill. joyous were the hours that frank passed there in the society of friends, who esteemed him as their deliverer from death, and particularly with helen, who not only admired the handsome young officer's improved appearance, but also very naturally evinced gratitude towards him for saving the life of her father. never were pair more truly happy; the present was to them all bright, and clear, and shining; they had no thought of the coming future; not a cloud intervened to cast a gloom upon their innocent enjoyments; and no pain was experienced till the time of separation approached, and then they felt how truly estimable and dear they were to each other. frank was on the verge of his seventeenth birth-day; helen had just passed her fifteenth; and both were experiencing those delightful sensations of affection, which in early life are so exquisitely delicious, because they are untainted by unhallowed thoughts or worldly desires. on the estate was a beautiful little rural cottage, over which the vine grew in rich luxuriance, and its garden shone bright with the varied hues of many flowers. often when passing it frank had wished it was the home of his mother, whose health had become impaired by lodging-house keeping, and she earnestly desired to retire from it. the place had been unoccupied for several years, and helen, without saying anything to frank, had urged the suit with her parents to offer it to mrs. heartwell as a residence. mrs. wendover and helen called upon that lady; and the former was so much gratified with the deportment and conversation of mrs. heartwell, that she at once made the proposition and invited her down to visit the place. the invitation was accepted, but before the day arrived frank was accosted in the street by shipkins, who had acted as brady's assistant, and he delivered a message from his employer, earnestly entreating that the youth would come to him, as he had affairs of importance to communicate. shipkins also added his own persuasions to go immediately; but frank peremptorily declined, until he had consulted with his mother, who, on his return home, not only advised the interview, but also resolved to accompany him as vague thoughts rose in her mind that possibly she might learn something respecting her husband. on the succeeding forenoon they went to the prison, and were informed that brady had contrived to make his escape during the night, and the officers were then out in search of him. protected from impressment by leave from the admiralty, both ben and the negro could go where they pleased; and as the merchant had presented them with a liberal sum, they did not fail to avail themselves of the enjoyment of freedom. the royal circus (as the surrey theatre was then called) was a place of great celebrity for its melo-dramatic performances, and the "unrivalled" feats of horsemanship, enlivened as they always were by the quaint humour of a clever clown. ben and sambo had gone to visit a relation of the former somewhere in the neighbourhood of walworth, and frank had engaged to meet them at the notorious tea-gardens known by the sign of the dog and duck, in st. george's fields, to accompany them to the circus. the morning and evening promenades at the dog and duck were frequented by all the dashing bucks of the time, with their ladies; and amongst the company might often be seen _gentlemen_ riders, whose _modesty_ on the highway induced them to put crape over their faces as they uttered "stand, and deliver"--in short, the place became the assemblage of the worst characters of society. frank, habited in plain clothes (as his uniform would not have corresponded with the dress of his companions), was crossing the open fields to the place of appointment, when shipkins again addressed him, and by assurances that he could inform him of the fate of his father, induced the young man to enter a respectable-looking house in the neighbourhood; but no sooner had they advanced into a room at the back of the premises, than frank was seized by two stout men, a wet cloth bound over his mouth, and he was conveyed to a sort of dungeon in the rear of the building, where his clothes were stripped off, and a canvas shirt and trousers substituted in their stead; an iron band was then clasped round his body, and he found himself chained to the floor. the intentions of shipkins were now evident; and frank conjectured that his death was determined upon. thinking more of his mother than himself, the young man suffered great distress, which was not relieved by a confused noise that suddenly commenced; and by placing his ear against the ground, he thought he could distinguish the strife of many human voices. what it meant he could not tell, but he was not long kept in ignorance, for in another half hour the door of his dungeon was thrown open, and ben and sambo, with a crowd of people, entered to his rescue. "he is not here," said the seaman mournfully, and not knowing the youth in his change of attire; "but this is another victim, anyhow--the man-trapping vagabones!" the black, however, with keener eye, had recognised his master, and he exclaimed, "golly, you blind, misser ben, for no see me young massa," and he bounded forward to release him; but the chain and band defied his strength--the key was not to be found; but the enraged populace applied crow-bars to the stone in which the staple was fixed, and, after much exertion, it was forced away, and frank was carried to the open air, where other unfortunate captives had been previously conveyed. it appeared that ben and the black were passing the house, which was notoriously known as one of the numerous crimping establishments of the neighbourhood, when their progress was arrested by a crowd that had gathered in front of it, and two or three declared that they had seen a young gentleman decoyed into it, and so many crimes had been perpetrated there, that they were determined to put a stop to them. ben required a description of the young gentleman, which was given, and suspicion crossed his mind that induced him to join the assailants; in fact, he became their leader--the doors were beat in--the windows smashed, and a forcible entrance made by the mob, whose numbers increased every minute. several poor creatures were discovered almost in a state of exhaustion, but the principals of the establishment had escaped. in one room ben found a part of frank's dress, and the sight almost maddened him. the search was continued, and resulted as has already been told; and now a wild but characteristic scene of lawless justice ensued. the mob dragged the furniture out into the fields, and piling it up fire was applied, and the whole was soon in a blaze. they next proceeded to demolish the building itself, nor did they cease till the whole was razed to the ground. but frank did not wait to witness the termination--a locksmith had succeeded in forcing the clasp of the band, and releasing him from the encumbrance, which sambo carried home with him as a trophy. mrs. heartwell was informed of what had taken place, and a probability was suggested that her husband might have been carried off in a similar way. the visit to finchley was made, and mrs. heartwell was persuaded by frank to accept the tenancy of the cottage, hoping that fortune would favour him with prize-money to render her life independent and comfortable. he had now twelve months' pay due, which, with what she would receive by disposing of part of her furniture, would serve for present exigencies; and a distant relation had bequeathed her an annuity of thirty pounds a year--so that prospects brightened before her. brady could not be found, and frank was ordered down to join his ship, that was then refitting at portsmouth, and to take sambo with him, whilst ben was directed to accompany them and procure a passage round to plymouth to the windsor castle. frank received a letter to his captain from the secretary, and set out for portsmouth, where he delivered his letter, and ascertained that it contained a strong recommendation of himself to the captain. being somewhat of a favourite with the first lieutenant, the young midshipman earnestly solicited him to use his influence in getting ben transferred to the same ship with him. the request prevailed; and ben, by the admiral's directions, was entered on the books of the "thunderbolt" seventy-four. nor was he disappointed in his expectations of prize-money, for in the course of a few months several valuable captures were made, and the young midshipman enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that his mother was comfortably settled at the cottage with a competence, and that helen when at finchley visited her daily. footnote: [footnote 9: by this name he called the houses of parliament.] a warm reception. harry paid twenty pounds of sterling metal, to risk his life in a balloon, which burst; tom and his friends, pic-nicking, boil'd a kettle, which harry (tumbling) fell into head first; but long ere what it was they well could settle, arose unhurt from where he'd been immersed- and, "ah! why, tom," said he, "how do, my buck?- "you see i've just _dropp'd in_ to take--_pot-luck_!" [illustration] tea-table tattle. "is your tea agreeable, my dear miss dibsley?" "thank you, dear mrs. hipson; quite pleasant; very much as i like it; all green with some black in it; a bit more sugar if you please." "glad you like the flavour; i've just changed my tea-dealer, and--" "and new _brooms_ sweep clean, as the saying is," tittered miss dibsley; "a trifle more cream,--thank you." "brooms!" ejaculated mrs. hipson gravely; "um! i hope you don't mean--by your mention of brooms--i assure you i ordered the very best seven shilling--" "oh dear, quite the reverse," returned miss dibsley, helping herself to another tea-cake. "with some very superior green," proceeded mrs. hipson, "at eight-and-six, which i do think quite a catch; but really it's extremely difficult to find good teas now-a-days, for since this curious business with china--" "oh! pray do tell me something about that," said miss dibsley; "for i never yet found anybody who knew, and never had patience to listen if they did. what has this emperor of delf been doing? the cream--thank you." "why, my dear, i've luckily had it all explained to me by a gentleman deeply concerned in the potteries, who consequently understands everything connected with china--it's his business--and he informs me on the best authority that the disturbance originally broke out thus:--you see there happens to be a place in america called the boundary-line, the natives of which employed a gentleman named mcleod to seize upon one of our east india ships and destroy its cargo of tea--these boundary-line people being jealous, as i'm told, of the spread of temperance in this country. whereupon our merchants in india naturally became incensed; and they applied, it seems, to the emperor of china for a considerable quantity of opium--of opium, don't you see?--with the view of selling it to america at a very reduced price, so that the boundary-line people might be tempted to buy the injurious drug, and thus become the instruments of their own punishment." "now i begin to understand," said miss dibsley. "euphemius hipson, my dear, you can assist me to another lump of sugar?" "oh! yes miss dibsley," said the young gentleman, jumping up nervously and spilling his tea over his new pepper-and-salt habiliments; "and if you'd like a bit more of this cake, here's such a nice--" "euphemius, my darling," cried mrs. hipson, "silence! would you like to take some more cake, miss dibsley? euphemius, go and sit down. well, my dear, as i was saying, the emperor of china, secretly instigated by his political crony, old mehemet ali--a very clever man, i need not tell you--positively refused to supply any opium to our merchants; and he seems to have acted with great obstinacy, for the french king and the sultan together vainly endeavoured to counteract the policy of the pacha, who had succeeded in persuading the emperor that we wanted all this opium for _home-consumption_--in fact (only think!) that the british were going to destroy themselves with _opium_, and that thus he should lose his best customers for _tea_." "i see it all," remarked miss dibsley; "euphemius, take my cup; and i think i'll try the bread and butter." "well, the opium _we could not get_, though the applications that lord palmerston made were unknown; however we could punish mehemet ali for his part in the transaction, and _you_ know as well as _i_ how matters ended in syria. i must tell you that his celestial majesty never once interposed to protect the pacha, but left him to his fate--this i know to be the case. well, our quarrel with china still remained open--" "cream, euphemius," said miss dibsley. "we refused to take tea----" "there's a good lad: a little bit more sugar." "we refused to take their tea without the supply of opium;--the emperor grew more and more incensed--told all manner of falsehoods, and asserted that our merchants had been administering opium to the chinese, (where should they get it, i should like to know!) with the view of producing sleep and plundering the tea-factories. he then, it is said--though i don't understand this part of the story--flung his chops in the faces of the british, and at length provoked our sailors to make an attack on everything in the shape of junk that they could find. and so to war we went--all, as you perceive, through the people of the boundary-line, and the meddling of mehemet ali." [illustration] "i never clearly understood the matter before," observed miss dibsley, stirring her fourth cup: "but what has the emperor been doing lately?" "lately, why haven't you heard? my dear, to prevent the british from being supplied, he has been ordering all his people to destroy their stocks of teas--hyson, souchong, bohea, congou--all they have, and promising to indemnify them every sixpence." "well to be sure!" exclaimed miss dibsley; (a little more _gunpowder_ in the pot would improve the next cup, my dear madam;) "only think! but isn't this a good deal like cutting his own nose off?" "of course it is, and what his celestial majesty will be doing next, i can't guess--i must ask my friend in the potteries _his_ opinion." "i shouldn't at all wonder," returned miss dibsley, "if he were to hang himself up on one of his own tea-trees by his own pigtail, as a scarecrow to frighten away the barbarians." "but if this destruction of tea is to go on, what are _we_ to do? what is to become of the tee-totallers, miss dibsley?' "can't say, my dear mrs. hipson, unless they turn coffee-totallers." "it's a melancholy affair, love." "it is indeed, dear. that last crisp little biscuit there is positively tempting,--and now i think of it, i'll just venture on _half_ a cup more tea; that sprinkling of gunpowder holds out deliciously. that'll do--thank you--charming!--these chinese, i believe, have nothing of a navy?" "i'm credibly informed," responded mrs. hipson, "that their ships are all made of earthenware--in the shape of milk-pots." [illustration] "yes, and their cavalry are all mounted on tea-kettles, and go by steam." "by the way--oh! miss dibsley, i had almost forgot--you have never seen the sweet copy of verses that our dear euphemius has been inditing on this curious chinese business. euphemius, my darling, show them to miss dibsley. he actually pictures the celestial emperor sitting on a teapot!--a teapot for a throne; how imaginative! i assure _you_--but i shouldn't like it to go farther--that our friend in the potteries thinks them quite remarkable, and says that the youth's knowledge of _facts_ is surprising: euphemius is hardly seventeen yet--quite a child! what an age of genius this is! euphemius, my dear, will you read?--martha, you can take away.--beg pardon, any more tea, miss dibsley? no!--not half a cup?--take away, martha. euphemius, dear, proceed with your poetry."--"hadn't i better read it for myself?" said miss dibsley. "no, i thank you," returned euphemius; "you won't find out the jokes so well as i shall, 'cause i haven't put 'em all in italics." (_euphemius reads._) the world rests on a tortoise, and a teapot rests on that, and on the teapot sitteth earth's emperor fierce and fat. he's brother to ten comets, and a dozen suns and moons; the ocean is his slop-basin, and his subjects are all spoons. forty cups of tea he taketh every minute of the day, and he's owner of a milk-walk, called by men the milky way. but for all his mighty emperorship, i wouldn't be in _his_ shoes, for there's steam enough about him to stew the chops he issues. if stronger he his tea makes, 'twill blow out half his teeth; for hot's the water under him, and there's gunpowder beneath. yet danger can't convince him, though it grow more strong and hot; of "green" he's proved a sample; he's "a spoonful for the pot." "_tu doces_" means "thou tea-chest," but to teach old china's tribe, we must read it thus, "two doses," such as nelson would prescribe. as sure as that's a teapot, he'll go upward with a whiz, and be, though more celestial, less majestic than he is. as sure as that same crockery community are crackt, their spouts, and lids, and handles, will go smash, and that's a fact. though _t_ be first and last of it, in them there'll be no _trust_, till "with your leaf, or by your leaf," death turns them to "fine dust." how puzzled be their crania beneath our cannon's roar! they never tasted anything but "cannister" before. they'll wonder what it's all about, when shot yet more abounds; they look into their teacups, and can't understand the grounds. while they fancy that there's nothing with their own tea on a par, i wonder what they think of the british t-a-r. this fact, celestial emperor, from experience we may know, if amongst the _quick_ we leave you, you will leave us--to the _sloe_. "very good indeed, euphemius;" cried miss dibsley, with a slight yawn; "capital; if you live long enough i haven't a doubt that you'll cut a very pretty figure as a poet in the pages of the _stoke poges gazette_, _or wormwood scrubbs and bullock-smithey register_." [illustration] omnibus chat. meditating luxuriantly in our omnibus the other day upon the elegant forms of the fair as they flitted in the sunshine through the streets of the west end, it occurred to us that we had neglected the fashions of late, and that the public might be expecting from us some report on the costumes of 1841. in a vehicle like the "omnibus" it would be unpardonable not to _notice_ the fashions. it is a subject to which we intend to pay especial attention. while thus resolving, a lady _swept_ across the road, and blackie, the crossing-sweeper, attracted our attention by these observations upon the fair pedestrian:- "wot berry obliging an kin' hearted tings dem white lady is!--dey not ony gib poor nigger de coppers, but dey so kin' as help him sweepa de crossing.--me suppose 'em not berry strong, poor tings, cos dey ony carry dem little doll umbrella, and dem little picanini bonnet; but dem berry nice lady, and look berry pretty for all dat. bless 'em little heart, me neber wear out-a my broom, if dey go on a-wear dem nice long train." [illustration] "blackie's right," cried our old acquaintance, mr. cavil, who now jumped in. not quite (thought we); for we could not find it in our hearts to complain _very_ seriously of the pretty dresses of the present day. perhaps the train _may_ be just a thought too long. but we left mr. cavil full room to denounce the pinafores turned hind part before, in which young gentlemen between sixteen and thirty-five perambulate on sundays; the best pinafore is but a poor apology for the "sunday coat," though they do try to carry it off with a grand air, and a cigar. the subject of playbills and playgoing now took the lead; for at this moment stepped into the vehicle, for the first time, a passenger, whose name it will be unnecessary to mention, if we introduce him under the designation of the playgoer. not old in years, he is not young in memory, and still less so in observation. by hearsay, or by optical note, he will tell you the colour of the small-clothes in which munden took his farewell of the stage, and describe the exact pattern of woodward's shoe-buckles. he hits off keeley to the life, and gives you a very lively imitation of stephens's pathetic execution of "auld robin gray." garrick he seems to have known from a boy, and he enlarges upon the grateful duty of subscribing to the fund now being raised for erecting a monument to siddons, as though he had seen that incomparable actress (so every great authority proclaims her) make her first and last appearance. we ought to have been born earlier; we ought to have seen mrs. siddons. "you go to the theatre, i suppose, mr. cavil?" inquired the playgoer of our old acquaintance beside him. "no i don't," was the response of mr. cavil, "but i read the playbills. the playbill is the _veluti in speculum_ for me. there i see human nature as in a mirror. there i read of envy, jealousy, and hatred--personal pique, private friendship--self-interest, sycophancy, adulation--in the varying forms of announcement, in the varying periods of omission--in the different sizes of type, in the significant conjunction of names--that may happen to compose the playbill. i see why this actor is to be run down now, and why the other is to be cried up then. i detect a reason for the implied insult, a motive for the palpable puff. your playbill is a wonderfully accurate expositor of the mysteries of your human being. i don't want to go _into_ the theatre, while i can read what i find at the doors. the bill's better than the play. if you want an example, look at that placard there (pointing as we passed to one that bore her majesty's name at the head of it), i should like to see a comedy coming up to that! there you read of a piece- "'which, from its strongly affecting scenes, and powerfully harrowing situations, has nightly drawn tears of pity and commiseration from the sterner heart of man, from all who have one _spark_ of the _milk of human kindness_, whilst woman's softer nature has swollen with bitterest indignation at the unmerited suffering and patient endurance of the hapless foundling.' "such a bill as that is payable at sight. i can't read it without tears. its bold metaphorical originality is unequalled in our literature. we have heard of the 'fountain of our daily bread,' and of the 'fire of patriotism flowing into other channels;' but who ever before heard of a 'spark of the milk of human kindness!' shakspeare never ventured to make the daring combination." "mr. cavil," said the playgoer, "i admire your literary acumen. as you have shown how the theatre furnishes amusement to those who never go into it, let me show in turn that, within, the field of amusement is not exclusively the stage. we need not travel just now 'behind the scenes;' there we may find ourselves another time; for the present we are satisfied with "a romance of the orchestra." i once witnessed a scene (say six or seven years ago) in the orchestra of covent garden, which for ludicrousness of effect, and the mysterious manner in which it arose, surpassed anything that ever came under my notice. a friend, considerably my senior, and a playgoer of the time of the kembles, was one of my companions; the other was his wife, to accommodate whom, being shortsighted, we had established ourselves in the front row of the pit, on the prompter's side. at the commencement of the overture, we found that the scroll-end of one of the large double basses intercepted the lady's view of the stage, and a request was preferred by my friend to the performer (a most eccentric-looking genius, with only one eye, and that apparently turning on what mechanics call 'an universal centre'), to alter his position, but he very uncourteously refused to move; and still worse, on the rising of the curtain, he left the instrument secured in a perpendicular position, so as to completely obstruct our lady's view. thus he left it, in spite of all our remonstrances. i, with the desperate indignation of youth, was for cutting the string and letting it fall down, but was restrained by my elder and more wily friend, who whispered me 'never mind, i'll serve him out.' he then changed places with his lady, and all went on quietly till the fall of the curtain, when i suddenly missed him. he returned, however, in a few minutes, with a large piece of--yes, of _candle_; and he gave me a look which indicated that i was not to see anything. yet i _did_ see, that while the rest of the audience were looking round the house, he leant over, and, unobserved by any one else, applied the grease with dexterity and effect to the strings of the offending instrument. he then took his seat, apparently as unconcerned as any spectator in the pit. in due time the bell rang for the music to the afterpiece, and we saw our musical adversary enter, release his instrument, and seat himself. he then tried the strings at his ear, and finding all right indulged himself with a pinch of snuff, and quietly awaited his time. the second bell rang-the leader gave the preliminary tap-tap, and off they went in the overture to tancredi. after a few bars, it was our enemy's turn to chime in: he sawed away with right good will, but, to his utter amazement, without producing the desired effect. he looked down inquisitively with his single optic, but without comprehending the mystery. again he tried, and of course with the same result; another downward look, and the truth seemed to flash across him. his one eye glared most horribly; but not on us did his anger fall. in front of him, perched on a high stool, with a step half way up for his feet, sat a little wee _homo_, working most industriously at a violoncello, as big as himself, and in a sweet unconsciousness of the storm gathering in his rear. on this unoffending victim did he of the double bass vent his rage--for after the second brief look at his useless instrument he darted one piercing glance at the violoncello player, deliberately deposited his bow on the desk before him, and dealt the little man so sound a cuff on the head, that musician, stool, violoncello, and desk, went down 'in one astounding ruin,' damaging the shins and toes of immediate neighbours, literally putting their pipes out, and producing discord dire throughout the realm of harmony. in vain did the leader rap his desk and try to keep his flock together. on looking round he found his first flute and fourth violin busily rubbing their legs; the second trombone gentleman dreadfully irate at having a favourite corn hurt by the stool falling on it; the small violoncello player awfully pugnacious; while the grand cause of all was looking on, with a diabolical smile on what passed for his face, and muttering _sotto voce_, 'i'll teach you to play me tricks again.' we looked quietly on, and my friend gave it as his opinion, that it was a great pity that the gentlemen could not settle their quarrels in private, instead of bringing them before the public in such a disgraceful way. how it ended i know not, for the curtain rose before it could be adjusted, and the 'harmonists' retired; but we subsequently learnt, that our hero of the double bass was, from a boorish temper, much disliked in the orchestra, and that to his great annoyance tricks had been frequently played off upon him; hence his sudden and violent retaliation on his supposed tormentor. * * * * * our friend the playgoer having thus introduced us to one of the curiosities of music--a practiser of sweet sounds, who was anything but the harmonist he seemed--his story suggested the image of an equally contradictory humorist, whom we had recently encountered; and we therefore without ceremony presented one of the curiosities of literature. 'twas evening, and loud raged the autumn blast, as in an author's darken'd room i stood. it was a sight to stir the pitying blood; his soul seemed struggling with some trouble vast; his thin hand held a pen--his eye, downcast, traced its slow movement o'er the blotted sheet; his air was wild--his heart, i heard it beat! lone, pale, he sat, a spectre of the past, like werner when the waters round him throng, or like the banish'd lord. his heavy task weighs on his brain--ah! when may it be done! "what write you, troubled spirit?" then i ask; in thrilling tones he said--"a comic song, 'tis for the _jolly sandboy_, no. 1." here we stopped to take up another passenger, "his first appearance in our stage," though evidently an experienced literary traveller. we all welcomed the new arrival; and mr. quickly (for this was his name) pretty soon began to convince us of his qualifications for a pleasant companionship along the road of life. we pass by what he said of ourselves, with the bare remark, that like falstaff's story, "it was worth the listening;" but still worthier of it was this, which he recounted to us under the title of an incident of travel. "will you put that window down, sir?" "certainly not, sir, i have a bad cold!" such was the request addressed to his vis-à-vis in the royal mail by a small gentleman in a suit of black and a profuse perspiration; and such was the answer returned thereto by the person addressed, a highly nervous individual rejoicing apparently in about fifteen stone, certainly in a blue coat with gilt buttons, a sealskin cap, a red face, and nose to correspond.-"will you put down the window, sir?" again demanded, after a few minutes, our friend of the sable garments, in a tone half angry, half speculative.-"really, sir," was the answer, "i am sorry, sir--but must decline to do so." "do you intend to open the window?" a third time exclaimed the pertinacious votary of freedom--in accents wherein scorn and wrath were blended, with a quivering lip and pallid cheek. the lusty man shrunk back in his place--an assault with violence seemed impending. but though a large--he was a brave man, and he said "no!" * * * again there was a pause--a decidedly unpleasant and embarrassing silence. the little querist turned pale, and gave a deep sigh--at last, in a voice of thunder, he roared out. "will you, sir, or will you not put down that window?" and at the same moment his hand with nervous rapidity sought his coat pocket. the red faced man trembled--he turned pale, and cast a supplicating glance at the other two inmates of the carriage, as who should say--"pray help me--i may be murdered--i really think the wretched imp must have a stiletto or loaded pistol in his pocket." the glance seemed satisfactory--for the great gentleman after a short pause mildly said--"i will not, sir!" in a second--a large silk pocket handkerchief was suddenly jerked from its place of repose by the diminutive tormentor of his gigantic victim. with a face of ashy hue he held out the indian kerchief with one hand--the other reclined gracefully on the region of his heart. anger had passed away from his brow--slowly and deliberately he cast an unearthly look on his trembling victim, and said-"then--sir--you--must--take the consequences, (here he gave symptoms of spasmodic affection,) for--i am--going to be--sick!" * * * when the royal mail entered the town of s----, it was observed by the loiterers round the king's head yard, where it changed horses, that, though a chilly day--_both_ windows _were down_. a tall fat man too was observed reclining in the extreme corner of the vehicle, with a handkerchief tied round his face--evidently suffering from cold. his opposite neighbour--a little man in black--had his head out of the window--and there was a smile on his countenance. * * * * * sympathy for our fat friend, writhing and shivering in the corner of the mail, at the mercy of that little black imp with a smiling countenance, naturally enough suggested "fatness" as a topic of conversation; everybody, as everybody does in these cases, giving his opinion upon the moral and physical tendencies of obesity; some regarding that condition as rather civic than courtly, and others speculating as to its effects upon the temper and disposition; this person holding a proper degree of it to be indispensable to a fine woman; and that asserting a plentiful supply to be essential to the weight of every person in authority. one contended that nobody could have good humour or generous wit without fat, and another, that genius and fat have from the very beginning of the world been divided. it was easy to gather, however, that fat, in the social code, was associated with a certain amount of respectability, and had always the invaluable property of redeeming its possessor from insignificance. we could observe too that those who had it were neither proud of it nor pleased with it, while those who had it not would give the world for a good slice of the blessing. we also noticed that every speaker in turn, apparently unconscious that his neighbour had just done the same thing, quoted the line--"who drives fat oxen must himself be fat." at this instant all heads were attracted to the windows by a spectacle presented at the back of a carriage just then passing; behind it, in all the pride and pomp of white silk hose, appeared a splendid pair of calves, accompanied by a livery-coat, cocked hat, and cane. a little boy had presumptuously mounted the "step behind," and the proprietor of the calves, instead of ordering him off, thrust him brutally down by an application of his foot to the face of the unfortunate urchin. boys are little men, especially in their passions; and resentment of injury is a sharp and subtle suggester. the youthful proselyte of vengeance, after an instant's consideration, darted forwards, caught hold of the rail of the carriage, ran behind it a few feet, and then thrust a pin into one of the broad, round, _shaking_ calves of the footman. with uplifted leg he stood, while the carriage rapidly bore him away from his retreating tormentor. he had a stick, but he could not use it; he was in a free country, yet he dared not stop the carriage. he was hopelessly, ridiculously helpless. how he envied all those of his fraternity who wore padded calves. a cork leg would have been a real blessing! [illustration] "here's a bit of fat for you!" cried a learned professor of obesity, at the same time tossing over to us an accurate account of the dimensions of one thomas hardy kirman, whose case mr. pettigrew submitted to the royal society in 1833. this boy, before he was quite twelve years of age, measured five feet one, and weighed 198 lbs. he was 45 1/2 inches round the waist, 18 1/2 round the calf, and 19 across the shoulders. his obesity commenced at six years of age, at which time he fractured his thigh and was confined six weeks. [illustration] "why didn't they _let_ him out to hire," said mr. cavil, "to the expositors of mesmerism; he must have been made to stick pins into. think of a human creature being turned into a pincushion! it fills all my flesh with a sense of glass splinters and whitechapel blunts." here our young acquaintance, charles hookeywalker, with delicate tenderness, proposed a relief to the feelings of the speaker by volunteering a sonnet. "another sonnet!" cried mr. cavil, "worse and worse, i hate sonnets." but the subject in this especial instance was voted to contain a saving grace, for it was addressed to the princess royal, while yet she is heiress presumptive. o royal cherub! first-born of the queen! sweet babe! bright creature! light of all our eyes! young heavenly visitant! from the blue skies, and from the guelphs, descended! thou hast been as a new moon to britain--not a _son_; but half a loaf is better far than none- and so we welcomed thee; but oh! i ween, (not thee--i leave thy nurses to wean thee,) towards the next our expectations lean upon hope's anchor, wishing for a "he;" who shall sometime rule britons and the sea; and till he rules our land and ocean green, the princedom of its _wales_ his own will be, that he may learn the trick of sovranty! mrs. toddles. to the proprietor of george cruikshank's omnibus. sir.--i write to complain of the conduct of some of your people, more specially of that impertinent fellow who is always holding his finger up at me (i suppose in derision); i wish i only knew his number. how dare he, sir, make his impudent remarks about me or my bonnet! if i chuse to wear a large bonnet, i suppose it's no business of his, or anybody else's; the fact is, that that bonnet is quite a new one, i bought it just before this ridiculous fashion set in of wearing no bonnet at all--a fashion, let me tell you, that i am determined never to follow; besides, i found that altering would only spoil it, and i was not a going to do that to please no one. besides, you will allow that it was very hard after paying for a large full-sized bonnet, to throw, as it were, so much of it away to waste, and to make a small one of it; and then i beg to tell the "govener," as those fellows call him, whoever he may be, that it is a very rude thing to stick one's picture up in the shop windows for every body to stare at, and make their rude remarks upon. i suppose i am not obliged to spoil all my dresses in order to follow this _draggletail_ fashion; and as to my being too late "agen," as that vulgar creature says, why, i am quite sure that i have never been behind time more than ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at the outside. besides, do not you invite ladies in particular to patronise your omnibus, and promise to accommodate them? let me tell you, sir, it's no accommodation to ladies, unless you can wait a few minutes for them. now, when a gentleman is going out, he has nothing to do but to put his hat on; but consider, sir, the number of things we have to look for when we are going out--bracelets, gloves, handkerchiefs, reticules, smelling-bottles, watch and chains, lockets, rings, parasols, and perhaps clogs--not to mention the difficulty of tying on one's bonnet sometimes to please one; and then again, there is the pinning of one's shawl or scarf, particularly if you've got a stupid bit of a girl to worry your life out, all of which you gentlemen know nothing about, and can't understand. and there are other reasons if i chose to mention them. i can tell you that my hairdresser was very near losing my custom for ever; and i dare say my milliner will learn the necessity of sending a dress cap home in time to try it on before one goes out another time. in conclusion, sir, i have only just to say, that all this hurry-skurry, and flying about after your omnibus, and being stuck up in the shop windows, has made me extremely ill; and i have only to add, that i have written to my friend, colonel walker, to acquaint him with the whole business, and if he advises me to enter an action for damage and libellous treatment, i shall certainly do so.--i am, sir, your humble servant, (although insulted,) sarah toddles. _neat cottage, smallwood's rents, little chelsea, july 26th, 1841._ p. s. i am quite sure that this _punctuality_, as gentlemen are so particular about, will lead to serious mischief to the public; see what it has done in my case, in consequence of your omnibus not waiting for me. my dress cap (which my _fool_ of a girl had done up in _coloured_ paper that _run_) was entirely spoiled by the rain, so that i shall never be able to wear it; and two respectable tradespeople, you see, were nearly losing a good customer. p. p. s. i open this letter to say i have just discovered that i have lost a very nice cambric pocket-handkerchief, and a bracelet is gone that i would not have lost for _any money_; besides which i got my feet wet, through going without my clogs. * * * * * [illustration] *** we readily give insertion to the above letter, and while we regret the lady's disappointments, beg to assure her that no impertinence was intended by anybody connected with the omnibus. we shall be proud to number her among our passengers if she can contrive, at some future period, _to be in time_. we lament her indisposition; but of course a lady of her good sense will not fail immediately to consult dr. buchan, or the erudite culpepper; if we _might_ suggest, we should respectfully advise the lady to put her feet in hot water, and to take a glass of nice warm rum and water, with a bit of butter in it. [illustration] [illustration: ghosts. _designed etched & published by george cruikshank--oct^r. 1^st 1841_] frights!--no. iii. it may be doubted whether malignity itself occasions greater mischief in the world than _fun_. if society may count up its thousands of victims to the venomous propensities of the envious and the revengeful, so may it also reckon its thousands of martyrs to propensities the very opposite to theirs--victims to passions the most joyous and guileless--to feelings the most sportive and child-like; in short, to a taste for frolic--to a love of _fun_. the malice of an enemy is sometimes not more dangerous than the gamesomeness of a friend; the slanderous tongues of the envious and the vile often prove far less sharp and fatal, far less productive of permanent misery to the innocent, than the jocularity of a prankish old fool of a nurse, or the light-hearted sally of an affectionate but deplorably stupid parent. there is plenty of tragedy in this life, acted in earnest; but there is a good deal of real poisoning done "in jest." people _will_ sport jokes that are no jokes. to every domestic circle into which this page may penetrate, the subject will perhaps suggest some recollection of disasters more or less serious that have arisen from silly and unthinking frolics, prompted more especially by that for which human nature has so intense, so enlightened, and so philanthropic a relish--the fun of frightening people. we hope it may be from no bitter or melancholy experience that the reader concurs with us in seeing "no fun in it." the merry laughing face of this species of "fun," has proved a death's-head ere now; the figure of "fun" has turned out to be a hideous hobgoblin with outstretched arms--a finger-post pointing to the next lunatic asylum. if the fatal consequences that frequently ensue from these practical jests admitted of any feeling in the mind, associated however remotely with ridicule, how exquisitely ludicrous would the position of that man appear, who having enjoyed his funny trick, and played out successfully his game of fright, beholds his triumph in the pallid visage, the wild glance, the trembling limbs, the hurried pulse, the panting heart of the object of his cruel sport; and becoming alarmed in turn at the effect which he had taken such pains to produce, is obliged to make some attempt to palliate his error and to chase away the spectres he has conjured up, by exclaiming in the most deprecating and apologetic tone--"i never thought it would have frightened you so, it was only my fun!" we almost wish that the legislature would--just for the "fun" of the thing--pass some law that might reach these reckless and desperate experimentalists, and punish the humorous players upon people's nerves, with a severity proportioned to the whimsicality of the hoax. the law recognises the criminality of those who carelessly or wilfully sport with the safety of people's legs, arms, or necks; and it is peculiarly severe upon all who heedlessly venture to trifle with the sacredness of our goods and chattels; but it has no eye to the playful freaks of practical jokers, to whose insatiable thirst for fun the credulous child, the timid girl, the weak-nerved woman, fall victims; it has no ear for the short sudden shriek that bursts involuntarily from white and quivering lips, sounding not unfrequently the knell of sanity in those who utter it, or proclaiming the approach of vacant, hopeless, miserable idiocy. the disciples of this school of fun are sure to find plenty of nerves admirably suited for them to work upon. children are prepared for the sport almost in their cradles. nine out of ten are trained up in terror. they are taught the destructive lesson of fear, before they can even spell the word. before they can speak plainly, they become practised in the instinctive expression of their feelings, by shuddering, screaming, and crying their little hearts out, at the idea of "bogie," and the horror of being left alone in the dark. the very moment this idea is engrafted upon the sensitive mind, the instant this horror takes possession of the child's imagination, it loses something of the health and happiness to which it was born. the dread of being in the dark--of being alone, and in the dark--clouds perhaps all its after life. it sees nothing that really is, in its true light, from the fear of seeing something which is not. the influence of the first horror of "bogie," remains for years and years after the particular species of "bogie" that had excited the agony of alarm has become an absurdity too childish to be even laughed at. unconsciously, the mind is sensibly affected, in ten thousand different forms, by the very image which it despises and ridicules. the silly bugbear of the nursery has an abundant and most appalling progeny. in this, more perhaps than in any other respect, may it be said that "the child is father of the man." the idea of darkness as something terrible would in few instances be fixed in the mind, were it not for the cruel and senseless practices, by which servants of all grades--we may add, teachers of some--work upon the imagination of children. they are taught to see in darkness a natural enemy, as they are sometimes taught to regard school as a punishment. "if you are not good, you shall be shut in the dark closet,"--or "if you don't behave better, you shall be sent to school immediately." these are family phrases not yet quite out of fashion. the consequences now and then take an unexpected turn. a little damsel of our acquaintance was shut up in a dark room; she cried bitterly, violently, for the first five minutes; then all was suddenly still--quite still; ten minutes went on, and yet there was a dead silence within. the family at length began to be uneasy--then frightened--too frightened to go and ascertain the cause of the phenomenon. at length they rush forth and burst open the door, when they discover that the little victim had--alone and in the dark--found her way to a plate of cheesecakes left accidentally in the apartment, and was making herself extremely ill for want of other amusement. * * * * * how many wits have been set wandering by roadside horrors, raised up from the elements of the ridiculous! the simplest objects become the means of deadly mischief. a donkey in the deep shadow, a cow in the dim moonlight, a stump of an old tree, a white finger-post at the corner of a by-path, have produced in myriads an agony of agitation; but what are these to the good old english country ghost, the elements that compose which we here set in their uncombined, and therefore unterrifying forms, before the spectator. why, here are agents by which even the most unskilful may succeed in frightening a whole parish--nay, a county. look upon these the simple means, and then behold the easily manufactured ghost! [illustration] but of all fields for frights the church-yard is the most productive of terrors! yet why? whosoever wanders over one in the daytime will find, be he in town or country, that he is surrounded by none but the most amiable and affectionate people in the world--by the kindest of relations--the faithfullest of friends. such people are little likely to start from behind their tombstones, in the dark, for the mere pleasure of frightening benighted wanderers. in a churchyard, if the inhabitants be rightly described, there should be no terror! but what shall we say for a church, the sanctuary of the disturbed passions, a temple dedicated to sacredness and love. yet where is the pious individual who would feel no tremor, if left to pass the night within the gothic aisles of such an edifice? in the vulgar superstition all churches are haunted, so also is every house that happens to be "in chancery." there are two classes of haunted tenements--one celebrated for mysterious sights, and the other for mysterious sounds. the old cock-lane ghost, and the various modern editions of that personage at cambridge and elsewhere, are specimens of the visible; the recent mysteries at windsor and dublin are examples of the audible. opinions differ as to which is the truly terrible. for ourselves, though shadows without substances are eminently agitating--noises without the slightest possible cause--noises, sudden, strange, and above all self-existent--noises of this kind at midnight--in the wainscot, in the next apartment which is empty, in the room below where the gentleman took the dose of poison by mistake--are not, we make bold to confess, a sort of sound that we should like to go out of our way to listen to. [illustration] of the audible ghost, addison's comedy of the "haunted house" contains the noisiest representative on record; and perhaps defoe's account of the apparition of mrs. veal appearing to her friend, presents the visible ghost in most extraordinary reality to our all but believing eyes. but talk of believing--we shall put the reader's faith to the test, by inviting him to take a peep into a "haunted house" which we have fitted up for his reception. hark! * * * * * we remember two of papa's friends who were "regular story tellers." mr. o'brien had a store of irish legends (of these hereafter); mr. t. smith had a variety of ghost stories. of one of these a haunted house was the scene--a whole family of ghosts the dramatis personæ. we must premise, that at the time referred to, it was the fashion to wear "pigtails," and mr. smith, who had eschewed "pig-tail" and patronised "short cut," or crop, used to say when asked what he had done with his pig-tail, that "thereby hangs a tale," which joke he retailed at every opportunity. we may also intimate that a good "ghost story" was in those days a valuable little property. mr. smith seldom dined at home, and always passed his evenings at other people's firesides. in truth, for more than three parts of the year, his "ghost story" procured him "bed, board, and lodging," gratis, including "coals and candles." now then, let the reader imagine a small family party seated round the fire, on a winter's evening, and let mr. smith tell his own story in his own way.---i was staying (he began) some years back at squire calf's, at danglewitch-hall, near nantwich, in cheshire: my friend, o'brien here, was also a visitor. ("sure i was," says mr. o'b. with a grin--he was a merry fellow that o'b.) one evening the conversation turned upon clay-hall, an old deserted mansion, that was reported to be haunted. strange sights, strange sounds, and strange stories, filled the neighbourhood with alarm; and what surprised me at that time was, that all the danglewitch people seemed firmly to believe in them. being a little elevated, i bantered the family upon their ridiculous fears--i have since learned to pay more attention to other people's opinions--and so enraged the squire, that he offered to bet fifty guineas to one, that i would not dare to sleep in that house for one night. no sooner said than "done," cried i, and proposed to go immediately. the squire instantly ordered the servant to get the key from the old women at clay-park lodge, to light a fire in the blue-room, and to provide, besides a pipe and tobacco, a good bottle of brandy. the whole party, in a merry mood, sallied forth to conduct me to my quarters. soon after i wished them all good night, and fastened the door. i had a brace of pistols and a good sword-stick. i drew my sword and went over the house at once, to see that the fastenings were secure--for though not afraid of ghosts, i objected to being surprised by robbers. everything was in a dilapidated state, but i ascertained that the locks and bolts, although rusty, were sufficiently strong to resist an intruder. i was also certain, that no one was concealed. i then proceeded to my apartment, which was on the first floor at the back of the house. i slowly ascended the large staircase. the sound of my footsteps echoed through the empty mansion. as i approached the landing i was startled by a sudden noise, like the slamming of a door, and recollected that one of the upper rooms was without a fastening. all was silent again. i could hear myself breathe. i then held up the light, and looked first up, and then down, the well staircase, and began to feel that i had done a rather foolish thing--there might be after all a secret inlet--i might be robbed, murdered. but it was too late to recede; and the fear of being laughed at overcame every other fear. i now entered my chamber and secured the door. the bright fire and the candles gave a cheering look to a room otherwise dreary enough; for it was of large dimensions, and its colour was a deep dingy blue. at one end stood a huge four-post bedstead, hung with dark blue tattered damask curtains, edged with black; the head of each post was ornamented with a ragged plume of dark-blue feathers, which gave to it rather a funereal appearance. i examined every part, and beneath the bed perceived a large chest, which i found to be firmly locked. pushing it aside, i proceeded to explore the two closets that flanked the fire-place. amongst a quantity of loose lumber, wig boxes, hat boxes, and odd slippers, i discovered an old black letter volume (a good deal nibbled), but, as sir walter scott says, "worth its weight in gold for all that;" it was "god's revenge against murther." i just gave it a bang upon the table to knock out the dust. the blow produced a most tremendous noise that nearly stunned me, and was echoed apparently from every corner of the building, followed by the rattling of falling mortar behind the wainscot, and a scampering as if ten thousand rats were flying in all directions. the cloud of dust almost stifled me; but not quite overcome, i applied myself to my brandy, and filled my pipe, stirred the fire, snuffed the candles, opened my book, and began to read. i read on in silence, broken only by the regular puffing of smoke, the ticking of my watch, and the singing, or rather sighing, of the kettle. the book absorbed my whole attention. i was insensibly moved by its revelations. i was so worked upon by it that i felt a kind of lifting of the chair beneath me, and a peeping shadow appeared evermore between the candle and the page. suddenly, at a most exciting point, i heard a gentle rustling of the bed-curtains. on looking round--horror! never to be forgotten!---i distinctly saw a tall figure enveloped in a long night-dress, which touched the ground. it was standing sideways towards me, so that the face was hidden by a large feminine cap, which, however, it removed and threw upon the bed, discovering a most fearful and ghastly profile. it went through the operation of making its toilet before a small glass, then looked towards the trunk, and then to the bed. after a moment's hesitation, the trunk was opened, and it proceeded to put on an old-fashioned brocade dress. the figure then, after surveying itself in the mirror, slowly turned round, and moved towards me. i felt my blood curdle, my flesh crawl. it passed the foot of the bed, and advanced towards the door. the eyes were cast down; the hand was upon the fastenings. at this instant the village clock struck, or rather tolled out twelve--and as the last stroke of the bell floated on the breeze, the figure gradually raised its head, and fixed upon me a pair of horrible glaring eyes that turned my heart to ice. a sharp sliding noise on the wall opposite made me turn to look, and the two portraits, a lady, and an officer in a blue uniform, appeared to be leaning out of their frames, and watching me intently. the figure then hastily passed out of the room, uttering a screaming note, wilder than the moaning wind. this was answered seemingly from the cellars by a most hideous long-drawn howl, followed by the rattling of locks, bolts, and chains, and a confusion of strange unearthly sounds. i sprang up and seized my pistols. there was a dead silence. i could distinctly hear a whispering, not only on the stairs, but in the closets, the doors of which were slowly pushed open, and more than one pair of eyes flashed upon me from the dark; in an instant the door of the room creaked slowly, and i beheld two or three parchment faces, with fiery eyes, gazing at me. i made now a desperate effort, and levelling a pistol either way, uttered a fierce menace, threatening to fire, if they advanced. this threat was answered by a queer sort of tittering and snuffling; in desperation i pulled the triggers; the result was a double flash in the pan, which overspread the room like a sheet of blue lightning. then broke forth--a laugh--ten times more horrible than the laughter of a herd of hyenas--i could endure no longer, and sank into the chair, the pistols dropping from my hands. there was a dead pause, and i heard something like the mewing of a cat, yet seemed it like the voice of a child in distress; and my attention was attracted by the appearance of a black skeleton of a cat, who was setting up its back, growling and spitting. it then slowly advanced and prowled round the fire-place, and sitting down opposite to the fire with its back towards me, turned its head, and its fearful green eyes met mine. i next heard the whelping of a cur, and the distant, hollow, wolf-like baying of a watch-dog. the sounds approached; the dog-chain rattled up the stairs. i tried to seize my sword, but was paralysed. i could just glance towards the door, whence came a strange, shuffling sound, and the next moment i saw an extraordinary figure enter, with a large carving-knife in his hand. he was dressed in blue livery, with tags--a round paunch--high bony shoulders, and spindle-shanks--he wore a blue welsh wig--and his nose, which was of enormous size and hooked, was of a deep blue also: it was like burning brimstone. he was followed by a skeleton-like figure; also in livery, and armed like his fellow. these stood and stared at me. they were followed by a figure, marching into the room with an air of consequence. he was not prepossessing: dimly-glaring saucer-eyes, with a decided cast in them; a small, pinched bit of blue nose; a spacious mouth, with a tooth or two exposed; the look of age diffused over all. he was wrapped in a blue dressing-gown, and wore a large curled blue wig. as _he_ entered, all appeared blue--the candles, and the fire, whose flames curled themselves into the likeness of some ghastly thing. the whole company, for there were now many intruders, seemed covered with blue mould; they were the children of mildew and decay; they looked damp and slippery. the veteran in the dressing-gown advanced to the fireside with dignity, and looked at me with a withering scowl. i guessed at once that he was, or _had been_, the master of the mansion, and politeness prompted me to rise. he motioned me to be seated, and then took a chair. a little boy was at his side, and the stately figure of a lady also stood near him--other faces peered over his chair. my venerable host then bent forwards, and placing his hands upon his knees, looked sternly in my face and said, in sepulchral tones,--"_pray, sir, did you ever hear that this house is haunted?_" * * * * i was thunderstruck! what answer could i make? not a moment was allowed me for reflection, for i instantly felt a violent tug at my pigtail behind, and the brimstoned-nose butler, leering in my upturned face, exclaimed, "and you don't believe in ghosts!" my terror was at its height. i heard no more; but i _saw_--i saw the knife flashing, and felt that, though my head was not off, my pigtail was gone! shouts of exulting malice rent the air---but here mr. smith was interrupted by a shout of exulting laughter from one of his listeners. it was mr. o'brien. "o, ho!" screamed that gentleman; "i'll be kilt intirely. a mighty ingenious tale you've made of it, mr. smith. and sure i must tell the thruth, if you bate me for it. sure and wasn't it the day after we had the stag-hunt, and didn't you get so over head and ears in liquor that you went sleep-walking about the house all night, disturbing the people that were fast asleep: and the night after, sure didn't we tie your pigtail to the bell-rope at the head of the bed, to keep you still, or give us notice of your rambles--and a pretty good notice we got, by the powers! for what wid the bell ringing and your bawling, we thought the house was on fire. i'll never forget seeing you pulling one way and the bell pull pulling the other--and all we could do, we could not keep you aisy, till we undid your tail; so faith it was betty, the cook, i remember, who whipt out her scissors, and cut the knot. oh! oh! och!--and that's the _thrue_ way you lost your pigtail, mr. smith." [illustration] irish simplicity. a military officer, living in barracks, ordered his irish servant to boil him an egg for breakfast, adding an injunction to "boil it soft." the officer took up the newspaper and read for ten minutes, then wondered why his egg did not arrive, and rang the bell.--"my egg?"--"i'm seeing about it, sir." another five minutes elapsed. "where's this egg?" "not done, sir." "not done! do you mean to keep me waiting all day?" "bring it directly, sir." still no egg came; the bell rang once more: "where _is_ the egg?" thundered the officer. "yer honor," cried thomas, in alarm, "didn't you tell me to bile it soft, sir! and haven't i biled it this quarter of an hour, and it isn't soft yet." [illustration] little spitz. a lenten anecdote, from the german of professor spass. by michael angelo titmarsh. "i think," said rebecca, flinging down her beautiful eyes to the ground, and heaving a great sigh--"i think, signor lorenzo, i could eat a bit of--sausage." "of _what_?" said lorenzo, bouncing up and forgetting all sense of politeness in the strange demand. "my dearest madam, _you_ eat a sausage?" "ha, ha, i'm blesht," shouted abednego, the banker, rebecca's papa, "i'm blesht, if signor lorenz does not think you want to eat the unclean animal, rebecca, my soul's darling. these shtudents are dull fellows, look you, and only know what's in their books. why, there are in dis vicked vorld no less than four hundred kindsh of shausages, signor lorenz, of which herr bürcke, the court-butcher, will show you the resheipts.--confess now, you thought my darling wanted to eat pig--faugh!" rebecca's countenance, at the very idea, assumed an expression of the most intolerable disgust, and she gazed reproachfully at lorenzo. that young man blushed, and looked particularly foolish, as he said: "pardon me, dearest madam, for entertaining a thought so unworthy. _i did_, i confess, think of pork-sausages, when you spoke, and although pretty learned on most subjects, am indeed quite ignorant upon the matter of which herr abednego has just been speaking." "i told you so," says abednego. "why, my goot sir, dere is mutton-sausages, and veal-sausages, and beef-sausages, and--" "silence, papa," said rebecca, sharply: "for what has signor lorenz to do with such things? i'm very sorry that i--that i offended him by asking for any dish of the kind, and pray let him serve us with what he has." rebecca sunk down in a chair looking very faint; but lorenzo started up, and swore that he would have himself cut up into little pieces, stuffed into a bladder, and made sausage-meat of, rather than that the lovely israelite should go without the meat that she loved. and, indeed, such was the infatuated passion which this young man entertained for the jewess, that i have not the least doubt but that he would have been ready to do as he said. "i will send down immediately into the town," continued he, "and in ten minutes, my messenger will be back again." "he must run very fast," said the lady, appeased, "but i thought you said, signor lorenz, that you kept but one servant, and that your old housekeeper was too ill to move?" "madam, make your mind quite easy.--i have the best little messenger in the world." "is it a fairy," said the jewess, "or a household demon? they say that you great students have many such at your orders, and i should like to see one of all things." "you shall see him, dearest lady," replied the student, who took from a shelf a basket and a napkin, put a piece of money into the basket (i believe the poor devil had not many of them), and wrote a few words on a paper which he set by the side of the coin. "mr. bürcke," wrote he, "herr hofmetzler, (that is, mr. court-butcher,) have the goodness to send, per bearer, a rixdollar's worth of the best sausages--_not_ pork." and then lorenz opened his window, looked into his little garden, whistled, and shouted out, "hallo! _spitz!_" "now," said he, "you shall see my familiar;" and a great scratching and whining was presently heard at the door, which made rebecca wonder, and poor old fat abednego turn as yellow as a parsnip. i warrant the old wretch thought that a demon with horns and a tail was coming into the room. the familiar spirit which now made its appearance _had_ a tail certainly, and a very long one for such a little animal; but there was nothing terrible about him. the fact is, it was lorenz's little turnspit-dog, that used to do many such commissions for the student, who lived half a mile out of the city of krähwinkel, where the little dog was perfectly well known. he was a very sagacious, faithful, ugly little dog, as ever was seen. he had a long black back and tail, and very little yellow legs; but he ran excessively fast on those little legs, and regularly fetched his master's meat and rolls from the city, and brought them to that lovely cottage which the student, for quiet's sake, occupied at a short distance from town. "when i give him white money," said lorenz, caressing the little faithful beast, that wagged his tail between the calves of his master's legs, and looked up fondly in his face, "when i give him white money, he goes to the butcher's; when i give him copper, he runs to the baker's,--and was never yet known to fail. go, my little spitz, as fast as legs will carry thee. go, my dog, and bring with thee the best of sausages for the breakfast of the peerless rebecca abednego." with this gallant speech, which pleased the lady greatly, and caused her to try to blush as much as possible, the little dog took the basket in his mouth, and trotted down stairs, and went off on his errand. while he is on the way to krähwinkel and back, i may as well mention briefly who his master was, how he came to be possessed of this little animal, and how the fair jewess had found her way to a christian student's house. lorenz's parents lived at polkwitz, which everybody knows is a hundred leagues from krähwinkel. they were the most pious, orderly, excellent people ever known, and their son bade fair to equal them in all respects. he had come to krähwinkel to study at the famous university there; but he never frequented the place except for the lectures; never made one at the noisy students' drinking bouts; and was called, for his piety and solitary life, the hermit. the first year of his residence, he was to be seen not only at lectures, but at church regularly. he never ate meat on a friday; he fasted all through lent; he confessed twice in a month; and was a model for all young students, not merely at krähwinkel, bonn, jena, halle, and other german universities; but those of salamanca and the rest in spain, of bologna and other places of learning in italy, nay, of oxford and cambridge in the island of england, would do well to take example by him, and lead the godly life which he led. but i am sorry to say that learning oftentimes begets pride, and lorenzo tisch, seeing how superior he was to all his companions, ay, and to most of the professors of the university, and plunging deeper and deeper daily into books, began to neglect his religious duties at first a little, then a great deal, then to take no note of them at all; for though, when the circumstances of this true history occurred, it was the season of lent, lorenzo tisch had not the slightest recollection of the fact, not having been at church, or looked into an almanack or a prayer-book, for many months before. lorenzo was allowed a handsome income of a hundred rixdollars per year by his parents, and used to draw this at the house of mr. abednego, the banker. one day, when he went to cash a draft for five dollars, the lovely miss rebecca abednego chanced to be in the room. ah, lorenzo, lorenzo! better for you to have remained at home studying the pons asinorum; better still for you to have been at church, listening to the soul-stirring discourses of father windbeutel; better for you to have been less learned and more pious: then you would not have been so likely to go astray, or allow your fancy to be inflamed by the charms of wicked jewesses, that all christian men should shun like poison. here it was lent season--a holiday in lent, and lorenzo von tisch knew nothing about the matter, and rebecca abednego, and her father, were absolutely come to breakfast with him! but though lorenzo had forgotten lent, the citizens of krähwinkel had not, and especially one herr bürcke, the court butcher, to whom tisch had just despatched spitz for a dollar's worth of sausage-meat. the visits of tisch to the jew's house had indeed caused not a little scandal. the student's odd, lonely ways, his neglect of church, his queer little dog that ran of errands for him, had all been talked of by the town's-people, who had come at last to believe that lorenzo was no less than a magician, and his dog, as he himself said in joke, his familiar spirit. poor spitz!--no familiar spirit wert thou; only a little, faithful, ugly dog--a little dog that tisch's aunt konisgunda gave to him, who was equally fond of it and him. those who know krähwinkel (and who, i should like to know, is not acquainted with that famous city?) are aware that mr. bürcke, the court butcher, has his handsome shop in the schnapps-gasse, only a very few doors from abednego's banking-house. mrs. bürcke is, or used to be, a lady that was very fond of knowing the doings of her neighbours, and passed many hours staring out of her windows, of which the front row gave her a command of the whole of that beautiful street, the schnapps-gasse, while from the back the eye ranged over the gardens and summer-houses without the gates of the town, and the great road that goes to bolkum. herr lorenzo's cottage was on this road; and it was by the bolkum-gate that little spitz the dog entered with his basket, when he went on his master's errands. now, on this day in lent, it happened that frau bürcke was looking out of her windows instead of listening at church to father windbeutel, and she saw at eleven o'clock mr. israel löwe, herr abednego's valet, porter, coachman, gardener, and cashier, bring round a certain chaise that the banker had taken for a bad debt, into which he stepped in his best snuff-coloured coat, and silk stockings, handing in miss rachael in a neat dress of yellow silk, a blue hat and pink feathers, and a pair of red morocco slippers that set off her beautiful ankle to advantage. "odious people!" said mrs. bürcke, looking at the pair whom mr. löwe was driving, "odious, vulgar horse!" (herr bürcke kept only that one on which his lad rode;) "roman-nosed beast! i shouldn't wonder but that the horse is a jew too!"--and she saw the party turn down to the left into bolkum-strasse, towards the gate which i have spoken of before. when madame bürcke saw this, she instantly flew from her front window to her back window, and there had a full view of the bolkum road, and the abednego chaise jingling up the same. mr. löwe, when they came to the hill, got off the box and walked, mr. abednego sat inside and smoked his pipe. "_ey du lieber himmel!_" screamed out mrs. bürcke, "they have stopped at the necromancer's door!" it was so that she called the worthy tisch: and she was perfectly right in saying that the israelitish cavalcade had stopped at the gate of his cottage; where also appeared lorenzo, bowing, in his best coat, and offering his arm to lead miss rebecca in. mrs. bürcke could not see how he trembled as he performed this work of politeness, or what glances miss rebecca shot forth from her great wicked black eyes. having set down his load, mr. israel again mounted his box, and incontinently drove away. "here comes that horrid little dog with the basket," continued mrs. bürcke, after a few minutes' more looking out of the window:--and now is not everything explained relative to herr lorenzo tisch, miss rebecca abednego, and the little dog? mrs. bürcke hated spitz: the fact is, he once bit a hole in one of her great, round, mottled arms, which had thrust itself into the basket that spitz carried for his masters provisions; for mrs. b. was very anxious to know what there was under the napkin. in consequence, therefore, of this misunderstanding between her and the dog, whenever she saw the animal, it was mrs. b.'s wicked custom to salute him with many foul words and curses, and to compass how to do him harm; for the frau hofmetzlerinn, as she was called in krähwinkel, was a lady of great energy and perseverance, and nobody could ever accuse her of forgetting an injury. the little dog, as she sat meditating evil against him, came trotting down the road, entered as usual by the bolkum-gate, turned to the right, and by the time madame bürcke had descended to the shop, there he was at the door, sure enough, and entered it wagging his tail. it was holiday lent, and the butcher-boys were absent; mr. bürcke himself was abroad; there was not a single joint of meat in the shop, nor ought there to be at such a season, when all good men eat fish. but how was poor spitz to know what the season was, or tell what his master himself had forgotten? he looked a little shy when he saw only madame bürcke in the shop, doubtless remembering his former disagreement with her; but a sense of duty at last prevailed with him, and he jumped up on his usual place on the counter, laid his basket down, whined, and began flapping the place on which he sat with his tail. mrs. bürcke advanced, and held out her great mottled arm rather fearfully; he growled, and made her start a little, but did her no harm. she took the paper out of the basket, and read what we have before imparted to the public, viz.:--"_mr. court butcher, have the goodness to send per bearer a rixdollar's worth of best sausage meat_, not _pork.--lorenz tisch._" as she read, the dog wagged his tail more violently than ever. a horrible thought entered the bosom of mrs. bürcke, as she looked at the dog, and from the dog glanced at her husband's _cleaver_, that hung idling on the wall. "sausages in lent!" said mrs. bürcke: "sausages to be fetched by a dog for that heathen necromancer and that accursed jew! he _shall_ have sausages with a vengeance." mrs. bürcke took down the cleaver, and * * * * * about twenty minutes afterwards herr lorenzo tisch opened his garden gate, whither he had been summoned by the whining and scratching of his little faithful messenger. spitz staggered in, laid the basket at his master's feet, licked his hand, and fell down. "blesh us, dere'sh something red all along the road!" cried mr. abednego. "pshaw! papa, never mind that, let's look at the sausages," said his daughter rebecca--a sad gormandizer for so young a woman. tisch opened the basket, staggered back, and turned quite sick.--in the basket which spitz had carried so faithfully lay the poor little dog's own tail! * * * * * what took place during the rest of the entertainment, i have never been able or anxious to learn; but this i know, that there is a single gentleman now living with madame konisgunda von speck, in the beautiful town of polkwitz, a gentleman, who, if he has one prejudice in the world, has that of hating the jewish nation--a gentleman who goes to church regularly, and, above all, never eats meat in lent. he is followed about by a little dog--a little ugly dog--of which he and madame von speck are outrageously fond; although, between ourselves, the animal's back is provided with no more tail than a cannon-ball. "this night vauxhall will close for ever!" (by laman blanchard.) [illustration] these were the words--or rather, this was the line of heartbreaking octosyllabic verse--that met the gaze of the living on every dead wall of the metropolis. they stared at me from the newspapers, they glared on me from the shoulders of perambulating board-men, they rang in my ears everywhere--vauxhall will close _for ever_! had it been the "pyramids to be sold by auction, by george robins," or "the positively last fall of the falls of niagara;"--had it been the "final extinction of mount etna," or "the moon shining for this night only, after which it will be disposed of to cheesemongers, by sale of candle, or private contract," my spirit had been comparatively untroubled;--but vauxhall! truly does our great wordsworth tell us that there are thoughts which lie too deep for tears. i cannot cry, though this be a crying evil; my pen must weep its ink-drops over the event. had a dozen union-workhouses been erected on epsom downs, or a national school supplanted the grand stand at doncaster. had the bank of england itself been turned into alms-houses, or the royal academy announced the last day of drawing--these, and millions of such minor evils, i could well have borne. some substitute for the departed might yet have been discovered. were there no bread, cheap or dear, at home or abroad, and all the bakers above-ground had burnt themselves to cinders in their own ovens, still could we have gone to the pastry-cook's for comfort, and have eaten buns. but the royal gardens shut!--closed for ever!--hammered down!--the light put out, which no promethean lampman can relume! where should othello go? "the days of my youth," i exclaimed aloud, as i wandered sorrowfully through the brilliant avenues of the doomed garden on the last night--"the days of my youth, where are they?" and an echo answered, "here we are!" and there they are indeed, buried for ever in dark vauxhall, knocked down as part of the fixtures, swept away with broken lamps and glasses, with the picked bones of vanished chickens, and the crumbs of french rolls that are past. to have visited vauxhall, like bricks, for so many years, only to find bricks and vauxhall becoming one! but what a last night was that! there were many visions in one. from the vauxhall of victoria, fancy reverted to the vauxhall of the first george, and the walks became immediately peopled with periwigged beaux, and courtly dames fresh from the frames of kneller. never did living eye behold such a congregation of grotesque beauties, out of a picture-gallery. the paint was brilliant as the great master's canvas, the arrangement of the patches was a triumph of art, the flash of the diamonds made the lamps look dim, the flutter of fans filled the air with a delicious freshness. all the wits of the last century were there, from steele and addison to fielding and goldsmith, and from these to sheridan, and the gallant roysterers of a later era. there was beau brummell;--it was the first night the world ever saw the astonishing spectacle of a starched cravat--the first night the great discoverer of starch ever exhibited to the vulgar gaze his sublime invention. that morning, a friend who called upon him encountered his servant on the stairs, descending from the beau's dressing-room, with a whole armful of stiffened but rumpled cravats--there were at least seventy of the curiosities.--"what, in the name of mystery, have you got there?" inquired the friend,--"what _are_ those _things_?" "these, sir?" responded the valet,--"o, _these are our failures_!" the beau's cravat justified that night, by the perfection of its folds, the multiplicity of experiments. that seventy-first trial was indeed a triumph. * * * * * in the twinkle of an eye, what a change!--beau brummell had disappeared for ever! renown and grace were dead. the stately dames had gone: fans, feathers, diamonds--all; and in their place appeared a very queer collection of feminine miscellanies, young and old, some from the country, some from the outskirts of the metropolis, dodging here and there, rushing from sight to sight, too eager and excited to see anything clearly; expressing their wonder in mingled peals of "my eye!" "well, raally now!" and "lauk-a-mercy!"--exclamations which were interrupted by frequent appeals to a bag of thick, home-manufactured sandwiches, borne on the arm--or critical observations on the ginger beer. the beaux, too, had vanished; and instead of the sir plumes, revelling in the "nice conduct of their clouded canes," came a crowd of london lads, with boots innocent of warren and hands guiltless of gloves--creatures, at the bare sight of whom through a telescope, sir plume himself would have fainted. and as for the wits--behold, where they of late perambulated, a troop of practical jokers, staggering forwards through the walks, or gathered in twos and threes and half-dozens in the supper-boxes, extinguishing lamps, smashing crockery, beating in the crowns of hats, and it may be smoking cigars in a kind of open secrecy. * * * * * short, however, is the duration of this scene. retreating into another walk, out of the way of the reeling revellers, i obtained a new view of the yet famed and once fashionable gardens; and now, methought, their glory was indeed departed. the place, which before was brighter than the day, seemed the temple of twilight. the most brilliant lamp it boasted shed but a miserable dimness round. the genius of vauxhall was in the position of damocles--only, instead of the sword it was a hammer that was suspended over her. nothing flourished there but the universal enemy--decay. the gardens seemed to hold a place between earth and the eternal shades. the words "darkness visible," formed the most conspicuous object,--the letters, of an enormous size, were composed of grey and black lamps, which the rain, descending in torrents, was fast putting out. a transparency, representing melancholy playing the bagpipes, had a very striking and sombre effect; and another exhibition of a fountain that had ceased playing, with a pair of black swans floating in the puddle beneath, proved truly attractive to the few low-spirited stragglers that remained. a beautiful dioramic view of the elysian fields, brilliantly illuminated, drew my attention; but on going to look, i saw nothing but a few acres of gloomy waste land, with a board, displaying the notice, "this ground to let on building leases." the farce performed in the rotunda was "blue devils," at some of the scenes in which the audience were quite broken-hearted, and the actors were called for amidst general sobs. in the orchestra, the muffled drum was extremely admired; the violins, reduced to one string, crumbled under the hands of the players like touchwood, otherwise their notes would have been highly dispiriting; the larger instruments spoke in hollow murmurs; the flutes gave forth the parting sighs breathed into them by the asthmatic and fading musicians. ramo samee, reduced to a nonentity, flung the balls up without even an effort to catch them, and the sword, like macbeth's amen, "stuck in his throat." one "swallow" would have been a summer to him. the waiters went about with umbrellas and lanterns to collect orders. through their threadbare, meagre, fleecy habiliments--coats of scotch mist, and continuations of london fog--might be traced their thin and fleshless forms. something sharper than penury had worn them to the bones--the sense that their occupation was gone. they shuffled from walk to walk, from box to box, carrying broken plates with faint impressions of various delicacies; semi-sandwiches were on some, and on others were exhibited narrow slices of transparent and shadowy ham. the soda-water they brought had caught the hue of the bottles, and it trickled forth in showers of tears. the sparkling champagne was perfectly still; the very punch was "drowned" in the bowl, spiritless and stagnant. the chicken looked as if it had been deposited for the last few years in the mummy-room of the british museum. the tongue might have belonged to the first fat buck shot by robin hood. those weak, wan, dilapidated waiters! those fossil remains of a forlorn hope! as the night advanced they grew more attenuated. the "any orders?" dwindled to a whisper, and the "coming, sir!" lapsed into a scarcely audible sigh. they had hardly strength enough left to carry away the fragments of a tart. they glided about like ghosts amidst the expiring lamps. another hour elapsed, and everything denoted the end of the change. ruin had seized on all. the arrack dried up in the bowl, ere it could be carried to the appointed box. every glass was cracked, every fork had forfeited a prong; and in the darkness and confusion men carved with the handles of their knives, macadamising their suppers! the trees and shrubs lost their natural character, and became yews and cypresses; and extending from branch to branch were to be seen large cobwebs, having the hue and substance of slices of boiled beef. then there was a general rush through the rain to see the invisible fireworks. what a sight was that! the catherine wheels were stationary; the rockets changed their minds as they were going up, and the whiz was but a consumptive cough; the roman candles had all been accommodated with extinguishers; and the shells broke their inflammatory hearts in smoke and silence. three reluctant and doubtful bangs from a solitary cracker sounded the requiem of the pyrotechnic art! then methought the company began to "disperse" indeed. arms put themselves within other arms, and moved on, while the legs that had once belonged to them sought the promenade in another direction, and dragged themselves across it as over a ploughed field. the persevering and inexhaustible spirit of vauxhall, however, was yet animate in some; and my eye caught glimpses of strange groups--parts of people--sometimes the lower extremities--sometimes the upper--disjointed dancers, all performing quadrilles in spasmodic movements, under umbrellas, to inaudible music, supplied by the apparitions of fiddlers. * * * * * now came, on a sudden, another change. a light appeared in what had always been the dark walks of the garden, and as it advanced exhibited the figure of the celebrated old hermit. his head hung on his breast, as with a consciousness that his hour of oblivion was nigh, and he carried his closed volume under his arm. another figure, scarcely less shadowy, joined him; it was simpson,--yea, simpson's self! the unforgotten master of the ceremonies. they advanced, arm in arm; and as they approached the spot on which i stood, riveted with awe, who should make his appearance, as though he descended from the air, but a third great adventurer--one equally immortal, but happily far more mortal than either--the undaunted and untiring aeronaut, mr. green! on the instant, the ground beneath opened, and the great nassau balloon sprung upward, already filled with gas. i saw that the _finale_ had arrived. green embraced the ghost of the departed master, and, surrendering his own place, handed him into the car, into which he was followed by many of the unfading luminaries of the "property" in past and present times. in the moment of ascent, simpson, my venerable preceptor in the arts of politeness, the acquaintance of my youth, perceived me in the crowd; he stretched forth a hand, which felt as cold, damp, and impalpable as fog, and, shaking mine, exclaimed with his usual urbanity, "one pinch at--parting?" i felt in my pocket for my snuff-box, eager for a friendly participation, when suddenly--quick as lightning, in fact--i felt a sharp tap on my shoulder; and on looking round-i found myself amidst the old well known blaze of lights, surrounded by myriads of smart and merry loungers, with police constable 142 x arousing me as people are aroused from dreams, and saying, for my comfort, "come sir, come! why, you're asleep as you walk. you've been robbed, i tell you; for your pocket's turned inside out." * * * * * i got home about three, and at last fell asleep in reality. i dreamed that vauxhall gardens were entirely built over, covered with finished and half-finished houses, in streets and terraces; and that i was actually reposing at that moment in no. 16, arrack-place, looking upon sky-rocket-crescent. methought there was a universal complaint among the inhabitants, of supernatural noises in the night. not a wink was to be had for the tunings of musical instruments, the calling for waiters, the shouting of "encore," the mingling of thousands of voices; all crowned with peals of laughter, and whispers of "how tired i am, sure-ly!" each night at twelve, every occupier of a tenement on that famous site was awakened from his first sleep by a multitudinous exclamation of, "o! oh! oh-h-h!" accompanied by a light, blue, red, green, yellow, et cetera, and a shower of falling sparks. [illustration "the cloud-capp'd trees, the gorgeous avenues, the brilliant lamps, the blazing fireworks, the gilded saloons, the slender sandwiches, yea, the great rotunda itself, shall dissolve- and leave not _arrack_ behind!" _simpson and shakspeare._ ] [illustration] a tale of the times of old. it was a maiden young and fair, she sat and watch'd within her bower, in days of yore when warriors were, and belted knight, and moated tower; long, long ago! she sat and watch'd one summer's eve- why doth she so? why will not she her lattice leave? ah, those were days when maids were true! the hour was come,--and well she knew. it was a squire, a gentle squire, came spurring darkly down below; his steed was splashed with foam and mire, oh, what but love could urge him so? 'twas even so, he crept beneath the castle-wall, long, long ago, and on his love began to call; the damsel o'er her lattice hung, he touch'd his lute, and thus he sung: "they told me, love, that thou wert fair, and very fair thou art, 'tis true; they said thy cheeks like roses were, thy lips, 'two rosebuds wet with dew;' but is it so? could ever flower with thee compare? ah no! ah no! oh never yet was rose so fair! could flowers like thee in gardens grow, the gardeners all were blithe, i trow. "they said thine eye was like the star, the brightest star that beams above, which men may gaze on from afar, admire and watch, in fear and love; but is it so? was ever star so soft and fair? ah no! ah no! oh, would such stars in heaven there were how glad i'd watch till morning's light, to peep and worship all the night." it was her sire, a surly knight, he slept, and slept, with many a snore; he heard the song, and woke in spite, and left his couch, y-grumbling sore. he look'd below, then seized a huge cold-water bath- long, long ago- and flung it o'er, in rage and wrath!- the squire flew off, the damsel fled, and then the knight went back to bed. b. hall. an anacreontic fable. [illustration] cupid, a spoiled and peevish boy, is always wanting some new toy; and what is more, his mother venus never denies--_quodcunque genus_- any odd thing the urchin fancies, from kings and queens to scullery nancies. his fondling mother, t' other day, gave him some hearts wherewith to play; no sooner did the rascal take them, than he began to bruise and break them! h. r. frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter vii. from the moment that war was declared against the french republic, the navy of england reigned supreme upon the ocean; and such was the vigilance and gallantry of our tars, that scarcely a cruiser showed her nose out of an enemy's harbour, but she was quickly led by it into a british port. the captain of the thunderbolt was a thorough seaman of the hard-fighting school, and with such an example in his commander, and with a private tutor like honest ben, to teach him the practical details, young heartwell could not fail to become well versed in his several duties. in lord bridport's action, off l'orient, his ship was one of those most actively engaged, and gained great credit; but on her return into port, she was paid off, and the whole of her company transferred to a noble three-decker, which subsequently took the lead in the mutiny at spithead. it is unnecessary to enter into details of this event--in which the enemies of england sought to injure and humble the flag of britannia, through the disaffection of her hardy seamen. emissaries were constantly at work, endeavouring to inflame their passions, and poison the source of honour; but though the gallant tars were true to themselves, and to each other, they were also faithful to their country. ben, as a matter of course, had joined his brother sailors in their equitable demands, and sambo had very naturally followed the example. frank's conduct, during this eventful period, was governed by the strictest sense of integrity. he was well aware that the claims of the seamen had been utterly disregarded by the government; and though averse to insubordination, yet he felt that they had been driven to extremities through the neglect of their remonstrances. but on all occasions in which the most violent counselled outrage, he boldly stood forward to counteract and oppose their schemes, and by appeals to those who only sought to obtain redress of grievances he was generally successful; especially in one instance, when sir alan gardner, sir john colpoys, and sir maurice pole, came on board the queen charlotte, to hold a conference with the delegates. sir alan, a rigid disciplinarian, who had been extremely irritable throughout the proceedings, was so exasperated by a fresh demand, that he swore at the delegates as "a set of mutinous dogs," and declared he would "have every one of them hanged--together with every fifth man in the fleet." the circumstance spreading through the ship like wildfire, the after-part of the main-deck was crowded by hundreds, ready to support their leaders. the sturdy admiral gave them a look of defiance, and shouting "make a lane there!" spread his hands out on each side to force his way to the entrance-port--nor was he sparing of blows. frank had witnessed the whole of the proceedings, and now saw with apprehension, that a number of the most violent characters were closing in upon sir alan. in all commotions, ben and the black made it a point to keep near their young officer, and at this moment they were close to him. frank spoke to the seaman, who passed the word to sambo, and then all three rushed forward; ben exclaiming, "avast there--don't go for to touch the admiral!" numbers of the better-minded caught up the impulse, and followed the three, who cleared a road for sir alan to retreat; ben and the black levelling the opposition. the admiral got down the side into his boat, and immediately shoved off for the shore. sir alan gardner did not forget this timely aid of the young midshipman, for on earl howe coming down to settle the disputes, frank was appointed to steer sir alan's barge; when the noble earl and his countess, accompanied by several persons of distinction, embarked to pay an amicable visit to the ships at st. helen's and spithead. it was a most interesting spectacle; the barges of the men-of-war each carrying its delegates assembled, on a may morning, and pulled in for the sally-port. the men were dressed in their best clothes, and the most perfect order and regularity was preserved, whilst the seamen on board the ships were anxiously watching them, for rumours were current that the earl had brought down the required proclamation, ensuring a general pardon. on landing, the delegates proceeded to the governor's house, where they had an audience of the earl, and an affecting scene it was. the venerable nobleman in his seventy-second year--his head silvered over with age and arduous service, and arrayed in the uniform in which he had so nobly maintained british supremacy on the ocean, received the rebellious seamen graciously; and it was curious to observe the downcast and schoolboy looks of many of the hardy tars, who, but a few hours before, were in open and daring mutiny. but when the noble admiral, in the affectionate language of a father to his children, exhorted them to obedience and subordination, and even shed tears, as he declared that a continuance of the mutinous proceedings would break his heart, the rough dispositions of the seamen gave way, not in childish weakness--no! they evinced their stern emotion in habits peculiar to themselves, though it was evident every soul was moved. there stood their chief who had led them on to victory, subdued by the weight of calamity which had threatened his country. after partaking of refreshment, in which the bold tars were waited upon by female youth and beauty, a procession was formed, and earl howe and his lady, with the admirals and captains, several accompanied by their families, walked to the sally-port. during the interval frank had proceeded to the royal sovereign's barge; and when first recognised, he was pointed out as the midshipman who had been instrumental in resisting the indignation of the queen charlotte's men, and rescuing sir alan gardner, and numbers of the disaffected loudly expressed their disapprobation. ben held the distinguished post of coxswain to lord bridport; but as a lieutenant was expected to steer earl howe out to the fleet, he had resigned the rudder in the queen charlotte's barge, and stationed himself at the stroke oar. the moment the honest fellow saw the feeling that prevailed against his officer, he addressed the boat's crew in a few energetic words, appealing to them who knew the merits of the midshipman, as a smart officer, but a seaman's firm friend. it was a day of joy and reconciliation; and they felt it; for whilst the tumult against frank was increasing, the bargemen of the queen charlotte simultaneously approached him, and having given a hearty cheer, he was hoisted on the shoulders of two of the stoutest amongst them, and in procession with the union jack in front, they carried him to and fro the beach, amidst the reiterated plaudits of thousands who had collected to witness the embarkation. this demonstration from his shipmates was enough; the bargemen of the other men-of-war were satisfied; and those who but a few minutes before had been loud in their anger, were now equally vociferous in their praise. in the midst of their joyousness, earl howe and the delegates reached the sally-port, and instantly the boats were manned; and as they shoved off, and formed in order, the roars of the saluting cannon and the shouts of the populace mingled together in one vast burst of enthusiasm; and as the boats neared the ships, their armed sides poured forth responsive peals--the yards were manned--and joy sparkled in every eye. frank acquitted himself with great dexterity throughout the day, and all differences being adjusted with the seamen, they returned to the shore, where earl howe landed, about seven o'clock in the evening, and was carried on the shoulders of the delegates to the governor's house. thus peace and harmony were restored to the channel fleet, which put to sea on the following day, to meet the enemy. frank had now been three years away from his mother, without seeing her; and though they frequently corresponded, he earnestly longed to visit her again. the capture of an extremely valuable ship from senegal, in which frank was placed as second prize-master, afforded him an opportunity of returning to england, and as on her arrival at portsmouth she was ordered to proceed up the thames to deptford, he now was enabled to repair to finchley. it would be impossible to describe the young midshipman's feelings as he approached the cottage. helen was for the moment forgotten: he opened the door, and in a few moments was in the embrace of his parent. the interesting scene was not unobserved, for in a remote part of the room sat a young lady, a gratified but agitated spectator of all that passed. as soon as the ebullition of joy had subsided, mrs. heartwell called her visitor to remembrance, and frank and helen met--at first with a degree of embarrassment, for they had in their memory pictured each other as they had last parted, nearly four years before, when both were in the gradual advance from childhood to maturity. frank was then but a youth, but now he appeared the full-grown man, and seldom could there be seen a handsomer, or more candid countenance. now he saw helen before him in the perfection of female beauty, just entered upon womanhood; and yet both heart and features were the same, for as soon as the first few minutes had flown, reserve was banished and they conversed with ease as old acquaintances. in private retirement the young officer learned from his mother and mr. unity peach, (who came purposely to see him, and to grumble at all that he had done) that brothers, the supposed prophet, had been apprehended under a warrant from the privy council; and after careful examination by two able physicians, had been declared insane, and placed in fisher's lunatic asylum, at islington--that nothing had been heard respecting brady, who it was supposed, had quitted the kingdom for ever. the young people had now frequent opportunities of seeing each other, and every interview served to strengthen the ardent attachment which both cherished, but neither of them confessed. a little incident, in which frank had relieved helen from an importunate and insulting mendicant, who had intruded upon the grounds, first opened the eyes of mr. wendover. the merchant loved money, and he had, in a great measure, set his heart upon aggrandising his name and family, through helen's union with a man of rank and opulence. without leading her to think that he was aware of her regard, he spoke to her on the subject of frank's attentions, gained a full and perfect knowledge of her secret, and ascertained that in no instance had frank addressed her in what is termed the language of love, nor had at any time openly avowed his affection. mr. wendover at once acquitted both mrs. heartwell and her son of sinister and dishonourable conduct; but his own line of procedure was determined upon, and he resolved to remove his daughter without delay to an estate he had recently purchased on the coast of cornwall, where he trusted that absence would effect a change in the bosom of his child. great was the consternation of the young officer, when on his next visit he heard of their sudden and unexpected departure; and his impassioned and incoherent expressions when it was announced to him, betrayed the state of his heart to his mother. it was the first disappointment of the kind he had ever experienced, and its suddenness had overpowered him; but the reasoning and remonstrances of his parent restored him to more tranquil feelings. she encouraged him "to persevere in his profession, and by gaining an honoured and distinguished name, he perhaps might remove the bar which parental authority had seen fit to interpose between them." "you are right, mother," said he with firmness. "i will yet prove to mr. wendover that i am not unworthy of his daughter's regard." the prize he had come home in was condemned, and the prize-crew were removed to the guard-ship at the nore; but frank obtained leave to pass a few days at finchley previous to his joining them, and the indulgence thus extended was a source of great relief to his irritated feelings. [illustration: _frank heartwell discovering the treasure._ london, tilt & bogue, fleet street.] a night or two before his departure, he was awoke by a strange noise. at first he conjectured it might be caused by rats, and he endeavoured to compose himself to sleep again; but the sounds were so continuous and harsh, that after some time he rose and looked out at the window, when it instantly ceased. he stood for several minutes, earnestly gazing towards the splendid mansion of mr. wendover, his thoughts wholly absorbed by remembrances of helen; and when he again laid himself down, sleep had utterly departed. in a few minutes the strange noise was renewed. frank listened, and the hollow grating sounds seemed to be caused by some one scraping the outer wall of the building. he arose, and wrapping his cloak round him, crept noiselessly down to the door--the knocking on the building still continued, but ceased as he undid the fastenings, so that when he stood in the open air everything was again still. he had descended without his shoes, which he returned to put on, and then walked round the cottage and through the garden, but nothing whatever appeared to elucidate the mystery. the next night he was aroused again by a noise rather more dull and heavy; as the rear of the building seemed to be the place of operation, he crept down to the back-door, and rushed out just in time to see a man jump down from a ladder reared against the gable-end. the intruder sprang over the wall and escaped. without removing the ladder, frank determined to watch; and though once or twice he fancied he could perceive a commotion amongst the foliage of the adjoining plantation, yet he remained unmolested till broad daylight, when he ascertained that the intruder had been working with a pick, to loosen several bricks in a part of the wall that was covered with ivy, and at a few feet below the eavings. a little reflection prompted frank to further search; and by removing the thick mantling ivy he discovered that, at some period or other, an addition had been made to the side of the building, and that there was a considerable space between the outside and the in. his curiosity was strongly excited--the apartment he had slept in appeared to be everywhere the same; but on sounding round it, he ascertained that the part next to that where an attempt had been made to open an aperture, was of stout wood-work, carefully covered with the same papering as that which was on the other walls of the room. he was not long in deciding what to do. seizing a tomahawk, which had formerly belonged to ben, he cut down the partition, and taking a light, passed through the opening he had made into a long narrow room that ran the whole depth of the house. surprised as he was at this discovery, his wonder was still more increased, when ranged in various parts he observed several strong cases and boxes. on his right appeared an iron-bound oaken chest, on the top of which lay a cushion now damp and mouldy, but it was evident that it had formerly been used as a sort of seat or couch, as a table was close to it, bearing a lantern, a wine-glass, an inkstand with a pen in it, and remnants of writing-paper much torn by vermin. suspended against the wall above the table were a brace of handsomely-mounted horseman's pistols, a dragoon's sword, a blunderbuss, and a bunch of rusty keys, whilst beneath was a stone bottle containing a small quantity of ardent spirits, and an empty wine-bottle. in other parts were books and papers much defaced, and the writing scarcely legible, whilst in one spot upon the floor were four or five canvas bags, part of the contents of which (guineas) had escaped through holes gnawed at the bottom, and now lay glittering before the eyes of the young officer. in the floor of this room was a trap-door, which frank raised up, and perceived there was a ladder beneath, down which he descended, and found himself in an apartment of the same dimensions as the one above, but more lofty, and a strange sensation crept over him, as he beheld what looked like coffins piled one upon the other, but on examination proved to be arm-chests, painted black, and containing muskets and bayonets. there were also several barrels (which frank, from experience, knew at once to be powder-barrels), placed apart by themselves; and the head of one of them having been beaten-in, a quantity of ball-cartridge became exposed;--in short, with pistols and sabres, and the necessary accoutrements, there was good equipment in arms and ammunition for several hundred men. from this room a flight of stone steps, slimy with reptiles and the damp, led into a kind of cellar, having in one corner a very large copper, and at a short distance from it a deep well; whilst broken worms and shattered liquor-casks, with the remains of various implements, offered proofs that an illicit distillery had formerly been carried on here. on one side was a vaulted underground passage, arched over, that was nearly filled with rubbish; but frank, following its apparent direction in the garden, ascertained that it led to a stable (which was seldom used) at some distance in the rear of the cottage; and here he found that attempts had been made to break through a doorway that had been bricked-up, and an opening formed, large enough for a man to get through, but the archway having fallen in, and the passage completely stopped, further progress had been prevented that way. frank and his mother consulted together as to the best course to be pursued; and mrs. heartwell recommended her son to go and apprise mr. wendover's steward of the discovery. that individual promptly attended, accompanied by a legal agent, who informed the young midshipman that he had no claim whatever to the property, which belonged as a matter of right to the lord of the manor, and he accordingly took possession for mr. wendover; and before his departure, frank saw the whole deposited in security at the hall. how to raise the wind. by captain marryat, r.n. the votaries of fashion are considered heartless. can they well be otherwise, when they worship a deity so remorseless and so unfeeling? fashion not only ruins her own followers, but she is continually plunging into poverty and distress those who know nothing of her until they find that through her means they have become outcasts, deprived of their means of subsistence, and that their children are crying for bread. it is no matter how trifling may be the alteration which has been enforced by this despotic goddess, this is certain, that that alteration has been the cause of misery to hundreds; and if the step taken by her is one of magnitude, not only thousands, but whole towns, nay provinces, on the continent are thrown from want of employment into misery. the town of woodstock is one proof, out of many, how severely a community may suffer from change in fashion. the gloves formerly made there, and the manufacture of which had become a trade and means of livelihood to so many large families, are now no longer worn. the people had been brought up to this trade, and were not competent to any other, until they had begun anew and learnt one in their advanced life. woodstock was once a flourishing town; now it has dwindled into comparative obscurity. thus it has been, thus it is, and thus it will be with many more; for fashion ever changes, and every change is accompanied with a petty revolution, attended with distress, which her votaries, glorying in their close attendance upon her ear, either never hear of, or which, if heard by them, is received with nonchalance and indifference. i have been drawn into the above remarks in consequence of my whole story depending upon an article which is now no longer to be seen--indeed, i may add, is no longer to be mentioned but in a circuitous manner. why this extreme squeamishness has latterly taken place i really cannot imagine. a garment is but a garment; and as we may talk of all other garments used by either sex without fear of offence, why should this one have latterly fallen into disgrace? at all events, i must either mention this unmentionable article, or not tell my story. i have, therefore, only now to give due notice to all ladies who may already surmise what the article in question may be, that now is the proper time for them to close the book, or to skip over to the next contribution, for my narrative is wholly dependent upon a pair of them. i remember when i was a boy, i should say about forty years ago, when this article of dress was considered not only to be indispensable, but also indispensable that it was made of buckskin. it was worn high up, reaching to the chest, met with a very short waistcoat; add to these a blue coat and metal buttons, and the hair well powdered, and a fashionable man of 1800 stood before you. there were inconveniences attending buckskin; but when fashion dictates, her votaries overcome all obstacles; _pride knows no pain_, is an english proverb, met by one from the opposite side of the channel, _il faut souffrir pour être belle_. the difficulty of getting into a pair of these articles, after they had been cleaned, was considerable; and when they became wet, they were anything but comfortable to the wearer. however, they have passed away, and this country has gained by their disappearance; for the leather out of which they were made came from the continent, and the wool of this country has now occupied its place, in the cloth trousers which have succeeded them. and now to my story. before railroads were dreamt of, and people were satisfied with eight miles an hour, there was a certain person at liverpool, who had gone down there on some sort of speculation or another; but whether it was to purchase cotton, or to attend the races, or to do a little business in any other way, does not exactly appear. this, however, is certain, that his speculations, whatever they might have been, failed, and that he found himself in the widest street in the town with exactly one guinea left in his pocket. one guinea would not pay his fare to london, whither he had decided upon going. he was, therefore, left to his own resources; that is, the resources of an ingenious mind, to help the one-pound-one, which was in his waistcoat-pocket. it was not until he had walked up and down the long street for at least the tenth time that he came to any resolution: at last he slapped his buckskins, as much as to say _i have it_, and walking on a little farther, he looked at the clock which was in the coach-office, crossed the street, and went over to the hotel, which was directly opposite. but i must now describe the appearance and dress of the person in question. he was a man of about thirty-five years of age, of handsome exterior, tall, and well made; he wore powder, a white cravat, a blue coat, very short figured waistcoat, and the articles in question, to wit, a pair of buckskin inexpressibles, to which must be added a pair of white top-boots. he had also a surtout-coat, of fine cloth, over all, but which was unbuttoned when he entered the hotel. in short, he appeared to be a dandied, rakish sort of gentleman of the time, with a look and manner implying that he had plenty of money to spend, and did not care a fig for anybody. no one could have ever imagined, with such an external appearance, that he had no more than one guinea in his pocket. our gentleman walked into the coffee-room of the hotel, and took his seat in one of the boxes, with an air of pretension. in an authoritative tone he called the waiter, and when the waiter came, he called for the bill of fare, which was humbly presented. our gentleman ran down its contents. "i'll have a bit of fish, waiter,--which do you recommend to day?" "all good, sir; but cod and oyster-sauce just in season." "well, then, let it be so, with a broiled chicken and mushrooms. if i recollect right, you had some good wine here once?" "yes, sir--we have the same bin now--the port you mean, sir?" "yes, the port; tell mr.---i forget the landlord's name." "mr. bansom." "very true;--tell bansom to let me have a bottle of his best, and a pint of good madeira for dinner." "yes, sir. when will you have your dinner?" "as soon as it can be got ready. in the mean time get me a newspaper." in due time the dinner made its appearance, and ample justice was done to it by our gentleman. after the cloth was removed, the port wine was produced, and this he appeared determined to enjoy, as he remained at table sipping it until every other person who had been in the coffee-room had quitted it, and he was left alone. he then poured out the last glass, rang the bell, and demanded his bill. it was all ready:- £ _s._ _d._ fish 0 2 6 fowl and mushrooms 0 5 6 madeira 0 4 0 port 0 7 0 ------------ total, including extras 1 4 6 "not dear, i must say," observed the gentleman, after he had read the bill; "i must patronise this house again. the port is really good wine; i knew it again directly,--£1. 4_s._ 6_d._--half-a-crown for the waiter, £1. 7_s._" then the gentleman put his hand into his right waistcoat pocket, and felt for his purse, found it not there, so he inserted his other hand into his left waistcoat pocket, no purse there.--"hum," says he, with surprise; down went his right hand into the pocket of his buckskins on the right side, no purse there; down into the left, even to the bottom, no purse there.--"the devil!" exclaimed he, feeling his coat pockets, as a last hope--both empty. "why, waiter, i've left my purse!" exclaimed he, rising up from his seat; "and now, i perceive, i've not my watch and seals. i must have left them both on the table. you don't recollect me--what must i do?" "if you please," replied the waiter, respectfully, coming to the point, "you must pay your bill." "of course i must," replied the gentleman; "i cannot expect you to trust me; what can i do? i must leave you something in pledge." "if you please, sir," replied the waiter. "what shall it be--my surtout coat? i can spare that." "yes, sir," replied the waiter, who surveyed his coat, and was satisfied; "that will do." "well, then, help me with it off. on second thoughts, i do not think i can let you have my coat, i have suffered so dreadfully with the rheumatism in my shoulders. i dare not, upon my soul, i daren't; you must have something else. what shall it be--my boots, my new white top-boots?" "i think, sir, you couldn't well walk away in stockings without getting cold and rheumatism," replied the waiter. "very true, what a fool i am! but so unaccustomed to be placed in so awkward a position, i do believe i've lost my senses--to give my boots were madness. i'll tell you how it shall be, waiter, i'll give you my buckskins--bran new--worth two pair of boots; i shan't miss them if i walk fast and button up." "as you please, sir," replied the waiter. after a deal of trouble, the buckskins were in the hands of the waiter; our gentleman pulled on his boots again, buttoned his surtout close in front, and promising to redeem them faithfully by his servant the next morning, quitted the hotel, holding himself very erect, that no opening in the front of his surtout should discover that he was minus so very important and indispensable an article of habiliment. our gentleman did not walk very far; he crossed the street and entered the hotel which was opposite to the one which he had just quitted, and from which he knew that the coaches went to london. again he walked into the coffee-room, took his seat without his deficiencies being perceived, and calling the waiter, said to him--"the coach starts from this hotel to london, i believe?" "yes, sir." "at what hour?" "at half-past five exactly, sir." "well, then, i shall take a supper and a bed; and here," continued he, throwing his guinea down on the table, "book me an inside place by the name of mr. william baring." the waiter had heard of the name before, and bowed respectfully. "any luggage, sir?" "no, i took my place this night by the mail, and was compelled to stay on important business just as i was getting into the coach. my luggage went on, i shall find it when i arrive." our gentleman ordered a good supper, and at half-past ten requested to be shown to his bed-room. "boots," said he, "recollect you call me at half-past four exactly, as i am hard of waking. don't forget; and if you don't see me getting up in five minutes, rouse me again." "yes, sir," replied the boots. at half-past four the boots made his appearance with a lanthorn, and after some considerable shaking, our gentleman roused up and sat by the side of the bed. the boots had lighted the candle, and stood by. "yaw--aw!" said our gentleman, shaking himself and yawning. "how horrid it is to be up before daylight. ah, well! boots, give me my stockings." "yes, sir." the stockings were slowly dragged on. "now then boots, my buckskins." the boots turned over the other garments, looked here and there, and upon every chair; at the foot of the bed, and in the bed, under the pillow, under the bolster. "i can't see no buckskins, sir." "pooh, nonsense! man." another useless turn round the room. "well, i'm sure, sir, i can't see them." "how very odd!" exclaimed our gentleman; "perhaps i'm sitting on them." he rose, but there were no buckskins under him. "how excessively strange! you didn't take them away with you when you took the boots, did you?" "no, sir; i never comed into the room. you put your boots outside." "so i did, now i recollect; but still the buckskins must be found." another ineffectual search of five minutes, during which our gentleman gradually showed that the serenity of his temper was ruffling, till at last he became in a furious passion. "by heavens! this is too bad: in a respectable house, too. boots, go up to your master, and tell him i must see him immediately--say immediately, and without delay--mr. william baring--recollect, instantly!" in a few minutes the landlord of the hotel made his appearance, half dressed, and not very well pleased at being compelled to turn out at such an unseasonable hour; but the name of baring had been mentioned, and was not to be trifled with. "you wish to speak to me, sir?" "yes, sir, i do wish to speak to you. i came here last night, having been obliged to give up my place in the seven o'clock mail, in consequence of pressing and important business which detained me. i booked myself by the fast coach, supped and slept here, desiring that i might be called in good time, as my immediate return to london is important. on my being called and getting up, i found that somebody had stole my buck-skins--that's all--nothing more. my buckskins--buckskins, sir, have disappeared!" "i'm very sorry, sir--very sorry; can't imagine how. some mistake, i presume," stammered the landlord. "my buckskins are gone, sir, and no mistake," replied our gentleman. "i considered this a respectable honest house, sir, but it appears----" this attack upon the respectability of the house made the landlord angry--it was a sore point. "my house is respectable, sir--always has been respectable, sir--always will be, i trust. no gentleman ever lost his buckskins here before, sir. what they brought they have always taken away!" "why, sir!" exclaimed our gentleman, in a towering passion, "what do you mean to imply, sir? do you suppose that a gentleman would come here _without_ such an _indispensable_ article of dress?" "no, sir, no," replied the landlord, who cooled down as his adversary became excited; "i didn't mean to say that, sir." "then you'll just hear what i have to say, sir," replied our gentleman: "i'm not to be robbed in this barefaced way;--and the credit of your house, sir, is gone; for as soon as i arrive in town, i will write a letter to the times, chronicle, herald, post, and morning advertiser, stating the whole of the infamous transaction, and sign it with _my own name_, sir--with my own name; and then we shall see how long you are in a position to rob the public in this way. yes, sir, and my lawyer shall send you a letter, as soon as i arrive in town, for an action of damages and recovery, sir." then our gentleman walked rapidly up and down the room, his shirt waving to and fro as if it was as much excited as himself. "i'm very sorry, sir--very sorry," said the landlord; "but, sir, i have a pair of double-milled trousers which i think would fit you, so as to enable you to go to town, until the buckskins can be replaced." "double-milled! thank you, sir. you appear to consider my loss as only amounting to a pair of buckskins, mr. landlord; but who, sir, is to repay me the forty pounds and upwards, in bank-notes, which were in the pockets of my buckskins--heh! sir?" this was, indeed, a new feature in the case, which the landlord did not expect. "forty pounds odd, sir!" exclaimed the landlord. "yes, sir, forty pounds. let me see, forty-four pounds exactly. now, sir, is that money to be forthcoming?--in one word, sir--there is no time to lose. if i miss the coach, i post all the way to town at your expense, as soon as i have procured something to put on. the house of baring can't go to town in its shirt--the house of baring will be revenged, sir--your treatment is past bearing, and--i give you five minutes to decide." the landlord did decide. the buckskins had disappeared--the credit of his house was at stake--the house of baring was his enemy--there was no help for it. the double-milled and £45 were handed over--the wrath of our gentleman was appeased--he even, before he slipped into the coach, promised to patronise the hotel. the coach had been on the road about six hours, when the waiter stepped over to his chum, the waiter of the hotel opposite, to tell him what a shindy there had been about a pair of buckskins; the other waiter produced the buckskins left in pledge; and on their description of our gentleman, no doubt was left but that, although not probable, it was very possible that a gentleman could come into an hotel _without his inexpressibles_. the landlord was almost frantic at having been so imposed upon; but, as usual in all such cases, he soon made up the loss incurred by our gentleman's visit to the hotel, by charging it upon those who came there, not only with buckskins, but with money in their buckskins-pockets; and thus ends my story of "how to raise the wind; or, the buckskins." a peep at bartholomew fair. "out, out, brief candle!"--macbeth. something whispers us that we should here commence moralising, that we should first expatiate on the nothingness of worldly gaud and greatness--enlarge on the changefulness of human prospects, and discover to our readers' view the myriads of blanks with which that fraudulent jade fortune dilutes the few prizes she dispenses from her wheel. but then again, another something whispers us, we had far better get on with our subject, and we think we had. be it known then, that ever since a certain morning, (anno domini something,) when our nursery-maid walked us through bartholomew fair, and showed us _all_ the pretty things, and treated our little palate to one or two of the nice ones, we have felt a remarkable passion for fairs--bartholomew fair in particular. we will adventure to measure our love for it against that of its tutelar saint--but alas! we forget--it has no tutelar saint now; he has long since turned his back upon it. yes, when prosperity went hand in hand with it, when joy, mirth, and splendour, were its friends, _then_ could that faithless guardian--but, we must commence again, this is too moral--too moral by half. once more then. it was the last day of bartholomew fair, and from some unaccountable cause, we had not been near the spot. but it was not yet too late. we bustled up at the thought, hastily pinned our handkerchief inside our hat, emptied all our pockets--save one, divested our person of watch and jewelry, (for we hold it heinous to encourage picking and stealing,) and then hurried out in the direction of smithfield, resolving in the plenitude of our joy to visit every show, have a ride in every swing, take a chance at every penny turn, roll the marble down every tower of babel, and pink with every winning needle, for the sake of lang syne. five years had we been away from england--five years had we been absent from our own dear fair; and yet, how well we remembered our last walk over the same ground, about the same hour, and on the same errand. what pleasure it was now to see that so little change had taken place in the streets! there, stood the old oyster-rooms exactly the same as ever; yonder, was the public-house beside the gateway, just as dirty, just the same people at the doors, just the same noise within as when we last passed by. there was even the same crooked old post at the corner. recollection seemed as it were to shake hands with these objects as old familiar friends, and we pushed on with even yet more joy in our bosom, and ardent expectation in our heart, to the great--the prince of fairs. our heart leaped for joy as we shot past a little shop, displaying drums, dolls, kettles, portable tea-services, singing cuckoos, bow-wow poodles, and armies of soldiers barracked in flat deal boxes, with a background of whips, scratchers, trumpets, squeakers, diminutive culinary apparatus, and waterloo-crackers: we say, our heart leaped for very joy at the sight; but it leaped no more that night, for, from that moment disappointment marked us for her own. there now insensibly crept upon us strange forebodings and presentiments that all was not right, for although close upon the fair, we felt no wonted squeeze, heard no confusion of tongues, saw no confluence of people all driving and pouring up the road to one point. no announcements of hot green peas, fried sausages, cooked eels, or other bartholomew delicacies, came wafted on the breeze;--no ginger-beer stands, corn-plaster venders, brass-sovereign sellers, or spiced-elder-wine compounders, lined the street: the throng was even less than we had seen upon an ordinary cattle-day. we grew frightened; and rushing forward, peeped into the fair itself. in that peep, the thermometer of our joy fell full five hundred degrees below zero. why, where are the shows? where are the swings? where are the turn-abouts--the round-abouts? where are the people? where, _where_ is the fair? but down, struggling feelings, down, and let me write calmly. in 1841 there were but two shows in the great bartholomew fair! we now walked up the gingerbread walk--the _only_ gingerbread walk. time had been, when our first act was to store a pocket with the best spiced nuts, for until we had eaten a few of those little cakes, we never felt ourself in the fair; but now, we hadn't the heart to taste one. nor nuts nor any gauds had charms for us. we gazed with a pitying eye on all. we saw black ruin hovering over and already darkening smithfield's grandeur--we beheld destruction suspended only by the last weak thread of custom, which time with his scythe, or pocket-scissors, was about to sever, to the extinction, the total annihilation, of our own--our beloved fair. in consequence of the prohibitory price asked for the lawful groundage, _two_ shows had been forced to take unfurnished lodgings in hosier-lane. this, was indeed a blow! to see two, old, aboriginal exhibitions--one miscellaneous, the other mechanical, with waxen kings, clock-work queens, and spring-wire princes, barbarously driven from their native fair--unhappy refugees, and sojourners in narrow-streets and hosier-lanes! rumours there were too, that one other miserable exile had sought an asylum in a neighbouring farrier's shop; that there, in the front of certain festoons of dirty red cloth which veiled an ugly forge, the pincers, hammers, anvils, and other appurtenances of farriery, wizards were manufacturing puddings in the company's hats, causing real beer to stream from any given part of any little boy, and pulverising watches in mortars, as choice ingredients for soup; but we lacked curiosity to go and test the truth of such reports--these shows were not _in_ the fair, therefore over us possessed no magic influence. with a heavy heart we next sauntered by the groups of stalls, whereon were spread various fruits and seductive viands--articles of savour for such as were edaciously disposed; but nobody seemed hungry; people passed and repassed, and scarcely glanced at the temptations. true, oysters appeared somewhat in demand, as did certain vinegary relishes in tiny white saucers, but as to the more substantial boiled tripe, fried fish, pigs' feet, pickled salmon, &c., none but the smallest boys approached the stalls, and they, not to buy--only to enjoy a look. the very cries of the doll and toy women, as they recommended this article or that to the dreamy by-standers, seemed muffled with sadness; and the gipsy gambler who was casting dice upon an old tea-tray, and relieving one or two dirty-faced urchins of their farthings, seemed to be realising scarcely sufficient to pay for the flaring candle which lighted his dishonesty. we now stood opposite wombwell's menagerie. this was the star, the hyperion of the fair--it stood out bright and undaunted as in happier times--it was the last gallant upholder of poor smithfield's dying splendour. we admit that there was a crowd before this show, but it was not a bartholomew-fair crowd. there was wanting--that pulling, that pushing, that hallooing, that hooting, that screaming of women, that shrieking of children, that treading on toes, that losing of shoes, that knocking in of hats, that demolishing of bonnets, that crying for help, that squeezing of ribs, that contest between "stream up" and "stream down," which there always was in days of yore. such, do we remember as the features of a legitimate bartholomew crowd; whilst from the surrounding shows, there thundered the clanging of gongs, the firing of pistols, the springing of rattles, the bellowing of speaking trumpets, the ringing of bells, the crashing of horns, with fiddles, bag pipes, cymbals, organs, drums, and the hoarse voices of the showmen, all uniting and confusing into one loud, discordant, ceaseless roar--oh! happy, thrice happy days! to the left of the mighty wombwell, like some tributary satellite, was a smaller--very much smaller show--a sort of domestic _multum in parvo_--a wee locomotive ark, as it were--into which, on some curious principle of condensation, the ingenious proprietor had compressed a dwarf, an abyssinian princess with vermilion eyes and snow-white hair, a living skeleton, a remarkably accomplished pig, and several other monstrosities--exclusive of drum, barrel organ, household furniture, and his family. over the doorway of this accommodative cabin swung an iron dish, in which flared some grease and oakum, that threw a dull flickering light upon the portraiture above the van, which represented, among other things, the ruby-eyed princess combing her silver locks in the presence of company, the dwarf poised in a giant's hand, and the crichton of pigs engaged in a game of cards. on the steps of this exhibition, dressed in a green velveteen shooting-coat with large moon buttons, and a red shawl wound about his neck, stood the proprietor himself. from top to toe he looked the showman; but the care upon his brow--the spiritless voice in which he reminded the scant mob about him of its being the last night of the fair, and exhorted them not to neglect the golden opportunity of witnessing his pig, dwarf, &c., told us that he, like ourself, was the victim of chagrin and disappointment. there had been a time when his hoarse voice rehearsing his catalogue of prodigies would have been drowned in the clamouring din around him, but now every word, every sentence he uttered, was pitiably distinct. "now, walk for'ard, walk for'ard!" he exclaimed, his wife accompanying his voice on the watchman's rattle _ad libitum_. "only a penny remember! one penny there! the last night--one penny!" but nobody moved, nobody walked forward--the whole crowd seemed penniless. "don't stand fingrin' the suv'rins in yer pocket, young men, till yer vares 'em as thin as vafers and nobody vont take 'em," he continued. "don't stand a-thinkin' yerselves inter consumptions, but treat yer sveethearts to the vunder o' the fair--come and vitness the most larn'd and eloquentest pig as wos iver born or created--a pig wot's a human bein' in everything but his tail and wices!" he paused, looked wistfully round, whilst his spouse performed a furious interlude upon the watchman's rattle: he then resumed. "here, here, here, ladies, is the pritty cretur wot'll tell you the 'zact name o' the young man as is dyin' for yer--vether he's dark or light--fat or thin, and vare his country-'ouse is. the livin' skel'ton too, wot eats no other wittles but light and vind! vun penny; no more, remember! jist agoin' to begin--vun penny!" he paused again, but his oratory induced only two persons to ascend the steps. "the african princess too," he continued, tapping the illustrious portrait with a cane, "vith silver hair eight foot long, every hair on her head vorth a goulden guinea! yoye--yoye--yoye, there, walk for'ard and don't be afear'd--little children is as velcome as big men--nobody's shut out but dogs and blind people. yoye--yoye, the dwarf--the dwarf--the dwarf, here--so short, he can't vash his own face vithout he stands on a high stool. now my little boys, put yer four fard'ns together and see vot you'll niver see agin if yer lives as long as the most oldest donkey--come and see the vunderful pig toby as'll tell yer how old yer are--vare the key of yer master's till's kept, and vether you're to pick up the five-pun-note a valking home to-night, or next veek!" but to little end is this budget of professional eloquence and strained humour reiterated in the ears of his gaping listeners; very few are so overcome by it as to "walk forward;" such as are, being kept in bondage till their open mutiny and rebellious language compel the proprietor to close the door; the exhibition then commences, and then concludes; and then again comes the sisyphian labour of refilling the van. apprehensive lest our distress of feeling should be observed in our countenance, we turned our back upon the wretched spectacle, and gazed into the gloomy field before us, till our heart verily ached again. we had known a time when "richardson's" in giant letters met our view--when wreaths and stars of variegated lamps, brilliant as the rainbow, depended and glittered from red festoons--when, side by side, the insidious conspirator, the valiant disinherited, and beauteous betrothed, paced the platform in mysterious communion--when funny clowns sang funny songs to a sea of delighted faces--when ladies in scotch costume danced highland flings--when countless people who had paid, stood conjecturing and anxiously waiting outside for the conclusion of the tragedy and pantomime then being executed inside, and feeling sensations of awe creep over them as the spangled knights, the frowning desperadoes, and indian chiefs with bracelets on their arms and rings through their ears and noses, stalked past them in their dignified parade. oh! torturing memory! once more in thy dimless mirror do we behold "pavilion theatre"--see the equestrian "clarke's"--hear too their cry of "the riders, the riders"--see again the savage combat between the two fierce bandits, who perform north-east south-west, robbers' cut, and guard, with frantic bravery--again we see master clarke and miss clarke waltzing round and round in the innocence of childhood--again the din of bartholomew rings in our ears--again is smithfield thronged with its roystering thousands--again are we surrounded by booths, shows, dwarfs, giants, pigs link-eaters, fat boys, swings, round-abouts, conjurers, and steam glass-works. we should, past doubt, have swooned away at the vision we had raised, had we not turned opportunely to the little show behind us, which made us conscious of the chilling truth of the reality. despairing and broken-spirited, the proprietor had forsaken his post, and whilst his consort screamed forth invitations to the inanimate crowd to walk forward, he leaned his back dejectedly against the wheel of his yellow habitation. as he stood, he was accosted by a man in knee corduroys, half-boots, and white stockings, who, removing the short pipe from his mouth and looking hard in the showman's face, exclaimed-"vot bill!--vy i ardly know'd yer! vot a precious long phiz you have got! vot has give you the blues?" "blues!" echoed the showman, for an instant raising his eyes; "ain't it enough to make a heart of stone bleed to see this here fair? ain't it enough to--" but here his eyes again fell upon the ground, and superintended a little hole which he was digging with his iron heel. "vell, but man," rejoined the corduroys, encouragingly, as he glanced about him, "there arn't a wery great squeege to-night, to be sure, but yer vosn't so thin yisterday, and the day afore, vos yer?" "wasn't we though," sighed the proprietor, with a significant nod, "in that ere precious pourer yisterday--we wasn't thin, eh?--oh, not at all!"-"vell, don't founder, old boy. come, go up, go up, and then the people'll follow you!" "not they," returned the dejected man; "they hasn't the sperit, jim. they sneeks avay to the gin-shops and destroys their morals--gets drunk, and goes home and whacks their innercent wives--here's a precious state o' things for a civilised country!" "vell, niver mind. see, your good woman's a-calling of yer; go up to her, for down here yer looks as miserable as a fish out o' water. ve all regrets it, but if yer perfession is ruined, vy, try your hand in some other line, that's all." "niver! niver, jim!" cried the indomitable showman; "i wos _born_ in a wan--i wos _edicated_ in a wan--i've _lived_ in a wan, and--i'll _die_ in a wan!" saying which, he rushed frantically up the steps, vented the first burst of his feelings in a terrific flourish upon the trumpet, and ultimately calmed down at the barrel organ. very soon after, st paul's sonorous voice spoke his dismal fiat, and as he tolled out the eleventh hour, seemed to ring the knell of our dear departed bartholomew fair. alpha. omnibus chat. we were led by accident, the other day, into certain odd speculations upon the association of ideas. who was it that astonished his hearers by declaring that beefsteak-pudding always put him in mind of westminster abbey? it was the same man who responded to the "why?" by saying, "o! i don't know why, but it _does_!" "association of ideas" is arrangeable under two heads: the discoverable, and the undiscoverable. of the last, first. how often do we every day jump from one point to another, as distinct in themselves as the sublime and the ridiculous, and far more widely asunder? we are talking of a, and z starts up in the mind. white is the subject of the speculation, and in walks black. it may be said, that as likes beget likes, so opposites beget opposites; and it may be very true that if you cannot directly call z to mind when you want him, it is advisable to recollect a, as likelier to remind you of him than y, or any other alphabetician. granted; but, on the same principle, when you want to think of water, you should order in some brandy. the connexion may be close, although the elements are opposite. in like manner, we are told, when trying to recal some reprobate's _alias_, to think of a church of the same name; as we might think of a duellist, to suggest the image of a practical christian. so, if we would be reminded of the truth and simplicity of shakspeare, we ought to remember how his plays are sometimes acted; we shall see the high point from the low. again, the image of a poor-box might be useful to help us to the idea of fulness; as that of a medicine-chest might be, to suggest the sense of turtle and venison. but we need not multiply opposites; grant that suggestions arise thus, when ideas stand opposed in straight lines--when the electric wire runs direct between them, wonderfully connecting the remote--yet how are we to account for the association of ideas in cross-roads, where there cannot possibly be the slightest connexion--where the fancy starts off at all sorts of angles, or wriggles through all kinds of crooked lines, without an apparent chance of stumbling upon the image that nevertheless comes uppermost? cases constantly occur where there is not a particle of affinity. the child-idea is born without a parent-idea; there is not the shadow of a traceable relationship. we are discussing the merits of cerito, and one of euclid's problems bursts upon us; we are quietly repeating to ourselves some verses of the odyssey, and suddenly the mind wanders to the subject of muffins. what connexion is there between shirt-frills and glass bottles? yet how rapidly may one follow the other, like debtor and creditor, and become as intimately related as needle and thread! on the other hand the discoverable links of association are often as clear and connected as pearls strung on silver; and sometimes, it must be owned, they are altogether as tangled and confused, though still traceable by a nice curiosity. it needs no ghost to tell us why twenty-one shillings suggest the idea of a guinea--though the one coin be of the more precious metal; nor is it necessary to show why a manton at this season awakens associations of pheasants and partridges--the consanguinity is obvious. but how comes it that my simple little cat (dummy by name) called up, the other evening, by a very ordinary movement, the image of cleopatra? how? why, the mere sweep of her sable tail reminded me of the black leopard in the surrey zoological gardens: where the gigantic model of rome suggested a thought of the cæsars; antony, of course, started up, and in the "hundred-thousandth part of the _millionth_ division of a second," i was in egypt old, gazing upon the undying glory of cleopatra! what so simple! such chains lengthen themselves incessantly in the mind--the links are drawn each to each, of their "own sweet will," and bind us unawares. lightning is slow compared with the flight of thought. how quickly does an oyster beget the idea of our first parents! thus: an oyster--milton oysters--milton--adam and eve! let any reader who may happen to be thinking of wrought-iron, trace back his speculation, and laugh to find that it had its origin perhaps in camomiles; as camomiles had in turn been suggested by the "pilgrim's progress!" * * * * * ---but all this is less an address to the patient reader than an apology to an injured correspondent. we wish to show, beyond mistake, how we misnamed a valued illuminator of our vehicle, who last month related an incident of travel. his name is _copus_; we could not call it to mind, and so we styled him _quickly_. observe. quickly in this case was the son of mrs. quickly; mrs. quickly was, in our imagination, the mother of sack; sack is, to our knowledge, the brother of copus. the connexion is mysterious--yet mysteriously simple. copus! how could we forget thee?--thou wert companion of our youth. we knew thee well--thou art a spicy fellow, and a cheerful! what youthful reveller in academic relaxations recollects thee not, with thy wine and toast, thy lemon, cloves, and seductive et ceteras! here's a chant that particularises thy pleasantries:- "bring ale, bring wine, bring lemon too, with the nutmeg fine- we'll brew, we'll brew! the toast throw in, and the clove divine, 'twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do! here's a draught to the queen, and the days we have seen, and a health to you, sir, you!" and now shall copus, john copus, (late quickly) speak for himself, on a subject which, by a natural sequence, treads on the heels of the foregoing. i sometimes speculate as to what little boys at school now-a-days talk about, as to what form the chief subjects of their amusement. it is sadly to be feared, that the innocent and ingenuous ignorance of my school-days has been exchanged for a culpable smattering of sophisticated knowledge, foolishly so called. oh! who could wish when he calls to mind the days of his boyhood--at least, who that has a particle of romance, the smallest dash of sentiment, in his heart, could wish, that the boys of the present day should be sceptical as to the soothing belief then so prevalent, that the luscious preparation of sugar and peppermint which they eat, is really and truly a portion of "gibraltar rock;" or that the "brandy balls," with which they beguile their happy hours, and _clart_ their fingers' ends, are indeed remnants of the lot of those very "nelson's bullets" which spread destruction on "egypt, hafnia, trafalgar." some of my readers may perhaps know--i confess my ignorance on this point--what boys now are. whether a doudnean tunic and variegated cap of divers kinds of cloth warm the possessor of as much solid understanding, as the honest pepper-and-salt clothes and undoubted beaver hat did in times gone by. i will, however, endeavour to illustrate what boys were in the last generation. and first, you shall agree that they excelled as a body in the inventive faculty. i scarcely need instance walter scott--the following story will establish my point without further aid. let us suppose the scene--a moderate-sized room--with eighteen beds or so in it, and the same number of boys in them, varying in age from eight to twelve, with every variety of nightcap, from the cosey linen one fitting "snod" to the head, and tied well under the chin, to the dignified and manly double cotton with long tuft; these enclosing all the varieties of hair, known as turnips, carrots, candles, &c. "now grant," shouts the biggest of the lot, "it's your turn to tell a story to-night--don't be afraid, (he was a new lad,) any thing will do, so fire away, and i'll thrash the first that interrupts him." the youth thus addressed, having evidently prepared his story, begins slowly and argumentatively thus:--"well, once upon a time there was a mill" (it was considered a solecism to omit a mill or a castle,) "in a great plain--and a family lived there--well--and so there were three men, and they went out one night and walked across the plain--and it grew quite dark;" (here, one of the youngest lads, frightened at the fearful ideas conjured up by the last words, gives a faint sigh;) "and so after a bit they began to feel hungry--and one said look! there's a light! and they all swore a solemn oath that they would go to where it was, and get something to eat, or else kill one another." (here evident proofs are given that the greater portion of the audience are deeply interested in the progress of the tale, for various small sighs are heard, indicative either of sympathy with sufferers under the pangs of hunger, or of apprehension lest the three "jurors," taking the kilkenny cats as precedents, should eventually become all of them homicides.) "well--and so they went to the mill--and one of them knocked--and then the miller got up, and sharpening a large knife went to the door and asked who was there?--and the boldest of the three told him, that they were three travellers, and wanted food and a lodging. so the miller let them in, and they had a jolly good tuck-out of tea and buttered toast, and then went to bed.----and so my story's ended." "grant--come here!" mildly observes the biggest of the crew. the youth thus addressed rises cheerfully--advances boldly--and falls precipitately--levelled by a well-aimed bolster. "now grant!" continues the non-appreciator of a tale worthy for its simplicity of conception of a wordsworth--for its pensive dénouement of a dickens;--"now grant, just pick that up--and won't i lick you to-morrow morning, you precious fool--that's all." i cannot lay the flattering unction to my soul, of believing that the modern dormitory could produce so striking a proof of talent. no sir; from fountains such as these have risen the immortal strains of a ---and a ---(you can fill in the names). in vain will the survivors of the next generation look for any similar display of talent. but if this fail to convince you of the decided superiority of the boys of auld lang syne in one branch of knowledge, give me your attention whilst i recount an overpowering proof, that in appreciation of real wit and talent for the ludicrous, they were indeed unrivalled. a new lad had come, who from having liberally bestowed various "tucks" on almost every one of his friends in the bed-room was popular on the whole, and received very cordially by us all. at all our stories connected with the various "masters," "monitors," "servants," boys that had left, and boys that remained, (and some of them were by no means amiss,) he seemed rather to sneer, so that he was voted a dull fellow--a spoon--a sap. when, however, emboldened by acquaintance with us, he began to talk of the school he had left, his delight, and even laughter, knew no bounds. "oh! master was such a jolly fellow"--he said one day to a select circle of friends--"and such a funny fellow too he was you don't know--he! he! he! he used to make us laugh so--he! he! i'll tell you such a funny story of him. there was a lad called brown, and master called him jacky, because his name was john--he! he! he! well, one day at dinner, jacky had only had once of meat, but he'd two helps of pood;" "of what?" we all exclaimed. "oh! we called _rolly_, _pood_, to distinguish it from _stick-jaw_," was the explanation given. "so when master said, 'well, jacky, will you have any more pudding?' he! he! he! jacky said, he! he! 'please sir,' he! he! ha! and master said--he! he! '_jacky's fond of pudding!_' he! he! he! wasn't that funny?" * * * * * having laughed immoderately at the profound and irresistible drollery of jack brown's dominie, protesting, that two such schoolmasters would be the death of us, we were all--that is, the whole omnibus-fraternity in vehicle assembled,--suddenly checked in our hilarity, and sat with solemn visages to listen to the laceman's lament. "one struggle more and i am free from pangs that _rend_ my heart in twain."--byron. oh! thou, who wert my all of hope- of love--of joy, in early years; ere aught i knew about the shop, or view'd life through a _veil_ of tears. some poet sings, that, "never yet, the course of true love smooth did run;" so mine, i'll take an even bet, must be the truest 'neath the sun! 'tis long, long since i ceased to weep o'er all thy broken vows of yore; but, if you want some ribbon cheap, i hope you'll not go past my door! 'twas thee my youthful fancy drew the fairest pattern of your kind;- lace patterns, now, alone i view, and _fancy_ muslins rule my mind. dearest and fairest! oh, forgive the thought that prompts this simple lay; 'tis just to tell you where i live- i see you passing, every day. i may, perchance, have measured short the lines that are not in my line; for yards, not feet, are now my _forte_, and rhymes are ill to match and join. in visions of a future day, i see thy long-lost form appear; and, o'er the counter, whispering, say- "pray can you make it cheaper, _dear_?" then i'll not call thee all unkind, nor every hope untimely drop; unless, in after days, i find you take your custom past my shop. j. p. * * * * * this pleasantry not unnaturally called to mind the departed author of a thousand similar essays; of a thousand songs, epigrams, odes, farces, and operas; of a thousand proofs of natural talent and untiring activity of mind. the allusion here made is to thomas dibdin, the son of the great sea-songster, the brother of the already by-gone charles, and consequently, the last of the three! the remains of "poor tom" were interred on the 21st of september, in the burial-ground of st. james's chapel, pentonville, close by the grave of his old friend, _grimaldi_. may he sleep in peace nevertheless! the feeling of a friend seems to be expressed in the subjoined tribute:-to the memory of the late thomas dibdin. alas! poor tom! thy days are past, yet shall thy wit and humour last; for few, of all the bay-crown'd train, could boast a more productive brain. but what avails, if fleeting praise alone the poet's labour pays? if, when the mind is worn away, pale misery waits on dim decay? if talents rare no more can claim than idle transitory fame? 'twas thine, poor tom! in life's decline, in sad reverse and want to pine; till pity came, with angel-pow'r, to soothe thee at thy latest hour.[10] (pity! on earth a heavenly guest, and sweetest in a queenly breast.) but rest thee well! nor let us grieve thou hadst no hoarded bags to leave; one legacy of thine shall yet be valued more--thy cabinet. j. a. williams. it is the fate of one author to be overlooked by the great, and of another to be overlooked by the little. but we very much question, whether any author, be he poet or pamphleteer, occupying what is technically called a two-pair front, was ever subjected, whether sitting down to dinner or getting into bed, to the inconvenience of being overlooked by the great, after the fashion portrayed in the margin hereof. now this we really take to be the height of impudence! impudence has many degrees. when a stranger in a coffee-room politely requests to be allowed just to glance for one instant only at the newspaper you are reading, merely to look at an advertisement, and then, ordering candles into the next box, coolly sits down to read through the parliamentary debate--when a friend borrows your horse, to lend to a friend of his whom he would not trust with his own--a certain degree of impudence has unquestionably been attained. there is impudence in looking through a keyhole, in peeping over the parlour-blinds, in spying into the first-floor from the window "over the way;" but surely the highest stage of impudence is reserved for the man who stops as he strolls along at night, to look into your bed-room window, on the second floor--tapping at it probably with a request to be permitted to light his cigar at your candle, as the gas-light has gone out. [illustration] footnote: [footnote 10: a few months before mr. dibdin's decease, and at the intercession of some friends, he received 100 _l._ out of the queen's bounty fund. but he has left a widow and young family, for whom no provision whatever has been made.] an apparent case of determined suicide. [illustration] as we sauntered along the sea-beach the other day, in the neighbourhood of margate, we observed a female standing out at a considerable distance from the cliffs, and at a point where she was likely to be cut off from the shore. as the tide at the time was "making in fast," prompted by a humane feeling (and not by an impertinent curiosity, in the hopes of seeing a pretty face), we immediately hastened towards her; upon a nearer approach the form was familiar to us--surely we had seen that figure before--it must be--it is--mrs. toddles! what can she be about? she stands motionless upon an elevated patch of sand--the white foam comes boiling and gurgling and hissing around her. she heeds it not--she stirs not; it begins to rain a little--she deliberately puts up her umbrella! what can she mean? horrible thought! does she meditate self-destruction? has she resolved to stand there until the mighty waters encompass her about--engulfing herself--her little black stockings--her bonnet--her shawl and all! in the deep, vast, salt, briny, hungry ocean. but what are we about? let us hasten to prevent such an awful catastrophe! springing forward therefore quickly, we exclaimed, "for heaven's sake, madam, what are you about? are you determined to destroy yourself, or are you aware of your danger?" "danger, sir?" cried mrs. t. with a scream, "what danger, sir? i am only watching the waves." "danger, madam! why in five minutes the waves will cut you off from all chance of escape," we exclaimed, and expressed a hope that she could swim. "swim!" screamed mrs. t.--"swim! oh dear, oh dear!"--and away skuttled mrs. t. along the sands, her little bit black legs going at a most surprising rate. however, leaving mrs. t.'s legs to themselves, we took to our heels, and encouraged her to increased exertion, when suddenly we heard the little lady exclaim, "oh, my basket,"--and upon looking round, we saw those little bit black legs hurrying back to the place from whence she started. we hallooed, we bawled--time and space were both narrowing with fearful rapidity--"now! madam--haste, haste!--quick--your hand!--there, now!--ah!"--ahah! too late! too late!--bang comes the wave--such a squash--poor mrs. t. went off dripping wet; but we dare say she would find a little drop of comfort, in the shape of _smuggled_ hollands at her lodgings. [illustration] [illustration] we wonder _how_ mrs. t. got to margate, and suppose it was in search of her friend, colonel walker--who, we presume, _must_ be out of town--or we should have heard from him. the biter bit. "stop! stop!" cried a gentleman to an omnibus cad[11], but the cad would neither hear nor stop. "stupid fellow!" said the gentleman,--"he'll find it out, to his cost, bye-and-bye; for i have given him a counterfeit five-shilling piece!" but, on looking at the change, he exclaimed--"well, i _never_! hang me if the rascal hasn't given me four shillings and sixpence bad money! but, never mind; i've had my ride for nothing!" footnote: [footnote 11: not attached to our establishment.] [illustration: a skaiting party a sliding siute a skaiting academy designed, etched & published by george cruikshank no.^r 1 1841] the artificial floor for skating. if our grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, and great-grandmothers, and great-great-grandmothers, (who, depend upon it, were all very little people,) could only look down and see what is going on among us here below, how they would, as an irish friend remarks, turn up their eyes! those who were wont, while vegetaters in this world, to creep to bed with the lamb, for want of a light to sit up by, (before man "found out long-sixes,") must, upon peeping down now, be dazzled by the blaze of gas; yet what is gas compared to the bude-light, already superseding it? those who made their wills when they undertook a three-weeks journey from york to london, must be abundantly startled by our railroads; yet what is railway-travelling now to the velocity with which we are hereafter to move--when, seated on a cannon-ball, we shall be shot into a distant city in less time than it would take us to stop at home. but of all the wonders that must make them open their unsubstantial eyes, and rub their aerial spectacles, a skating assembly in a london drawing-room must assuredly take the lead. balloons pilotable and walks under the thames, iron ships and canals over carriage-ways,--these are mere common-places. earth, air, fire, and water, are old-fashioned things. _artificial ice_ is the new element that shall astonish the other four. in america they are boasting the construction of a railroad to convey ice to charlestown, for the supply of the west indies! very well; but that is _real_ ice. england has done something more; she has established her independence of winter. she can do without frost altogether, and yet go on skating all the year round. she has discovered more than parry did at the pole; she has found out--artificial ice! to mr. bradwell, whose ingenuity as a machinist has so long been signalized in covent garden theatre, the public will be indebted for the realization of this wonder. it is proposed that in what were once the nursery-grounds in the new road the infant art shall be nursed and reared, and the new road to enjoyment be thrown open. magnificent rooms, on a scale of extraordinary magnitude, will be laid with sheets of patent ice, upon which the common skate can be used with the same facility as upon the frozen serpentine. there will be rooms for learners and private parties. the artificial ice has been put to the test of extreme heat, and is unaffected by it. it may be used in private houses, and be carpeted when skating is over. such is the accredited statement; and our inference naturally is, that skating will soon become popular all over the world. the speculators who long ago sent out skates to india will now make their fortunes. with ourselves it will soon be _the_ national pastime. people will get up in the dog-days, early, and go out for a morning's skating. they will enjoy the sport with advantages hitherto undreamed of; there will be no keen winter-wind to cut them in two--no "mobocracy" to mix with--no rheumatisms to catch--no duckings to dread. the word "dangerous" will be as a term in the unknown tongue. they will not anticipate a drawback in the use of the drags, and though they mix in every society, the "humane" will be untroubled; there will be neither falling in nor falling out. mr. and mrs. slippers request the honour of mr., mrs., and miss slider's company to an evening party, on the 1st of july, 184--. _skates at 10._ skating-floors will, of course, be laid down in the houses of all the affluent, and invites will be issued from portland-place and park-lane, after the fashion of the accompanying card. it will be the privilege of a gentleman to solicit the hand of a lady for the next figure-of-eight, to beseech her to take part with him in the date of the year, or to join him in a true-lover's knot. servants will skate in and out with real ice. the text of milton will be altered in the next edition, and his couplet will be read- "come and trip it, long and late, on the light fantastic skate." but the skating-floor will be in equal request for family use as for company. on a wet morning, when it is impossible to go out, the gentleman will say--"here's a soaker! no ride, no walk; james, bring me my skates." or perhaps the lady will cry--"what a horrid dry day! nothing but dust! why don't they put an awning all over hyde park! eustace, my skates!" what an immense saving will there be in families in the article of firing, when people are thus irresistibly moved to "stir their stumps," instead of the fire. but will the advantages end here? certainly not. there can be no question but that the experiment will be tried in the new houses of parliament, where, should a skating-floor be laid down, notices of motion will be far less abundant than motions without notice. changing sides will be a matter of constant practice; to cut figures, not to cultivate them, will be the order of the day; the noble lord will "feel great reluctance in reducing himself to the level of the honourable gentleman," and the honourable gentleman "will very unwillingly adopt the position of the noble lord." supporting _pe_titions will be of less consequence than supporting _par_titions; and the strong party measure that will be necessary, will be a strong party wall. westminster-hall will of course be furnished with a floor for the use of the lawyers, and the juries in waiting; the counsel will show where an action may lie, the plaintiff will naturally go against the defendant, and the defendant will as naturally move for a new trial. the town-halls throughout the kingdom will be similarly supplied. but may not patent-ice pavements be laid down in our popular thoroughfares? we have asphalte promenades and wooden highways; but what are such inventions as these to the convenience of ice-pavements, and the luxury of skating down cheapside to be early on 'change! what a ninth of november will that be which shows us the two sheriffs skating away to guildhall after the new lord mayor, followed by the court of aldermen and the companies. a procession on skates! the cabinet ministers, the judges,--the sword-bearer, and the men in armour--all skating like dutchmen! [if herein we exaggerate, we have not exaggerated the ingenuity of mr. bradwell, to whom we wish a signal success.] duns demonstrated. by edward howard, author of "rattlin the reefer." the dark ages of barbarism are generally supposed to have been more prolific of monsters; but modern times,--the times of civilization and refinement--have far excelled them in this respect. what are your giants, your anthropophagi, and "men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders," as monsters, compared with that maximum of monstrosity, _a dun_? he is an iniquity, who may claim impudence and usury for his father and mother. he is a devouring sin, a rampant atrocity, a thing unendurable. and then the double duplicity of the monster! he makes his first approaches towards his victim smiling--he actually smiles!--he offers to lend you money, the angel! or bestow upon you his goods; and then he is nothing but the beneficent assister of the poor: for every man who condescends to be in debt must be poor--if in want, pitiably poor in fact; if not in want, poor in spirit beyond the approach of contempt. but when his meshes have once entangled his prey, this seraph stands forth in the sublimity of the horrible--the dun! come, as we are in a free nation, let us talk about the chains of slavery, tyranny's oppression, the _morgue_ of aristocracy, and the _fierté_ of those in authority; shall we not rise in arms against them "'sblood! shall we not be rebels?" stop. let us first conquer a tyrant far stronger than any of these--a despot more despotic than any autocrat who ever existed. this persecutor violates all the sanctities of private life; he is with us at our meals, he penetrates the closet, even the bedchamber affords us no asylum. there is no sanctuary from the dun. death? that may be, yet we know not. we should hesitate the accepting a grave _gratis_, even were it a mausoleum, near the "remains" of a dun. nobody can answer for the force of habit. the ancients had very correct notions on this subject. there was a dun at the very entrance to their "shades below;" how could any place of torment be complete without one? there was charon, with his skinny hand outstretched for a penny. it was not much, certainly; but it is a great deal more than dutiful sons, affectionate nephews, and disconsolate heirs, can now afford to bestow upon the illustrious departed. it is a good thing for the modern dead that all this about styx and the ferry-boat is held to be fiction. detestable as is the dun, there is something heroic about him. it has been matter of dispute among learned commentators whether the assertion respecting this right valourous thomas thumb should be construed literally or paraphrastically, "he made the giants first, and then he killed them." there can be no doubt about the deeds of the dun. he actually does "make his giants first, and then he kills them." without him there would be no debtors to destroy. if debt be a crime, the creditor is more than _particeps criminis_. he is the originator of, and tempter to, the deed. justice should really punish the dun for drawing his victim into debt. we deny not that lending money is glorious among the virtues: nobody can appreciate that more than ourselves. but to punish a poor devil for affording a fellow-creature an opportunity for exercising the most exalted virtue, ranks next in heinousness to the crime of that man who may degrade himself into a _dun_. but what is a dun? the ignorant affluent may exclaim. it is this that the abomination is: the quintessence of vexation; a single plague, a plaguey deal worse than the whole ten that plagued egypt. he is a substantial ghost, perpetually haunting a man, and sucking away his substance more eagerly than ever james the first imagined that a hobgoblin sucked a witch. he is far more ravenous than "the horseleech, who always cries 'give, give!'" in his voice he imitates the cuckoo, having but one note, provided that he gets hold of yours--"pay, pay! money, money!" he is a troublesome fiend, not to be laid with protestant prayers, or papistical holy water, and yet can be exorcised merely by a check. the dun hath an extraordinary sympathy with a knocker. for him, a knocker cannot be placed too high or too low, nor will his ready hand find it too heavy or too light. it is the instrument on which he most loveth to play. he can therewith simulate every man's tune; at the unobtrusive "one modest tap" of the poor cousin, the quaker-like simplicity of the postman's _appel_, the hearty rally of the intimate friend, and the prolonged thunder of the crimson-thighed lacquey, he is equally expert. the hypocrite can achieve every knock that has been or can be knocked in this knocking world. and yet, he can hardly deceive the poor tremulous debtor. hence, since the times have become bad, and john doe and richard roe have stalked through our streets triumphant, gentlemen have left off wearing certain appendages to the backs of their heads, as being too typical and too much reminiscent of "iteration" of the pertinacious foe. [illustration] what gentleman would like to have bobbing at his back an excrescence, which, if he walked slowly, would remind him of his tailor's--if fast, of his bootmaker's summons? it would be planting an imp of importunity on his shoulders, which, like sinbad's old man, he might shake, but could not shake off. many are the doubts of the dun's pedigree. some hold that he descends from one of nimrod's illegitimates, for he is a mighty hunter by profession, as well as a tyrant by nature. a blood-hound he is, of a notable quick scent to discover his game, with a deep mouth to pursue it. his presumption is boundless; for he pretends to ape creation by attempting to squeeze something out of nothing, and raise cash from a vacuum. etymologists have laid it down that he is called a dun, by antiphrasis, because he never will have done until he has undone you; and yet nothing is more natural and pleasant than the doing of a dun, nothing worse than his doings. whether he repair to church or the meeting-house, he cannot be accounted a true christian, as he never either gives or forgives, but merely lends in order to show that he has no forgiveness. he is the most persevering of all bores and the most penetrable; nothing can divert him from his persecutions; and 'tis very lucky for him that doors cannot maintain actions of assault and battery. the new penny postage is a fortunate measure for the afflicted victim of the dun. if he live so far off that he cannot be dunned three times a day, he will be punished to the amount only of what the good samaritan gave to the wounded wayfarer; but this punishment will be daily, punctual as the day itself. he is, this dun, the acutest mental torturer that exists, and the greatest tempter to all manner of wickedness. near, he almost annihilates you; remote, he torments you, racking your very soul. he is to the poor creditor what the guilty conscience is to the murderer; he can neither eat, drink, sleep, or walk in quiet for him. indeed, the tenter-hooks upon which he puts a man, are enough to warp the best nature in the world. with truth he will not be satisfied, and you are forced to rid yourself of him by a lie. at length his importunity provokes you to swear at him, and then he hardens you into a determination never to pay him at all. he thus enacts the gentleman-usher to the black gentleman, leading you on from lying to swearing, from swearing to dishonesty, till at last you pave your way to a "certain place,"--more certainly than ever you will pave it with your good intentions. it would not be difficult to prove that your thorough-paced dun was the father of the seven deadly sins. let us single out a specimen from a flock of dun-coloured duns: for the true dun affecteth not brilliancy of colours. he has marked his quarry. he pursues it cautiously, stealthily. he must be upon it, before he takes the alarm. whilst he approaches, he puckers up his face into all the foldings of hypocrisy. he has gilded his countenance with a villanous smile. he is on tiptoe. he touches his unsuspecting victim on the shoulder--that victim was in the act of a triumphant pass with an admiring companion. he turns round!--where is the smile of exultation? he looks more affrighted than the flying hare, more ghastly than a tombstone by moonlight. and yet he suffers his clammy hand to be grasped in the horny palm of the dun--to be shaken: the contact is loathsome--he must bear it, for he owes the man money. "my little account----" then comes the shuffling, the lying, the fawning--if the wretch be, as is generally the case, mean-spirited. one dun would go far to tame even hercules--but two, with the assistance of a rascally sheriff's-officer, would subdue a whole army of heroes and demi-gods. it is a good thing for the wild beasts that they know not the use of money. how easy would have been van amburgh's task, could he but have lent his most violent lions some loose cash, and have discounted the note of paw of his most intractable tigers, they being amenable to mesne process! but that happy consummation for the duns is still far distant. it will be long before they induce carrion-crows to give an i o u, instead of a c a w; or that they will persuade eagles to indorse bills, excepting in the backs of their prey; so the dunning fraternity must be content with torturing their fellow-sharers in humanity, until men grow so wise as to discover that debt is nothing more than a moral obligation, and that it is both wickedness and folly to punish it as a crime. the second sleeper awakened[12]. translated by ali. "'tis a long 'lane' that has no _turning_." old prov. [illustration] know, o prince of the faithful! that my name is jöhn thómkeens, and my father was sháh bandar of the merchants of löhndöhn, and be resided in the street which is called oksphut; and he had great riches, and possessed many stuffs, and jewels, and minerals, and female slaves, and black male slaves, and memlooks; and a great desire came upon me to travel, and divert myself with viewing the cities of the world; then said i to my father, "by allah! o my father, i conjure thee that thou permittest me to travel from thee awhile, that i may divert myself with viewing the cities of the world!" but my father was not willing to hinder me from doing this, although it grieved him to part with me, so when i conjured him to let me go, he hung his head awhile towards the earth, for his bosom was contracted, and after a little space he raised his head, and said to me, "o, my son! great grief has afflicted me, by reason of this thy request; but as thou art eager to travel, may no harm befall thee; be careful of thy substance, and associate not with those with whom there is no avail to associate;" and he ceased not to advise me of that which it was right for me to do, until the hour of prayer; and after that he ordered his memlooks, and they prepared for me a mule, and put on its saddle and equipments. so my father advanced to embrace me, for the purpose of bidding me farewell, and he embraced me and wept until he fainted, and when he recovered he recited these verses:- "the man from the bad coin parteth without sorrow[13]; but the bosom of the father is contracted with the loss of his child. the lamb was eager to leave the fold, despising the words of his mother; but when the wolf appeared, he longed for the safety of the fold." then i bade him farewell, and recited these verses:- "youthful strength despises not labour; and strange things meet the eye of him that travels[14]." i then pursued my journey, not knowing whither i was going, and i proceeded until i arrived upon the banks of a great river; and as i looked, lo! a vast bridge was before me, and i considered my case, and ascended upon the bridge, and a man met me, and said unto me, "by allah! o, my son, thou canst not pass here, until thou hast paid unto me a penny!" so i gave him a penny, and proceeded; and the name of that river was thámez, and the name of that bridge vockshál. and i proceeded a little space, and i looked, and lo! a great palace appeared before me, the doors of which were of the iron of china, and the door-posts of brass, and the walls thereof were inlaid with jewels and all kinds of precious stones, such as i had never before beheld. the gates of the palace were open, so i descended from my mule and entered, and lo! i found therein a spacious hall the like of which my eyes had never before beheld; and within this great hall were many ghools, and lo! they were busied about some great work; and i approached and beheld, and lo! they were stamping with the signet of sulezmán, the son of dáood (on both of whom be peace); and they were stamping the signets with astounding quickness; and when i beheld them, i said within myself, "god is great! what he willeth, that cometh to pass; and what he willeth not, doth not happen." after that i proceeded; and as i was walking from the palace, my foot struck upon some hard substance, and i looked down, and lo! it was a bottle of brass, filled with something, and having its mouth closed with a stopper of lead, bearing the impression of the seal of sulezmán, the son of dáood (on both of whom be peace); then said i to myself, "by allah, the great, the wonderful! i must open this and see what is in it." so i took out a knife, and picked at the lead until i had extracted it from the bottle of brass; and when i had so done, lo! a great quantity of smoke came forth, and i heard a sound as if of a strong rushing wind; and while i was looking, behold the smoke collected together, and shook, and it became an efreet, horrible in form. his head was like a dome, and from it there rose a huge horn, like a great column; his hair was as kohl; his eyes flashed forth fire, and from his mouth issued flames; and when i beheld him the muscles of my sides quivered, my teeth were locked together, my spittle dried up, and i saw not my way. then the efreet, when he saw me, cried out and said to me, "fear not, o thou of the sons of adam! for as thou hast released me from confinement, there shall no harm befall thee; and lo! i will now convey thee where thou mayest have all thy wants, and fulfil all thy desires; but keep thou in thine hand the impression of the signet of sulezmán, the son of dáood (on both of whom be peace), for thou wilt have need of it in thy way." then said i unto him, "whither is it that thou wilt lead me, o! márid?" and he said, "i will lead thee to a place such as thou hast never before beheld, and show unto thee sights such as thou hast never before looked on. but fear not; for i swear to thee, by allah, the good, the powerful! that no harm shall befall thee." then the efreet took me up in his arms--i suffering him all this time, by reason of the extremity of my fear, which deprived me of all power over my limbs--and seated me on his shoulders, and flew away with me through the air. and he ceased not to fly until we came to a huge mountain, whose top reached unto the seventh heaven; and in the side of this mountain there was a great cavern, and i said unto the efreet, "o, efreet! enter not with me into this cavern; for verily i am in great fear, and my heart is contracted within my bosom." but the márid answered, "sit thou firm, o, man! and keep thou the impression of the signet in thine hand; and fear not." so i held firm the impression of the signet that was in my hand, and clung to the efreet, and we entered together into the cavern. and i heard from within the cavern a great noise as if of the panting of many horses, and of ten thousand chariot-wheels, and a smell such as i had never before smelt the like of; my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and the muscles of my sides quivered, by reason of my fear, and i could not move by reason of my dread; and presently a great scream arose, shrill and dreadful, and lo! many ghools and márids surrounded us, making hideous faces, and grinning horribly. and i clung to the efreet who was carrying me, and he said to me, "fear not; for we shall soon have passed through this cavern, and the ghools and the márids cannot approach thee; but thou must first behold and be presented to the chief of the ján, who will inform you of all you have to do for the attainment of your wishes." then said i, "i hear and obey;" and after that we proceeded. and again i heard that great scream, and the ghools, and the márids, and the jënnezeh, came around us; and the noise of the panting and the snorting of horses increased, and the sounds of the chariots became louder, and the whole air was filled with them; and i quaked with fear, and put my fingers into my ears, for i could not bear this great noise. and i looked, and lo! a great ján stood before us, whose head reached the utmost roof of the cavern, and whose arms were like winnowing forks, and his legs like masts; and when we stopped before him, the efreet said to me, "do obeisance, o thou of the sons of adam!" and i kissed the ground before him, and humbled myself, and kissed his feet; after which i waited, and presently he opened his mouth, and cried unto me, saying,----"station!" and i found that, whilst sitting in the railway carriage, reading lane's "arabian nights," i had converted myself into- one of the "_sleepers_" on the railway. footnotes: [footnote 12: for the first, vide lane's _arabian nights_,--"abul hassan, or the sleeper awakened."] [footnote 13: little sorrow at parting, as the man said to the bad shilling.] [footnote 14: travellers see strange things.] just going out. by laman blanchard. "going out" is sometimes a matter of exceeding difficulty; the phrase should rather be "getting out." morning is the time for the trial to which we allude. you have an appointment of very considerable importance, and it _must_ be kept; or you have made up your mind, moved by the seductive serenity of the day, to take an easy stroll, and clear off an arrear of pleasant calls--you _must_ go. the sunny look-out is exhilarating after a week's wind and rain, which has held you prisoner in your chambers, without so much as wafting or washing a single visitor to your door. you are tired of the house, and long for the fresh calm air, like a schoolboy for a whole holiday, or a usurer for cent, per cent. every thing is looking quite gay, like a christmas fire to one who has just come out of a christmas fog. the people go by with smiling faces, and in smart attire; you consequently take a little more pains than usual with your dress,--rejecting this waistcoat as too quakerish, and selecting your liveliest pair of gloves to match--when, just as your personal equipments are all but complete, not quite,--"rat-tat-tat--tat-tat--tat!" there is a knock at the door. well, a knock at the door is no very astounding occurrence; but in this knock there is something startling, something ominous, something unwelcome. nobody has knocked (nobody in the shape of a visitor) for some days, and it has an unusual sound. had it suddenly broke in upon you while you were shaving, its effect might have been felt acutely; but you were just fixing the last shirt-stud, and a slight crumple is the sole consequence. you ring the bell hastily, rather anxious. "tim," you cry softly, admonishing the sleepy little sinecurist that attends to the door; "tim, there's a knock. now, pray be cautious; i'm going out immediately; and can't see any stranger; you know whom i'm always at home to--don't let anybody in that you don't know well--mind!" you listen, with your hands uncomfortably stretched towards the back of your neck, in the suspended action of fastening your stock; and distinctly catch tim's responsive "_yes_, sir!" so, then, you _are_ at home to somebody; and tim immediately announces mr. bluff, your oldest and best friend, who is ever welcome, and to whom you are at home at all hours;--yes,--only--only you are just now going out! but, never mind. will he wait five minutes? you won't be longer; and tim hurries off to him with the _times_. two minutes more bring you almost to the completion of your toilet, and one arm has already half insinuated itself into the--ay, in the hurry it happens, of course, to be the wrong sleeve of the waistcoat, when alarm the second sounds; there's another knock. "tim, mind! pray mind! i'm going out. i can't see a soul--unless it's somebody that i _must_ be at home to. you'll see who it is." tim returns with a card,--"mr. joseph primly." "primly, primly! oh!--a--yes--that man, yes,--you didn't say i was at home?" tim had _not_ said you were at home, he had said that he didn't know whether you would be at home to him or not, and that he would go and see! "stupid boy! well, but this primly--what can _he_ want? i never spoke to him but once, i think--must see him, i suppose, as he's a stranger. give him the _chronicle_, and say, i'm coming down in one minute--just going out." but before you _can_ "come down," before you can quite coax on the last article of attire, the knocker is again raised, and rap the third resounds. confusion thrice confounded! "now, tim, who _is_ that? i can't be at home to anybody--you'll know whether i _can_ be denied--i'm going out, tim. where are my gloves?--pray mind!" and, with an anxious face you await the third announcement. "mr. puggins cribb." this _is_ provoking. you can't be out to _him_. he is your quarrelsome friend, to whom you have just been reconciled; the irascible brother of your soul, who suspects all your motives, makes no allowances for you, and charges you with the perpetual ill-usage which he himself inflicts. should you be denied to _him_, he will be sure to suspect you are at home; and should he find you really are, he will make the grand tour of the metropolis in three days, visiting everybody who knows you, and abusing you everywhere. "yes, tim, very right--i must be at home to him. but gracious goodness, what's the time? i'm just going out!" misfortunes never come single, and visitors seldom come in twos and threes. before you are fairly at the bottom of the stairs, a fourth arrival is in all probability announced. what can you do? there was an excellent plan, first adopted by sheridan, of getting rid of untimely visitors; but then his visitors were creditors. they came early, at seven in the morning, to prevent the possibility of being tricked with the usual answer, "not at home," and of course they would not go away. one was shut up in one room, and another in another. by twelve o'clock in the day there was a vast accumulation; and at that hour, the master of the house would say, "james, are all the doors shut?" "all shut, sir." "very well, then open the _street_-door softly;" and sheridan walked quietly out between the double line of closed doors. but this plan, though a thought of it darts across your mind, you cannot put in operation against friends. you therefore face them, grasping this one vigorously by the hand; then begging to be excused for a single moment, while, with a ceremonious bow, you just touch the fingertips of another to whom you have scarcely the honour to be known,--or nod familiarly to a third in the farther corner, who, by the way, is testifying to the intimacy of his friendship, by turning over your favourite set of prints with the brisk manner of an accountant tumbling over a heap of receipts and bills of parcels. for each you have the same welcome, modified only by the tone and action that accompany it! "you are so happy that they arrived in time, for you were _just going out_, having a very important engagement;" and, curious to remark, each has the same reply to your hospitable intimation; but it is delightfully varied in voice and manner,--"_i_ shall not detain you--don't let _me_ keep you a moment." but each does;--one because he's an acquaintance only, and exacts formality; and another because he's a devoted friend, and thinks it necessary to deprecate formality fifty times over, with--"nonsense, never mind _me_--come, no ceremony--i'm going." in fact, those detain you longest with whom you can use most freedom; and though you may bow out a formal visitor in twenty minutes, it takes you half an hour to push out a friendly one. there are so many reasons why you must be at home to people; to a first, because he's a stranger, to a second because he's a relation; to one, because he was married the other day, and you must wish him joy; to another, because his play failed last night, and you must condole with him; to this, because he doesn't come for money; to that, because he does--which is the oddest of all. after a succession of pauses, hints and gentle embarrassments, three out of the four yield one by one to the pressure of appearances, and as you are evidently "going out," allow you to get out by taking their departure. only one _will_ linger to say a few words that amount to nonsense, on business that amounts to nothing, occupying professedly a minute, but in fact fifteen; when, just as he is taking his fifth start, and going in reality, crash comes the knocker once more; and that man of all your acquaintances, who never stops to ask whether you are at home or not, but stalks forward, in "at the portal," as the ghost of hamlet senior stalks out of it, now dashes rather than drops in, delighted to catch you before you make your exit, and modestly claiming just half an hour of your idle morning--not an instant more. "my dear fellow, i'm going out--a particular engagement--been kept in all the morning;--will friday do? or shall i see you at the club?" no--nothing will do but listening; and your pertinacious and not-to-be-denied detainer has just settled himself in the easiest chair, and commenced his story with, "now, come sit down, and i'll tell you all about it."--when the knocker once more summons the half-tired tim, who forthwith enters with a proclamation in an under-tone, "mr. drone, sir, comes by appointment." luckily this occasions no difficulty. mr. drone was appointed to come at eleven, and it is now half-past two; he is therefore easily dismissed; besides, appointments, in these cases, are never troublesome; you can always be very sorry at a minute's notice, be particularly engaged very unexpectedly, and appoint another hour and another day with perfect convenience.--no, it is the dropper-in who blocks up your way--it is the idler who interrupts you in your expedition;--the man of business who comes by appointment may generally be despatched without ceremony or delay! you return again to your guest with a disconsolate air, though with a desperate determination to look attentive; but _sit_ you will not; for while you keep poking the fire almost out, you seem to be preparing for your exit; and while you saunter listlessly about the room, you seem to be going; till at last you are brought to a stand-still, and compelled to submit to another bit of delay, by your visitor (who dined out, and staid late somewhere the night before) asking for a glass of sherry, and some soda-water! you hurry to the bell with the happiest grace in the world; you are ashamed of not offering something of the sort before; you beg pardon--really; and taking a seat with a smiling countenance and a heavy heart, bid a mournful adieu to every thought about your hat for the next quarter of an hour at least. at last he does go, and you feel that although the cream of the morning is skimmed off, it may still be worth while to take quietly what remains; you may visit the scene of your broken engagement, though too late; you may enjoy a diminished stroll, although the flower of the day is cropped; and in this spirit, cane in hand, and hat actually on head, you advance to the street-door delivered from every visitor. it is opened--you stand in the very door-way;--and then--then, in that moment of liberty, when you seemed free as air--you behold close to the step, and right in your path, another unconscionable acquaintance who never takes a denial, but always seizes a button instead! to retreat is impossible, to pass him unseen is equally so. your hope of going out dies of old age and ill-usage within you--you can't _get_ out. your start of vexation and dismay is involuntary, and not to be concealed; but what cares he for your disappointment, so that he catches you! "well, now i _am_ lucky," he exclaims, "one moment more, and, presto! i had missed you for the morning! come, 'going out,' is not 'gone,' anyhow--so i must just trouble you to turn back--i shan't keep you long!" of course, you explain, and protest, and are very civil and very sorry; but all this is idle. a visitor of the class to which the new-comer belongs knows very well the advantage he has over you. he smiles triumphantly, in a superb consciousness of your helpless and destitute condition. he is aware that you _can't_ shut the door in his face; that if he persists in going in, under the pretence of a moment's interview, you _must_ go in with him; that you are bound to be glad to see him, or stand exposed to the imputation of rudeness and inhospitality; that he may let you off if he likes, but that you cannot decently bolt without his consent; in short, that you are at his mercy--and this conviction teaches him to have no mercy upon you. the result! who can ask it? you turn back, take off your hat, enter the nearest room, and without the slightest movement of hospitality beyond that--without the slightest hint to the remorseless being who has followed you in that there is such a thing as a chair in the room, you rest the fingers of one hand on the table, and with your hat held resolutely in the other, await your tyrant's pleasure. _he!_--powers of impudence in the garb of intimacy, where will ye find a limit? he, the most domesticated of animals, at once finds himself in his own house. he, when his foremost foot has once gained admittance into your sanctum, feels perfectly and entirely at home. he flings himself into a chair, and after a little parley about the weather (he acknowledges that it has been the loveliest morning of the season), and the glorious effects of exercise (he confesses that nothing on earth prevents him from taking his diurnal round in the bracing period of the day), launches boldly into a dissertation on some subject of immediate interest to himself--connected perhaps with municipal institutions, and the risk he incurs if he should decline to serve the office of sheriff; this suggests to him a recollection of the sheriff, his grandfather, whose history he relates at some length, followed by a narrative of his father's remarkable exploits in the whale-trade, and of his own life down to the period of his second marriage. during all this time you have stood, too tired to interrupt--too polite at least to interrupt to any purpose--until at last, reminded by the shade creeping over the apartment that the beauty of the day is vanishing, that your meditated excursion is all but hopeless, and that you have been for the space of a brilliant summer's morning a prisoner in your own house, you savagely endeavour to bring him to the point. what _does_ he want with you? nothing; nothing of course, except a little rest after the pleasant saunter he has had--and a little refreshment also;--for when he looks at his watch (as you fondly suppose with the intention of going) he discovers that it happens to be his hour for "a snack." in short, this inveterate and uncompromising customer forcibly _has the tray up_; you haven't strength or courage to misunderstand his wishes, feeling rather faint yourself, sick of hope deferred, and inclining to potted beef. you place your hat and stick, both of which you have all this time held, upon the table; you draw off one glove; you fall-to with a famished fiend who has walked twice round the park in the bracing air; and another hour is gone. so at length is he! and now, even now the promised stroll may be seized--the coast is clear--you feel "like a giant refreshed," and after all, you cannot help owning, that it's a horribly vulgar thing to be seen strolling about before four o'clock in the day. you remember what the delicate philosopher said about the world not being properly aired before three; and bless your stars that what you have lost in health you have gained in reputation. on go your gloves once more, and--rap goes the knocker! it seems miraculous. all society is but one spiteful conspiracy against you. you forget that the same fine morning which quickened life in you kindled the fire of motion in others. no matter; the hour has at length arrived for "not at home to any human being. no, tim, not to a living soul!" unluckily, it is the fate of this most inflexible decree to be countermanded; there is one exception to the rule of not at home to anybody. "if the surveyor calls about the repairs"--ay, and it _is_ the surveyor. well, the roof, and the cracked wall, must at once be looked to; however, that will not occupy ten minutes, and to the needful business you heroically devote yourself. half-an-hour flies, and then you are finally released; but, unhappily, just at that moment the man brings home your two new coats; you must glance at one, for you may wear it at dinner. and then crawls up to the door that dilatory fellow whose tidings about the books you have been waiting for--yes, at least for a fortnight; and while discussing with him a particular achievement in binding on which you have set your heart, a letter arrives--a letter marked "important and immediate," though of no earthly consequence, and anything but pressing; still it must be answered, and accordingly the hat is once more taken off, the gloves are petulantly flung down, the cane is tossed anywhere, and-rat-tat-tat, &c. resound once more through the rooms; and following quick as though he were the visible echo of a single rap, cool sam comes in. he had found tim at the open door chatting with the messenger in waiting. cool sam! now own frankly that there is small chance of your escape on this side the dinner-hour--nay, there is none at all. an engagement you may have, a determination you may have formed; but do you for a single instant seriously expect to fulfil the one, or hold to the other? then you are a fool. we prophesy at once, that _you won't get out to-day_. a man may be always going and going, and yet never be gone. you are sam's till dinner-time, you are sam's then, and you are sam's afterwards. till bed-time (and he himself fixes that hour) you are his. mark our words if you are not. true, you tell him you have to write a letter. "write away, boy," he responds, "i can wait." you warn him that the moment this feat is accomplished, you must sally forth on urgent and especial business. "all right," he rejoins, "i'll jump into a cab with you, and we'll come back and dine. i came on purpose." a glance tells you, if your ears did not, that your guest has settled the thing. his looks, his tone, his bearing, are in exquisite agreement; for a quiet conviction, that what _he_ has made up his mind to _must_ take place, there never was anything like it. you write a word or two, and in agitation blot; another line, and then an erasure again. _does_ he mean to _stop_! your perplexity increases. no, this smudge of a note will never do; you take another sheet and recommence your epistle. "take your time, boy, take your time; we shan't dine till seven i suppose." your eye wanders for an instant, and you discover that there is but _one_ hat in the room, and that the one is your own. his is hanging up with his umbrella; he had disposed of both, like a man who means to stay, before he entered the apartment. to struggle with cool sam is in vain, to attempt it absurd. to cry like the starling, "i can't get out," doesn't open the door of your cage. instead of complaining, you soon feel grateful to him for his great consideration in allowing you to finish that letter. instead of biting your lips through and through, you laugh over your good luck in being permitted to complete the work he had interrupted. but beyond that you have no will of your own. _out!_ you might as well attempt to go out without your shadow. you may take a few turns at sunset, attended by your mephistophiles; but before you go you must issue orders for what he calls "a light dinner with a few extras" at seven. you may mourn your day lost, if you will, but you must lose your evening nevertheless; and when once more alone at past midnight, you drop off to sleep, making to yourself many delicious vows of reform; the foremost of which is, that you will be up in good time in the morning, and get out. frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter viii. the attempt to break into mrs. heartwell's cottage, and the important discovery that succeeded, were, as far as possible, kept secret; and mr. wendover's steward, in expectation of another visit from the nocturnal intruder, set a watch upon the premises. no one, however, appeared to disturb the tranquillity of the place; but still the lady could not suppress her fears, and a constant dread weighed heavily upon her spirits. frank had gone down to the nore to join the prize-crew on board the sandwich, but during his absence they had been sent round by sea to plymouth, and as no other vessel was expected to go down the channel for some time, he obtained permission to travel thither by land, hoping, as there had been a long run of strong westerly winds, to reach that port as soon as his men did. accordingly he started for london to visit his mother, and finding her much alarmed, and averse to remaining at the cottage, he removed her to ready-furnished lodgings at marylebone; when, after an interview with mr. unity peach (who promised to use his best endeavours to promote the comfort of mrs. heartwell), the young officer set out in the mail for plymouth, where, on his arrival, he at once reported himself on board the admiral, and ascertained that the vessel with the seamen had not yet got round. as his own hammock and chest were in her, permission was granted for his remaining on shore till she came into the sound. of his ship nothing accurate was known, but it was believed she had gone up the mediterranean, to join the fleet under earl st. vincent. frank's ardent attachment to helen had always exercised a powerful control over his actions. before her departure from finchley he had cherished the most sanguine hopes that his affection was returned; nothing, in fact, had ever occurred to raise the slightest doubt in his mind upon the subject; for the course of his love, though unavowed, had experienced no obstruction, nor was it till their separation that he awakened to a painful conviction of the vast difference which existed in their pecuniary circumstances. this raised apprehensions that he might have been deceiving himself, by mistaking the operations of a grateful spirit for feelings of personal regard towards himself. the mansion of mr. wendover was situated on the right bank of the river fowey, close to the pretty and romantic harbour of the same name. the distance from plymouth could not exceed twenty miles--the falmouth coach passed within a short walk of the neighbourhood--a strong westerly breeze was blowing--what, then, prevented him from trying to obtain an interview with the fair girl, and to learn from her own lips the real sentiments which she entertained for him? thus argued frank. the temptation was too powerful to be subdued--his mind was tortured by suspense, and yielding to the quick impulse of his nature, in little more than three hours he was on the borders of the domain of the wealthy merchant--and a lovely place it was. the gradual development of spring was evidenced in the bright tints of the spreading foliage; the young grass was springing in rich luxuriance; art and nature were combined to heighten the beauty of the scenery; and slumbering on the surface of the stream that ran in front of the building, laid a superb little cutter-yacht, rigged with peculiar neatness, and her ensign blowing out freely in the wind. frank's eyes glistened with the peculiar pleasure that a seaman always experiences when beholding a well-finished piece of work connected with his profession; but that was not all--the young midshipman rightly conjectured that the yacht belonged to mr. wendover; helen had most likely sailed in it; and what would he not have given to have been with her, to display his knowledge of seamanship in managing the vessel. the little punt, with two men in it, put off from the cutter to the shore; frank hurried to meet them when they landed; it was a precious opportunity by which he might gain information relative to the family. flatter a sailor's vanity in reference to his craft, and you at once possess a key to his heart. the young officer praised the beautiful vessel, and having expressed a wish to inspect her closely, he was invited to go on board. this was precisely what he wanted; the men were communicative, and he was not long in ascertaining that mr. wendover had been summoned to london on urgent business--that mrs. wendover was confined to the house by indisposition--and that miss helen was often to be seen taking her lonely walks about the grounds. the deck of the yacht commanded a full view of the house and lawn, and frank, whilst learning these particulars, watched eagerly, in hope that helen would make her appearance; nor was he disappointed, for, after a short interval, a female was observed descending the steps of the mansion, and the spy-glass at once announced to him who it was. he had already taken a hasty survey of the vessel, and having presented a donation to the crew, he requested to be put on shore. helen had never ceased to cherish a strong feeling of real affection for frank heartwell, but she had never adequately known its power and extent, till the period of their separation; and though her father had not openly declared the occasion of her removal from finchley, yet love is quick-witted in discovering causes; and knowing his determined character, she saw at once that he had opposed a barrier to her heart's dearest wishes. his conversations relative to her future prospects of aggrandisement opened to her conviction that he expected rigid obedience to his commands. but helen could not--in fact, she did not try, to conquer the esteem for the young sailor, which had strengthened with her years--he had been the means of rescuing herself and her parents from threatened destruction--gratitude had ripened into love, and had become the sweetest contemplation of her life. yet frank had never made any avowal, and doubts similar to his own would at times cross her mind. mr. wendover could not but be sensible, by the change in his daughter's health and gaiety, that the disappointment had caused the most acute distress; still, however, he hoped that time would deaden the affliction, and she would forget the young officer. it was in vain, however, that he strove to raise her sunken spirits by excursions of pleasure abroad, and amusing pastimes at home. the bloom was leaving her cheeks, and her beautiful form began to waste away, for there was a sickness at her heart. when helen left the house that morning, her thoughts were dwelling upon frank with all the tenderness of woman's gentle nature; she loved to stroll through the avenues alone, for no one there could disturb her meditations. she was turning the angle of one of the alleys, when frank stood before her, and, the ardour of her feelings overcoming the coldness of formality, the next instant she was encircled in his arms, whilst unrepressed tears of surprise and delight came gushing from her eyes. when the first burst of joy at meeting had subsided, they conversed more calmly, and frank, whose doubts had been at once dispersed through the undisguised manifestations of attachment which his reception had evinced, now unequivocally declared, that "the happiness of his future existence depended upon helen. he was not insensible to the hostility he must expect to meet with from her father; but he hoped by strenuous exertions in his profession to overcome even that, provided he might rely with confidence on her undeviating regard." their interview was not of long duration, but it was decisive to the peace of both. helen candidly admitted her love for frank, and though with the acknowledgment came apprehensions of her father's displeasure, yet he tried to soothe her alarm, by assurances that his prospects would brighten--prosperity had already smiled upon him--and could he once attain the rank of captain, he should consider himself eligible to propose to mr. wendover for his daughter's hand. at all events, he determined to persevere with unremitting ardour and hope, and enterprise gave promise of success. harmonious to the ear and grateful to the heart is the persuasive voice of one beloved. helen placed perfect reliance on all frank said, and there, in the sight of heaven, they mutually pledged their vows of faith and constancy. the young officer returned to plymouth more assured, nay, comparatively happy, and, the vessel arriving with his people, he solicited to be put in active service. a number of ships were fitting out to join earl st. vincent, and strengthen the force in the mediterranean. frank and his men were sent on board a frigate, which soon afterwards went out from hamoaze into cawsand bay, but, as a matter of course, the boats were still employed in bringing off stores. it was about three weeks after his interview with helen, that frank had charge of a pinnace to convey a rather heavy freight from the dockyard, and though blowing hard from the north-west, he had strict orders to use his best endeavours to get out to the ship. the gale, however, increased, and the broken sea came tumbling in against a strong tide, so that he was driven to leeward. a dark night closed in upon them--the boat was half full of water--and, to add to their calamities, they struck upon the shagstone rocks, and narrowly escaped with their lives. the pinnace was in a sinking state, when frank deemed it advisable to lighten the boat, and to bear up for yealur river; but the atmosphere was too dense to allow of their distinguishing objects on the land, and the sea was breaking fearfully high wherever they approached the shore, so that it threatened certain death should an attempt be made to run the boat in. all night they toiled, but towards daylight they were so close to the rocks, and drifted in so fast, that their fate seemed inevitable. the pinnace struck and was dashed to pieces; but frank, being an excellent swimmer, after some buffeting amongst the breakers, succeeded in getting sure footing; and now that he was himself in safety, his anxious care was turned to his boat's crew. this is a trying moment to an officer, whose first thoughts are generally devoted to the brave fellows who have shared his perils, and frank felt it. two or three he knew were saved, for they were with him, but the fate of the rest could be but conjecture. happily, however, though separated when wrecked, daylight brought them again round their officer, and the reckless humour of the tar soon prevailed over all sense of the dangers they had escaped. a few fishermen's huts afforded them shelter, and as these men occasionally ran across to guernsey and jersey, there was no lack of brandy, though at first it was produced with great caution. the pinnace was irrecoverably gone--not a single trace of her was to be seen, and, consequently, after a plentiful repast, and a short rest, frank prepared to set out with his men on foot for mount batten, where he expected to obtain boats to carry them over to plymouth. the gallant fellows had mustered in what they called "good sailing trim," and were just on the point of departure when a cutter was seen urging her wild and headlong course towards the rocks, and from the manner of her approach, a nautical eye could easily detect that either her rudder was gone, or had sustained so much injury as to defy all control from the helm--her sails were blown to ribands--her topmast and bowsprit were carried away--and it was evident to all that she was hurrying to destruction. sometimes taking the seas clean over her broadside; at others almost buried beneath the waves that broke over as she rushed stem on, the deck of the cutter was now distinctly visible, as the crew, in wild despair, were clinging to the rigging; but what was frank's agony when, by the aid of a glass he recognized the vessel to be the pretty little yacht that he had inspected, as she laid at anchor before mr. wendover's house, at fowey; and as he could distinguish the white dresses of females, he made no doubt that helen and her mother were on board. the young officer immediately assumed a command--his own men were prompt in obedience, and the fishermen were not less so through humanity. they tried to launch a boat, but the thing was impracticable; the sea drove her instantly back again, a perfect wreck. onwards came the cutter, till she struck on the rocks, at no great distance from the shore; the boat was launched from her deck, and a temporary lull enabled most of those on board to jump into her; but another sea came rolling in, and the boat was separated from the vessel. what anxious agonizing moments were those to frank! he could not see who had left the cutter; but amidst the foaming of the breakers, it was evident that more than one swimmer in his strong agony was struggling with death. the small boat rose buoyant on the summits of the waves; the men pulled steadily; the people on shore waved them to the safest place for landing, and thither they sped; but before they could reach the shore they were caught by the recoil of the sea, as a raging breaker came curling its monstrous head astern, the boat was overset by its violence, and then dashed up upon the strand. in a moment frank threw off his coat and waistcoat, and with his hardy band, rushed forward and grasped at all within their reach; the young midshipman was guided to a female, by her clothes appearing for an instant floating on the surface of the troubled waters. she was sinking, but he dived and brought her up again, just as the swell washed them within the range of further help from the shore, and the female was carried forward to a place of safety; it was helen's mother. but where was the daughter? frank would have again plunged into the waves; but on passing through a group, near where the boat had been thrown up, he heard the voice of mr. wendover, in earnest entreaty for them "to save his child." he seemed to be almost bereft of reason, as he wildly clutched his hair in agony, and pointed to the cutter, where a female was discerned clinging to the taffrail. "launch the boat again!" he loudly shouted, "i will go myself if no one will accompany me;" and then with imploring cries he offered the most lavish rewards to any one who should save his child from such imminent danger. to satisfy him, the men endeavoured to launch the boat--but frank saw the impossibility of accomplishing it, and instantly nerved himself for the occasion, with coolness and intrepidity. he watched for a moment the set of the tide and the drift of the sea; then hurrying to a projecting rock to take advantage of both, he bound a handkerchief tight round his loins, as he looked undauntedly upon his task, breathed a short prayer to heaven for its aid, and then exclaiming "helen, helen, i will save you or we will die together!" he plunged into the foaming billows just as the boat washed back again upon the beach showed the utter impracticability of affording help from that quarter. all eyes were now directed towards the swimmer, who boldly breasted the surge, dashing aside the white spray, as the raging element yielded to the energy of his sinewy arms: sometimes lost to sight in the hollow between the waves, then rising on the coom of the sea, he became a conspicuous object as he fearlessly cleaved his way, and bursts of admiration, as well as fervent petitions for his success, arose from the throng assembled on the shore. [illustration: the wreck. london: tilt & bogue, fleet street.] the fainting helen beheld his approach, but she knew not who it was that was thus risking his existence to try and preserve hers--the never-dying principles of hope revived her faculties; though at times when the head of the swimmer was obscured by intervening billows, her heart sickened with alarm as she feared he had sunk to rise no more. then again when surmounting the crest of the wave, she saw him fearlessly lessening the distance between them, a re-action took place in her bosom, and fervently she prayed to the omnipotent to stretch forth his hand and save. the pleasures of past enjoyments never seem so precious and valuable as when the extreme of peril threatens dissolution. home, friends, and those beloved cling round the very soul as if to bind it more firmly to existence, and to render more arduous the struggle of separation from the body. helen experienced this as the seas came breaking over the cutter, and she beheld her relatives upon the shore. but her principal remembrances were devoted to frank; and as the swimmer approached, and his features became more distinct, she fancied she could trace a resemblance to him of whom she was thinking; the bare conjecture caused a sudden thrill through every vein; but when she heard the voice of her lover as he ascended to the deck and gained the taffrail, even the appalling danger was almost forgotten in the sudden delight of her heart at his noble and generous conduct. his presence re-assured her; his soothing language allayed her fears; and though the sea at intervals broke over them, yet there was now a confidence in her bosom, for frank was with her. but no time was to be lost; the young midshipman feared that his own strength would not bear him out to carry her to the shore; the wreck of the main-boom was floating alongside, and he resolved to lash helen to the spar. at first she shrunk from the hazard, but frank clasped her in his arms, pressed her to his heart, and fervently imploring the blessing of omnipotence upon his efforts, at once proceeded to his perilous undertaking; he succeeded in lashing helen to the boom, impressed upon her mind the absolute necessity of clinging fast to her support, and then with his knife was cutting away the jaw-rope, as the body of a female floated up the space that had been covered by the skylight--she was dead. helen did not see her, and frank, without delay, separated the boom from the wreck. then springing into the sea, he directed the course of its drift for the shore, where the agonized father and the anxious seamen beheld what was passing, and waited in excited expectation for the result. the raft bore up its burthen well, and frank swimming close to her cheered the terrified girl as they neared the land, and the waves dashed over them with resistless fury. the spectators calculating the precise spot where they would take the ground, hastened thither, and more than one brave fellow rushed through the surf to lend his officer a hand. they were in the breakers; the boiling and bubbling foam was raging around them--the noise of the waters was hissing and howling in their ears, when frank cut away the lashing that sustained helen, and disengaged her from the spar, lest she should be injured by the concussion as it struck the rocks: supporting her by one arm, he manfully plied the other; two of the seamen kept near him; a heavy sea rolled them over, but frank, though almost exhausted, still maintained his hold; the next minute they were washed up upon the shore, and, raised on the shoulders of the people, were carried to dry land. extreme, indeed, was the joy of mr. wendover as he clasped his child, and implored blessings on her deliverer, whom in his wet condition, with his hair hanging about his face, the merchant did not recognize, but to whom he promised payment of the large reward which he had offered, supposing that alone to have been the motive for going to the rescue of helen. frank made no reply, for ignorant of mr. wendover's forgetfulness, he imagined that he must be known, and he felt indignant at money being offered for saving one who was far more precious to him than his own life. helen was carried to the hut where her mother had already been kindly cared for, and the merchant never left his child, who, at first, sank into insensibility through terror and fatigue, and on her recovery gazed wildly round, and called upon frank as her rescuer from death. mr. wendover at first considered it the ravings of a disordered imagination; but when grown more calm his daughter assured him of the fact, the merchant exclaimed, "the hand of providence is in this; he above all others is the man i wish to see, nor will i any longer oppose your affection; he has a second time saved my child, and he is worthy of her." wishing to atone for his neglect, he went himself in search of frank, but young heartwell, after seeing helen in security, had quitted the place with his people, and was some distance on his way to plymouth. one of the seamen of the cutter accompanied them, and from him the young officer learned that they were on their way round to the thames when the gale caught them. at the time the yacht struck the rocks and the boat was launched, a favourite servant of miss wendover's was in the cabin; helen had generously hastened down with the captain to fetch her up. whilst thus engaged, the rope that held the boat parted--the cabin was nearly filled--helen was forced by the captain to the deck and lashed to the taffrail--he himself was washed overboard; and frank rightly conjectured that the body he had seen floating was that of the drowned servant. mr. wendover would have sent messengers after young heartwell, but, as he purposed removing his family as soon as conveyances could be procured, he thought the delay of a day or two could not be of much consequence; but when the time arrived, and helen was all delight at the prospect which was opening before her, they ascertained that the frigate had sailed only a few hours before for the mediterranean. a theatrical curiosity. once in a barn theatric, deep in kent, a famed tragedian--one of tuneful tongue- appeared for that night only--'twas charles young. as rolla he. and as that innocent, the child of hapless cora, on there went a smiling, fair-hair'd girl. she scarcely flung a shadow, as she walked the lamps among- so light she seem'd, and so intelligent! that child would rolla bear to cora's lap: snatching the creature by her tiny gown, he plants her on his shoulder,--all, all clap! while all with praise the infant wonder crown, _she_ lisps in rolla's ear,--"_look out, old chap, or else i'm blow'd if you don't have me down!_" sliding-scales. the most remarkable sliding-scale of which fiction has any record is the rainbow on which munchausen, with such inimitable ease, effected his railroad descent from mid-air; but fact has her extraordinary sliding-scales too. take a modern example in the one which carried napoleon from moscow to elba, equalled only by that which bore him afterwards from waterloo to st. helena. life in its several stages is but a succession of sliding-scales. take a bird's-eye view of society, and what do you see but two classes; one endeavouring to slide up an ascent, and another endeavouring not to slide down. the world, instead of being represented as round as an o, might more aptly be figured by the letter a, which is composed of two inclined planes; the way up being narrow and hard to climb, but the way down being broad and open enough. there is the moral sliding-scale and the intellectual sliding-scale. on the one, we see a man passing, by regular degrees, from a meanness to a degradation; from a little shabbiness to a great crime; from a lie thought to a lie acted; from an evasion to a shuffle; from a shuffle to a swindle; from swindling to consummate depravity; from the first sixpence penuriously saved to the heaped hoards of avarice. on the other, we see the mind gradually drawn out from weakness to power; from dulness to brilliancy; from the frivolous dreams of childhood to the conceptions of a gigantic imagination; the heavy schoolboy ripening into the lively poet; the reckless truant settling into the wise and thoughtful student. there is the sliding-scale of fortune, the sliding-scale of manners, the sliding-scale of appetite; penury slides into affluence, rustic modesty becomes town-bred impudence, the _gourmand_ eats himself down to a dry crust. it is sad enough to see a gentlemen slide off his saddle-horse, and take to drawing a truck; but these declensions will happen, and they are not so distressing as it is to see a philosopher turning footman, an orator turning twaddler, or a patriot turning toady. then there is the sliding-scale theatrical. by what a natural and unerring sliding-scale does some popular tragedian come down at last from richard the third to the lord mayor! "i wore that very dress as romeo," said a london player, of small parts, "when i starred it in the provinces." the romantic beauty of juliet declines into the grotesque rheumatism of the nurse. we say nothing of the tradesman's scale, which is an affair of weights; nor of the scale-musical, which is one of measures. but of the sliding-scale which is best understood, and perhaps most freely acted upon in every great city and small town, our marginal series of "scenes from real life" will afford the best exemplification; and so we direct the reader to them. [illustration] [illustration] sketches here, there, and everywhere. by a. bird. a stage-coach race. poor macadam! his honoured dust will soon be forgotten! in cities it is buried, or soon will be, in wood; and few of the millions who glide and slide over the wooden pavement, will think of the "colossus of roads," whose dust it covers like a coffin. our course is no longer "o'er hills and dales, through woods and vales," which the many-handed macadam made smooth and easy. our carriage, placed like the toy of a child, goes without horses. the beautiful country--the cheerful "public," with its porch, its honeysuckle and roses--the sign which bade the "weary traveller rest" on the seat beneath the spreading elm;--these are no more!--this is the iron age--fire and steam are as the breath of our nostrils--we speak by the flash of lightning--we have given life to emptiness, and fly upon the wings of a vacuum--our path is through the blasted rock, the cold dark dreary tunnel--through cheerless banks, which shut us from the world like a living grave--on--on--on--we speed! the dying must die! the burning must burn! there is no appeal--no tarrying by the way. like the whirlwind we are hurried to our end. the screech of women in despair is drowned by the clash, the din, the screech of the "blatant beast," the mad monster which man has laid his finger on, and tamed to his uses. this is all very fine, and, doubtless, _il faut marcher avec son siècle_, if we do not wish to be left behind in the race that is before us. doubtless, too, our children, like calves born by the side of a railroad, will look on these things as a matter of course, and let them pass with high-bred indifference. and if, as most assuredly will be the case, some of these children should become mothers in due course of time, we can fancy them so philosophized by force of habit, so inured to the wholesale smashing and crashing of the human form divine, that, should a door fly open and let an infant drop, the mama will sit quiet till the next station cries halt! and then merely request that a man and basket be despatched to pick up the pieces left some seven miles off![15] "_chi lo sa!_" as the neapolitans say in cases of extreme doubt and difficulty; "_chi lo sa_," say i; and having been born before the earth was swaddled up in iron, or the sea danced over by iron ships, i confess a sneaking fondness for the highways, and byways, and old ways of old england; and, when not pressed for time, i delight in honouring the remains of poor old macadam. a fortnight ago, having occasion to visit somerset, i found myself _en route_, at cheltenham--a place, by the way, which always reminds me of miscellaneous articles stored in a second-hand shop; it is sure to come into use once in seven years. there i was for the night, luxuriously lodged in this anglo-foreign town, this self-styled "queen of watering-places," this city of salt--or salts, as some malicious pluralists will have it--there i was, and long ere morning broke, i had decided upon cutting the rail and coaching it to bristol; in other words, as time was not an object, i would not go some fifty miles round to save it. i was soon seated by my old friend, "coachee." coachee was a character _sui generis_, of a race which will soon be extinct; i had known him in the "palmy days" of the road, and remembered the time when he, with his pair, was selected to tease and oppose the prettiest four-in-hand that ever trotted fourteen miles an hour. it was, if i'm not mistaken, in 1832, that "the exquisite" first started from exeter to cheltenham, and weighing the coach, the cattle and coachman together, never was a turn-out more worthy of the title. to oppose this with a pair was a bold conception, but "coachee" was an old stager; "what man dared do" he dared, and did it well. "strange changes, mr. coachee, since you and i first knew each other," said i to my right hand friend, as soon as we had cleared the rattle of the stones. coachee turned his head slowly round, and looked me full in the face; he _drew in_ such a sigh, and put on such a look of miserable scorn, that i felt for the silent sufferer. yet was i dumbfounded by his silence; i had looked for the jibes and jests which were wont to put us outsides in a roar,--but to see "coachee" turned into a man of mute sorrow, was a character so new and unnatural, that--extremes will meet--i burst into a hearty fit of laughter. coachee attempted to preserve the penseroso, and with ill-feigned gravity tried to reprove me, by saying,--"_you_ may laugh, sir, but it's no joke for _us_ as loses." with what tact i could bring to bear, i revived the memory of former days, the coachman's golden age! i spoke of "the exquisite," and asked if he did not once beat it with his pair. "so you've heard tell of that, have you?" and alexander never chuckled half so much to hear his praises sung, as coachee did at the thoughts of his victory. i told him i had heard of it from others, but never from his own mouth, which was half the battle. there needed but little persuasion to make him tell his own story. "it's all as true as i am sitting on this here box, and this is how it came to pass. it was one sunday evening that some of us whips had met to crack a few bottles. 'the exquisite' had just been put upon the road, and who should be there but mr. banks as drove it, and who should be there too but i as was started to oppose it. well, it so happened i hadn't a single passenger booked inside nor out, for monday! well, thinks i, mr. banks, if i and my coach can't give you the go-by to-morrow, i don't know inside from out, and so i told him. 'that's _your_ opinion is it, mr. bond?' said mr. banks, with a smile, and a sniff at a pink in his button-hole. 'yes, mr. banks,' says i; 'and what's more, i'll stick to it, and here's a sovereign to back it.' will. meadows, him as used to drive the 'hi-run-dell,' he thought he'd do me; so he claps down his bit of gold, and the bet was made. there's an end of that, said i, and now, mr. banks, let's have a bumper. 'here's to you, my exquisite,' says i, as we bobbed and nobbed. 'here's to you, mr. h-opposition,' says he, and i hopes you'll tell me the time o' day to-morrow morning.' but he didn't think i should for all that. well, now, sir, what do you think i should find when i goes the first thing on monday morning to our office?" "your h-opposition coach and a pair of horses?" said i, inquiringly. "right enough, so far,--but what think you of finding four ins and eight outs, all booked for bristol! well, thinks i, mr. banks, this alters the case, and my sovereign felt uncommon light all of a sudden. howsomever, up i gets, and, says i to my box-companion, you won't mind if i goes a little fast, will you? 'mind!' said he, 'why, you can't go too fast for me.' he was one of the right sort, d'ye see, and enjoyed the fun as much as me. 'all right?' says i; 'all right,' says bill, and away we goes. i got the start, for in those days 'the exquisite' was sure to load like a waggon. away i went, with such a pair! they stepped as if they hadn't got but four legs between 'em; and, up to gloucester, mr. exquisite's four tits couldn't touch 'em. now, as ill-luck would have it, it wasn't my day for 'the bell,' so while i turns out of the line to change at the booth hall, up comes 'the exquisite' and gives us the go-by: there warn't no help for it, but what aggravated me the most was, to see mr. banks tip me a nod with his elbow, as much as to say, 'good bye till to-morrow!' what was worse, two of my ins was booked for gloucester; and what was worse again, they was both ladies. now, ladies--bless 'em all for all that!--but ladies and luggage are one, says i, they never goes apart; and such a load of traps i never see'd, with a poll parrot, and a dozen dicky-birds for a clincher! well, there warn't no help for it.--come, jacky, my boy, says i, give a hand with them straps--there--now t'other--all snug?--off with you!--and jack soon found the wheel warn't meant for a footstool--off he leapt--the ladder fell into the gutter, and away we went at last. we couldn't touch 'em that stage--no wonder neither, for there never was a prettier team before me, and that 'ere exquisite chap--though i used to call him 'mr. h-opposition'--handled his ribbons like a man. the dust was light, and i tracked him like a hare in the snow. he never lost an inch that day--there were his two wheel-marks right ahead--straight as an arrow, and looked for all the world as if ruled with a--what do ye call them 'ere rulers that walk after one another?" i hesitated for a moment, and then hit upon--a parallel ruler-"aye, to be sure. well, his two tracks looked for all the world as if they'd been ruled with a parable ruler; but for all that, we got a sight of him before he changed again. 'now or never!' thought i, for i could do as i liked in those days, as one man horsed the whole line. 'so,' says i to our ostler, 'you go and clap the harness on the bay-mare, while i tackle these two; i've a heavy load, and wants a little help.' no sooner said, than done. 'now, my pretty one,' says i to the little mare, 'you must step out for me to-day, and it's in you i know.' so i just let my lash fall like a feather on her haunch, and, for the life and soul of me, i thought she'd have leapt out of the harness. all right, thinks i, i have it now; and bating twelvepence, my sovereign's worth a guinea. "we wasn't long a coming up, and when 'mr. h-opposition' saw my pair with the bay mare a-head, he didn't like it, you may be sure of that. well, i let's him take the lead that stage. we wasn't long a changing--a wisp o' wet hay to the little mare's nose, and away she went again as fresh as a four-year-old, and 'the exquisite' couldn't get away from us no more than a dog from his tail. "'ah!' says mr. banks, as i puts my leader alongside of him, 'is that you, mr. bond! have you been coming across the fields? i didn't think to hear the time o' day from you, mr. bond.' 'didn't you?' says i. 'no,' says, he; 'shall i say you're a coming into bristol?' "before i could say yes or no, he gave the prettiest double cut to his leaders with one turn of his hand, that ever i see'd--they sprang like light--whish! whish! went the double thong across the wheelers.--he warn't a second about it all, and while i looked, he was gone like a shot. though i didn't like it much then, i must say it was the cleanest start i ever clapped eyes upon, and ne'er a whip in england couldn't say it warn't. 'no chance that stage,' said i, growing rather impatient; we warn't far behind for all that--and now, thought i, comes my turn--play or pay's the word--for i knowed my country; leaders down hill ben't no manner of use, quite contrawise; a coachman has enough to do to keep the pole from tickling their tails, and hasn't much time for nothing else. the little mare had done her work, and away we went with such a pair! they'd ha' pulled the wheels off if i'd 'a told them; they know'd i'd got a bet as well as if i'd said so, and away they went the railroad pace." "what!" asked i, "before railroads were thought of?" coachee always had his answer--"what if they war'n't?--no odds for that--we got the start of _them_ that day, and, maybe, they took the hint--worse luck too, say i--but away we went--it was all neck-and-neck--first and second--second and first. if banks beat, up--bond beat, down--till at last 'mr. h-opposition' see'd how the game was going, and that he hadn't a chance; but he wouldn't allow it, not he. so he pulls up and calls to his guard, and tells him to put the tackle to rights, though there war'n't nothing the matter--and lets me go by as if he wasn't beaten. so, as we passes, i pulls out my watch and _tells him the time o' day_! 'and, mr. banks,' says i, 'what shall i order for your supper?'" as coachee wound up the tale of his by-gone victory, it brought on a fit of laughter, which i began to think would never end; when, on a sudden it ceased, and with horror and consternation painted in his face, he exclaimed, "well, bless my heart alive, that ever i should live to see such a thing!" "where! what!" said i looking right and left, and almost expecting to see some wonderful beast pop over the hedge. "well, now, it hasn't got no outside, and"--after a pause--"no, nor i'm blest if it has any inside!" i guessed his meaning by this time; but affecting ignorance, i asked, "what is that wonderful animal without any inside?" "animal!" he exclaimed, "why, don't you see the poor old exquisite a coming by itself?" "there is a coachman," said i, as gravely as i could. "poor banks!" said coachee, quite touched with compassion, and heedless of my remark. he pulled up, so did the exquisite. "well, now, i'm blest, if this isn't worse than solitary confinement, it makes my stomach ache, mr. banks!" (a poet would have said, "_my heart_," but depend upon it, coachee meant the same thing.) "a bad day's work, mr. bond, but we can't expect no otherwise now," said he of the once "palmy" exquisite, yet looking more cheerful than might have been expected. "a sad change, mr. banks. why, that 'ere near leader looks as if it hadn't strength to draw your hat off." "you're about right there, mr. bond, but,"--and here the flash of humour of brighter days lit up the features of mr. banks,--"but do you know what the tories are going to do with us old coachmen?" mr. bond shook his head, and murmured--"not i!" "well, then, i'll tell you, mr. bond: they're agoing to plant us for milestones along the railroad." another fit of laughter came on, and it was with difficulty that mr. bond could articulate, "good bye! good bye!" as we drove on our course to bristol. [illustration] footnote: [footnote 15: not long since a man, heedless or drunk, fell asleep upon a railroad; the train arrived, and literally cut him to pieces. "i suppose, sir, we had better _get the man together_?" said a labourer, soon after the accident had occurred. "by all means," answered he in authority. death is but death, we allow; but death by the railroad is not only wholesale but frightfully terrific. to avoid the chance of such accidents, when possible, is an imperative duty, and every road which crosses a _railroad_ should be _over or under it_. we need only refer to two recent accidents caused by the want of such prevention.] another curiosity of literature. the knocker aches with motion; day by day the door groans on with hard and desperate knocks; duns--gentle, fervent, furious--come in flocks; and still they press, and still they go away, and call again, and saunter off, or stay; duns of all shapes--the goose, the wolf, the fox- all punctual by their several parish-clocks: and still the answer is the same--no pay! alas! that house one penny doth not hold,- one farthing were not found, on hands and knees, no, not a doit, in all its crevices; yet sits the inmate, cramp'd, and lean, and cold, writing a pamphlet;--and its title? "_gold!_ or, england's debt paid off with perfect ease." a horrible passage in my early life. "make the most of your school-days, my lad; they'll be the happiest of your life!" so said a kind friend, who called on me once when i was in that state called _pupillaris_. he gave me the advice, and i grinned approval; he did _not_ give me a "tip," and i considered him a mean and despicable wretch, and his advice not worth listening to. still did the words oft recur to me; and with especial force did they recur on the subsequent saturday, when i was preparing to "avail myself of a kind invitation" to dine and sleep out, and was packing carefully up, in a crumpled piece of _bell's life_, (which, in the capacity of fag, i had appropriated as a perquisite from my master's store,) such necessaries as such a sojourn demanded. and the result was, that as my nose inhaled the undeniable evidence of the approach of dinner below, and i felt the pleasing conviction to an empty stomach, that, until seven, at least, _i_ should not hear the apoplectic butler assert, in voice abdominal, that dinner was on the table, i gave a long sniff, and sighed, "well! perhaps they are!" i had got at last clear of the city. my pocket was devoid of coin--of the lowest even, else should i have called a cab, (for in those days neither shillibeer nor g. c^k. had started a "bus.") as it was, i walked, and was just entering piccadilly from the circus, when a laugh in my rear made me turn rapidly, and my eyes encountered--a tall butcher's boy! he was habited in a grey frieze coat, corduroy smalls, and blue apron. his hair was well plastered down. he had no cap; but he had a pair of "aggravators" trained on either temple. his eyes were large; his cheeks beefy; and withal, he carried on his shoulder a tray, and _it_ carried--ugh!----a large piece of _liver_! _that_ i saw _then_. an indescribable awe spread through my frame--my feelings were what the wretch behind me would have called "offal." i knew, as though by instinct, that i had in piccadilly seen, what napoleon saw at acre--the man who should mar my destiny! abstractedly, there is nothing absolutely and inherently vicious in a butcher's boy; on the contrary, he may be decidedly virtuous--nay, we have in our mind's eye cases which would go far to prove that high moral integrity and humanity of sentiment are quite compatible with his most necessary trade. is it then asked, why this individual should excite at once in my boyish bosom such lively feelings of horror--such forebodings of evil? i can give no more reason for it than did my friend grant, (who tells such jolly stories,) for declining to show his box of silk-worms to an inquiring friend. "grant! just let's have a look at your silk-worms--there's a good fellow!"--"no!"--"why not, man?"--"_because not!_" my answer must be similar in spirit, if not in letter. i _knew_ that the odious individual was destined to be my evil genius for the day. but to my tale. the owner of the large optics--the bearer of "the tray," returned my gaze. its result as to any favourable impression of my personal appearance on his mind seemed doubtful. he merely remarked, however, "vell, you _are_ a nice swell for a small party, you are!" i walked on. the observation set me contemplating my admirable blue jacket, with its neat row of buttons; my exceedingly pleasing waistcoat, and pantaloons of black; my large white collar, and unexceptionable shirt-front; not to mention the oxford shoes, and the beaver hat, which, on a pretence of excessive heat, and after the manner of elderly gentlemen in kensington gardens, i took off, that my eyes might be satisfied that _it_ was all right. the result of the scrutiny was a feeling that the remark of the wretch (who might or might not be following--look round again i dared not) was not only quite natural, but, taking the word "swell" in its better acceptation, quite consistent with the truth. on, therefore, i walked, and by the time i reached sackville street, became tranquil again. now, to all london peripatetics the print-shop at the corner of that street must be well known. it was at this identical place that i made a halt, and a determination at the same time to have a regular jolly good look at all the pictures (for by st. james's it was now only two o'clock); beginning, in the orthodox way, with the last bar of the "airy" up sackville street, and "the norwich mail in a thunderstorm;" and gradually proceeding to the last bar up piccadilly, and an earnest scrutiny of some stout gentleman in spectacles, who always _will_ stand at the end of a print-shop window, to prevent one's satisfactorily finishing everything. "how uncertain are all sublunary things!"--"all that's bright must fade," &c., are remarks which one occasionally meets with in the works of english authors, and is very apt to treat with contempt. yet who can predicate at two o'clock that he shall be happy at a quarter past? i had, in the prosecution of my plan, got half-way down the railings in sackville street, and had arrived opposite a peculiar pane of glass, wherein, as in a mirror, my own happy face, and the especial whiteness of my shirt-collar, were revealed to my gratified vision. i had just given the last-named a gentle pull up, and was smiling in the consciousness of "youth and grace, and"--in short, i was _satisfied_ with myself--when-"vell, i'm blowed if you an't precious sveet on that 'ere phiz o' your'n, young un!" i turned in horror. close behind me there stood a butcher's boy--_the_ butcher's boy! (there was but one in london that day)--those eyes--those corduroys--_that tray_! i shrunk within myself--i almost wished that the bar i stood on might give way and admit me into the "airy." i mechanically uttered some deprecatory expression, scarce conscious of anything but the existence of a butcher's boy, with large eyes, and a tray! "vell, turnips!" (i had light--very light hair) "vot are yer a looking at now?--a com-paring that ugly phiz o' yourn with a gen'leman's?" i felt that the last word conveyed a reproach, and my spirits rose so high as to explode in the assertion, "i didn't speak to you!" "o, didn't yer, turnips?-vell, just take _that_, then; and never mind the change!" his hand was raised rapidly to his tray--a dark substance rose high in the air. blash! it came--all over my face--my collar: _the_ cherished collar! my eyes sought the pane wherein so lately i had gazed with pride. "one dark red stain" was too visible. i _felt_ then, and _knew_, that i had had my face slapped--literally slapped--with a piece of _liver_! the criminal on the gallows, exposed to the groans of the brutal mob, may feel as degraded (no one else can) as i did, whilst weeping i pursued my way. the very red plush smalls of him who admitted me at last into the privacy of a house, from the gaze of grinning thousands, seemed to mock my misery. i dared not go up-stairs. i remained below weeping; till a kind old lady--whence should relief to the wretched come?--came to comfort me. my face was cleansed from the stain, but remembrance could not be washed away; i was supplied with a pretty suit from her son's wardrobe--it could not cover my sense of degradation. even the desired dinner failed to bring the desired oblivion; and when two elderly ladies who _would_ sing duets began to practise their favourite one, the words that struck my ears were, "flow on, thou shining _liver_!" * * * john copus. the miscreant author of my woe has not escaped. for in one of _his_ limnings in whose vehicle i ride, there may be seen, with a malicious grin on his face, such as he wore after the consummation of my woe, contemplating the capture of poor oliver twist by the interesting nancy, and her ruffian bill sikes--a _butcher's boy_. note him well--_the_ butcher's boy. hair--corduroys--and _tray_!--j. c. *** our sensitive and acutely-suffering correspondent who so keenly remembers the woes of his boyhood, has, by the force of his memory, recalled to our own recollection another specimen of the tray-carrying fraternity. we subjoin his portrait, for the benefit of every juvenile diner-out who entertains a horror of liver! the artist insists that it _is_ a portrait, and no invention. [illustration] two of a trade. "with such a dear companion at my side."---wordsworth. oh! marvellous boy, what marvel when i met thy dog and thee, i marvell'd if to dogs or men you traced your ancestry! if changed from what you once were known, as sorrow turns to joy, the boy more like the dog had grown, the dog more like the boy. it would a prophet's eyesight baulk, to see through time's dark fog, if on four legs the boy will walk, or if on two the dog. oh pair! what were ye both _at first_? the one a feeble pup; a babe the other, fondly nursed- how _have_ ye been brought up? oh, boy! and wert thou once a child, a cherub small and soft, on whom two human beings smiled, and pray'd for, oft and oft? a creature, rosy, plump and fair, half meekness and half joy; a wingless angel with light hair!- oh! wert thou, butcher-boy? a thing more gentle, laughing, light, more blythe, more full of play, than e'er _he_ was--that luckless wight!- the lamb you stuck to-day? and thou, o dog, with deep-set eyes, wert thou, like love, once blind; with helpless limbs, of pigmy size, and voice that scarcely whined? how grew your legs so like to _his_, your growl so like his tone? and when did he first see your phiz reflected in his own? bravely have both your likeness worn; alike, without, within; brethren ye are, and each was born, like happiness, "a twin!" yet can it be, oh! butcher-boy, thou com'st of adam's race? then adam's gold has much alloy!- was this _his_ form and face? art thou descended from the pair from whom the cæsars came? wore alexander such an air? look'd cheops much the same? and thou, oh! butcher's cur, is't true that _thy_ first parents e'er from eden's garden lapp'd the dew, and breathed in rapture there? yes! those from whom you spring, no doubt, who lived like dogs, and died, must once have follow'd eve about, and walk'd by adam's side. l. b. omnibus chat. the noble art of boxing made a hit in its day; but it is now numbered amongst the dead or dying, and the art of striking reigns in its stead. little has been heard of throughout the month but the "strikes" that have taken place at the various public works, among the masons. "masonic brethren" they have proved themselves, by the secrecy of their communications, and the sympathetic character of their movements. they struck first at the houses of parliament, then at nelson's monument, then at woolwich. not being in want of bread, they refused us a stone. punctual to a moment, as the horse guards' clock struck, they did. our omnibus stopped, like the workmen, at charing-cross. "so the masons at nelson's monument are going to strike," said we. "glad to hear it," rejoined a punning acquaintance, "there ought to be something striking about a monument to _him_!" the name of nelson set all our companions talking; but an "old sailor" (not _the_) was the first to give his discourse a reportable shape, by relating a little historical fact that has escaped history--unimportant, perhaps, but not uninteresting. the two naval heroes. everybody knows tower hill, but it is not every one we meet with in an omnibus, who can recollect it as it was fifty years ago, when steel kept his shop there, and first published the navy list. however, we cannot stop to speak of him, or his book, nor of the itinerants who were wont to vend their various wares under the trees which shaded the houses in postern-row; nor of the pump, which then, as now, was declared to be a very good pump; nor of the ditch, into which, in that day, many a passenger was tumbled after being robbed and beaten by the thieves and disorderlies--land privateers as they were called, who cruised in the neighbourhood after dark. we do not intend to relate any thing of these, nor of the sundry stout, ill-favoured, savage-looking vagabonds in fearnought coats, who were ever to be found lolling over the row of posts which fenced the eastern side of the hill--the commissioned press-gang, who used to amuse themselves by scrutinizing the passers-by, and now and then by breaking the head of some unfortunate blue-jacket who had incautiously strolled too near their precincts to avoid capture or a fight. we have taken you out of the city, reader, into a district not inhabited by the most honest or well conducted; but we must still bring you through east smithfield into wapping, to a spot a little west of the entrance of the london docks; and hereabouts one richardson kept a slop-shop. early one morning a cheerful-looking hale old man came out of steel's navigation warehouse, leading by the hand a slender stripling of a lad who carried a chart under his arm, and seemed to regard his companion with the respect due to a patron. they took their way along the same track precisely by which we have conducted you, and parted opposite richardson's slop-shop. as the man (_it was porteous, the king's pilot_) shook the lad by the hand, he ejaculated loud enough to be heard half down the street--"mind, high water at a quarter past twelve; i won't wait a minute; be there by twelve!" old richardson was at this moment busied about his accounts, and too intent on his occupation to perceive that anybody had approached his counter, until the lad who had entered the shop drew his attention. he wanted some sea-clothing, and tendered a list of check shirts, duck trousers, &c. the articles were exhibited, examined, and approved; they were to be packed up and sent to the dundee arms by noon. the honest chapman recognized the signature at the foot of the order, and the youth took his departure. there was something in the lad's manners and appearance that would have induced an observation upon the choice he had made of a profession so full of danger and difficulty; and the slopseller was once or twice about to address his young customer on the subject, who however gave him no opportunity of entering upon it. the lad gone, the shopkeeper resumed his employment at his books, and, as he turned over leaf after leaf, accompanied the process with certain verbal remarks which a pen he held between his lips rendered somewhat indistinct; at length, laying down the implement and adjusting his spectacles, he pondered over the contents of the page, and after a pause exclaimed--"ah! i do remember, about the same time in the morning too. let me see--watch-coat--fearnought trousers--pair of boots--sword-belt--he was rather a different looking chap to the lad that came just now; a hard-faced, smart-built, bold dog he was--fine eye; snapped at me as i showed him the things--sent 'em to water-lane, but never got the money! early customers differ otherwise than in looks; this pays, that don't--but it can't be helped; if they are not all--let's see, what's the lads name," (and here he re-examined the order that had just been left with him) "ay--_horatio nelsons_, they are not all _paul joneses_"--and these two widely distinguished heroes, reader, were the customers between whom old richardson drew a comparison[16]. nelson, and the modern navy, and napier, and ship-building, and discipline, and improvement, were the changes rung for some time, until at last somebody adverted to a peculiarity of the jack tar which may be discussed under the title of tar and feathers. [illustration] the sailor must have his joke in defiance of danger and death. when commodore anson took panama in 1742, his men clothed themselves over their jackets and trousers in all the gay apparel they could collect. they did the same at capua under nelson; and the hero, elevated on a cask in the grand square, and surrounded by motley groups of masquerading tars, drank rich wine out of a golden goblet to the toast of "better times to us." in 1805, the brave yeo, then a lieutenant of the loire frigate, with a mere handful of men, stormed the heavy fort of el muros, near finisterre, and carried it at noon-day. having destroyed the fortification and sent off the stores, the seamen arrayed themselves in the immense spanish grenadiers' bear skin caps and accoutrements, and all black and dirty with their labour, rowed off in this state to the ship, to the great amusement of captain maitland and the hearty approval of their shipmates. many other anecdotes of a similar kind might be related; and now it appears, by recent accounts from china, that jack is still pursuing his old game; for it is related that at the destruction of several war-junks in the neighbourhood of canton, the english seamen arrayed themselves in the spoils of the enemy, and figured away in mandarin caps and tunics, and the curly-toed shoes of the chinamen; nor was the essential tail wanted; for many of the bodies were divested of this ornament, which jack being in a "cue" for humour, suspended at his own back, occasionally raising it in a coil, and offering to take a messmate in tow by it. we did not break up our little naval board without mentioning impressment, and a thing called the cat; the word was no sooner out, than it operated like the morning-gun in "the critic," and off went the following:-an a_cat_alectic monody! a _cat_ i sing, of famous memory, though _cat_achrestical my song may be; in a small garden _cat_acomb she lies, and _cat_aclysms fill her comrades' eyes; borne on the air, the _cat_acoustic song swells with her virtues' _cat_alogue along; no _cat_aplasm could lengthen out her years, though mourning friends shed _cat_aracts of tears once loud and strong her _cat_echist-like voice it dwindled to a _cat_call's squeaking noise; most _cat_egorical her virtues shone, by _cat_enation join'd each one to one;- but a vile _cat_chpoll dog, with cruel bite, like _cat_ling's cut, her strength disabled quite; her _cat_erwauling pierced the heavy air, as _cat_aphracts their arms through legions bear; 'tis vain! as _cat_erpillars drag away their lengths, like _cat_tle after busy day, she ling'ring died, nor left in kit _kat_ the embodyment of this _cat_astrophe.--v. d. l. "a play on words," said mr. cavil, (who happened to be our guest on this occasion), "a play on words, sir, is a pretty thing in its way; and i'm perfectly well aware that the public expect you to be jocular (as if there were nothing cheerful in seriousness). i know, too, that it's quite impossible to please everybody. but still, sir--still i think a little gravity now and then, eh?--a little gravity. i don't conceive that you give your attention sufficiently to science. something scientific now--" mr. cavil was not allowed to conclude; we had anticipated his want; we had already turned our thoughts that way, and could fortunately plume ourselves upon the presence of one of the _illustrissimi_ of science, who forthwith illumined our humble vehicle by a transcendent and exclusive report of the third meeting of the bright-ish association for the advancement of everything. _section a.--mathematical and physical science._ _president_--prof. cycloyd. _vice-presidents_--dr. spectrum & major fork. "on an experiment of interference." by inspector jones. the author stated, that one night he had observed a gentleman employed in experimenting upon the tintinnabular powers of bells, as produced by voltaic action communicated through copper wires; the end of the wire being conducted into the open air, and the point defended by a brass knob. feeling interested in the prosecution of this experiment, the author immediately proceeded to the spot to make inquiries into its success; but when within two paces of the experimentalist, he had suddenly received so severe a shock that he was stunned for the moment. when he recovered from its effects, the gentleman was gone. this he particularly regretted, as he much wished to have discovered the power which had produced the shock that prostrated him; but as he had observed another gentleman a short distance behind him, he supposes that he, being an assistant of the experimentalist, was engaged in generating the galvanic fluid, which, passing from him to the one in connexion with the brass knob, (from thence to be communicated to the bell through the wire,) had produced the shock described--the author's body intercepting its flow, and thus being in a state of interference. "a comparison between the results given by rain-gauges and known facts with regard to lachrymatose precipitations." by dr. daw. the object of this paper was, to point out the connexion which exists between the quantities of rain received on horizontal surfaces, at _different heights_ above the ground, and the quantity of lachrymal vapour condensed into tears, also at different heights; and showing that, in both cases, the less the elevation the greater were the quantities. thus, a rain-gauge, four feet from the ground, will intercept less than one on the ground; and a child of _four_ feet high will produce less than one _two_ feet high. "on the expression of unknown quantities." by prof. muddelwitz. a method of expressing unknown quantities by known formulæ has long been a desideratum in mathematical science. this process the author stated he had discovered; for that the fractions of coefficient indices, when used to express the powers of differential equations, are always capable of being solved into pure algebraic roots. thus, if in an infinitesimal series, in which p, o, o2--t--t2 are unknown given quantities, a, a2, and e, known, and the value to be limited, the equation stands as follows:- 1. a x a2 x p o t2 = t, o, e. 2. a x = t o e + a p o t2 3. x = 2[sqrt](a p o t2 + a2 t o e) thus the generalization of the equation of x, to the nth degree, gives its fraction in the form of an algebraic root. [to some readers the above demonstrations may seem rather obscure; but as the late dr. dundertop, in his treatise on the _perspicuous_, clearly explains--"ephpnxmqzomubh grudcnkrl, hqmpt on kronswt."] * * * * * we were all thrown into a state of such intense dumbness, such complete torpor, by the profundity of these scientific researches, that everybody tacitly admitted the appropriateness of the next subject; it was a case of still-life which met our startled eye the other evening, in the form of a pair of rum corks in stout bottles. [illustration] on our table stood, not one, but two "black bottles," two bottles that had held "cork stout"--two we saw without seeing double. the corks had already been drawn, but upon them were two faces distinctly visible, which we resolved to draw likewise; and as the pencil wound itself about, we seemed to hear the following dialogue, in a sort of screw-like tone:-"arrah, paddy now, and where are you from?" "sure i'm from cork." "cork is it? fait den it's from cork i am meself." [illustration] * * * * * "not such terrifying images, sir," said a nervous visitor, who trembled like keeley in the old drama of the _bottle imp_, "not such terrifying images as that family of phantoms, that assemblage of the blues, which you conjured up in your last number. you might well call them "frights." i'm sure i've felt all over like the derbyshire turnpike-man ever since; but i'm not at all afraid of those two bottle conjurors there." the allusion to this mysterious derbyshire pike-man produced inquiry, and we were all forthwith reminded by our agitated companion, of a midnight scene-a highway adventure which was lately recorded in the public papers. it appears that when van amburgh travels, the large elephant goes on foot in the night, attended by four east indians, men of negro complexions, in white dresses,--three of them riding on the elephant's back, and one on his tusks. one night as they were passing over worksop forest, the party arrived at a toll-bar that was closed. the call "gate" was raised, and out came the toll-keeper in his nightcap. now it is suspected that this unfortunate individual had been long anticipating the coming of a gentleman in black, whose name is never mentioned to ears polite; for observing the monstrous and unlooked-for spectacle that then presented itself to his drowsy eyes, he, instead of opening the gate, was so terrified, that he ran back into the house, exclaiming in frantic tones, "_he's come at last!_" [illustration] "frightened at an elephant," cried mr. cavil, with a profusion of pishes! "at an elephant merely! i wonder if he ever saw a young lady--young ladies such as i have seen! i was never afraid of a woman while she wore her hair turned up, powdered, pomatumed, and frizzed like my mother's and grandmother's; but only imagine the terror of a sensitive mortal on encountering a specimen of the fashions of the present day; on meeting a sample of the feminine gender, who, not satisfied with milliner's 'whiskers,' must exhibit to the affrighted gazer a face 'bearded like the pard.' frightened at an elephant! bless his five wits!--if he were only to come to london!" [illustration] footnote: [footnote 16: the reader may use his own judgment as to the chronological accuracy of the foregoing tale. it is a fact that jones and nelson were both equipped by the same person, richardson, and that the king's pilot took horatio down to wapping for that purpose.] some account of the life and times of mrs. sarah toddles! by sam sly. it is customary with the romancists and novelists of the day to track their heroes and heroines to some mysterious origin, for which purpose they either draw them from the foot of the gallows, or the precincts of the palace, and the jail returns are ransacked, and the old court guides dissected, for suitable titles and localities. thus, whilst one will unkennel his favourites from workhouses, and obscure holes and corners, another finds his pet in the queen's best bed-room, or sleeping in state in a golden cradle. it is lucky for us we are not obliged to run to either extreme. sarah toddles' life lies in a nutshell. and here again we cannot help expressing our satisfaction, that we should be more fortunate than those who have to beat about the hedge, and make long speeches, and fill volumes in hazarding and conjecturing respecting nurses and birth-places. there is nothing at all remarkable about the dawning of sarah; it was the most simple, natural, straight-forward, and legitimate birth imaginable: there was neither ringing of bells, nor flourishing of trumpets. mrs. james was the nurse, mrs. sarah gunn the mother, and mr. timothy gunn the father. he was a gingerbread-baker, and lived at bow--mile-end bow--and kept a shop not far from the bridge, and baked "banburys" as well as "parliament" for the fair. over the bow-window of this shop, and a little to the left, sarah first saw daylight, and heard bow bells--not at that interesting moment, because we have already said the elements were quiet. sarah was an only child, the gun never went off but once--at least sarah was the only "living shot." sarah--our sally--was born on the same day as the duke of wellington, but she could not help that. it seemed a little curious, and somewhat presumptuous; and her mother, had she anticipated such a result, would no doubt have avoided giving any offence, by forwarding or retarding the business, but she had no friend at court. and, after all, it is doubtful which is most honoured by the fact, his grace or sarah toddles. but such is the course of things. mrs. gunn was soon off the stocks; she was up and stirring; and sarah, with unheard of rapidity, got out of the nurse's arms, and from pap to pudding, and pudding to pork; and soon found out the use of her eyes and feet, and "toddled" into the shop, and tip-toed to the top of the counter, and fingered the "banburys," and licked the "parliament," and dabbled in the treacle, and painted her face with it, and was shaken and smacked, and all that sort of thing. she became at last "quite a girl," and would run over the bridge, and round the church-yard, and up "mile-end," and down old ford, and through bow fields, and stepney church-yard, and all about, till mrs. gunn was "frightened out of her wits," and determined to send her to school. now bow church was not then as it is at present. in the olden times, or when sarah was young, there was a market held close in front of it, and over this market was a school, and a mr. brown was the master; and here sarah was first led into the mystery of letters, and got through "vyse's new london spelling book," and that's all (for her progress, like her genius and her stature, was small); so after spoiling many copy-books and green bags, and wearing out many pattens in trotting from the shop to the school, she was ultimately relieved from her studies and her troubles by being taken away. this was good news for sarah, "for now she should do as she liked, and have such bits of fun at bow fair, without being bothered to get her lessons in the morning before she went, when half the day was gone; and wouldn't she though have some rare games in stepney church-yard, and look at the tombstones and the fish in the ring! and wouldn't she often go to the world's-end tea-gardens, and to fairlop fair, and epping forest to get blackberries! she just would then." and she just did then; and this was the sunny spot of her life. _now_ her sun may be said to have gradually declined; she was no longer a free agent. she was told to "_think_ and mind what she was about," and was kept at home, and enlisted in domestic services (for her parents had no other housemaid), and also assisted in baking and minding the shop. thus days rolled on; and sarah at last became a woman--not a very tall one it is true, but still a woman--little and good, "short and sweet." sarah was thrice married. her first husband was a mr. lightfoot, her second a mr. heavisides, and her third, and last, mr. toddles--thomas toddles. with the first two we have nothing to do, they were dead and buried before we were thought of, and we never make a point of enlarging about parties where we are not asked to the funeral, but we may merely remark for the benefit of the curious, that sarah toddles chose _them_ for no particular virtue or accomplishment, but merely for their size; they all stood _four feet three_ in their shoes, all were timid men, and all died childless. there was nothing at all wonderful about either of these courtships or weddings, all was "fair and above-board;" no rope ladders, no moonlight madness, no gretna green trips, no bribings, no hole-and-corner works, no skulking behind kitchen doors or tombstones, or winkings or blinkings in church, no lies, no sighs, no dyings for love and that trumpery, nothing of the sort. mr. gunn consented, mrs. gunn consented, sarah consented, and they all consented; could anything be fairer? and what's the use of writing a volume upon it, as many of our contemporaries might? but, perhaps, we may be allowed to say a word or two on mrs. toddles' last engagement, since at his death we were asked to the funeral. as a baker, and doing a great deal of business for the fairs, mr. gunn required assistance, and he found a faithful and honest servant in thomas toddles. mrs. heavisides--our sally--would often be found in the bakehouse helping her father and thomas in "setting sponge," as it is termed, and in moulding and shaping buns and banburys. could anything be more natural than that words and looks should be exchanged on these occasions between her and thomas, bordering upon the weather and the heat of the oven, and that this warmth should produce congenial thoughts and sentiments? it did so; for thomas, though naturally timid, had all the arts or nature of an experienced lover. he would run from buns to banburys, and from banburys to bachelors, and from bachelors to bow bells, and from bow bells to bow church, and from the church to the altar; he would then not forget to talk about rings, "and thought he knew of one just about her size"--here the oven would burn--"and would she allow him to try one." he would then steal a little nearer, and adopt a few innocent liberties, such as flirting a little flour in her face with his thumb and finger, then wipe it off afterwards with the corner of his apron, and, as a climax, "kiss the place to make it well," my toddles! it is not to be wondered at, that these things were a "decided hit," as the managers have it, and that they should have their full effect, by causing bow bells very soon to ring to the honour and happiness of mr. and mrs. toddles. but all that lives must fade, and mrs. toddles' troubles now came thick upon her. first, her mother died, soon after, her father, who bequeathed all his "banburys," goods, and chattels to her and her husband; and within a very few months thomas died also. he was unusually busy one night in preparing for bow fair, where he kept a stall, and over-exerting himself, caught a cold, was taken to bed, slept sweetly, but over-slept himself, and saw sarah toddles no more. soon after, mrs. t. wound up the business, sold off her stock and interest, and purchased a small annuity. in order to fill up her time, and in some measure to obliterate the past, she volunteered her services in one or two tract and dorcas societies, where she assists in the making up of those very small articles which she was once in her longings led to suppose might fill her own baskets. a great deal of absurdity has gone forth at her expense amongst cads and omnibus drivers, who would not wait even five or ten minutes for her, when at the furthest she was never more than a quarter of an hour behind time, and how few know the cause of all this! some have attributed it to an over-solicitude in her toilet, some to this thing and some to that, some to the putting on of those little black stockings, and some to the tying of the velvet shoes; when, if the truth must be known, it is--_mrs. sarah toddles has corns_. some little reminiscence of mr. toddles may be required. in height he was about four feet three. his clothes were much too large for him, coming over his knuckles, and over his shoes, with a skirt nearly touching the ground. moreover he had a monstrous hat, swelling at the crown, very much boated before and behind, a large mouth, and large eyes. it was curious to see this little couple trotting up mile-end road towards whitechapel on a saturday night, he first, and she after, for a cheap market--he carrying a basket and she a bag, which they would fill either from the shops or from the stalls by the roadside; but before returning, take care to call in at the blind beggar for a drop of "summat short," "but strictly medicinally." that very shawl at the back of mrs. toddles, and the large parasol, or small umbrella, were presents from mr. t. one bow-fair day; she keeps them and wears them in respect to his memory, and will continue to do so through all the changes of fashion. those stockings were knitted by miss toddles, and those velvet shoes made by timothy toddles, her dear husband's brother and sister; in short, she is enveloped and surrounded with gifts from top to toe. the arm-chair was a relic of her mother's, the footstool was her father's, the bottle lightfoot's, and the glass heavisides', and the table toddles', her last dear toddles; the carpet was her cousin's, and the urn her uncle's. but time, like sarah, is toddling on; let us hope that she may meet with more civility, and that her end may be peaceful. if we are invited to the funeral, we shall look after her epitaph. *** _we beg to state, that though assured of the great respectability of our correspondent, we do not personalty vouch for the authenticity of this memoir_.-ed. [illustration: george cruikshank. breaking into the strong room in the "jewel tower" and removal of the regalia, on the night of the fire, oct'r. 30. 1841 london tilt & bogue 86 fleet street.] the fire at the tower of london. the scene in the jewel tower--the armoury--the bowyer tower--lady jane grey's apartment--the trophies. [illustration: _the black portion of the plan shows the part which is burnt._ a bowyer tower. b brick tower. c small armoury. d map office. e white tower. f horse armoury. g powder magazine. h ordnance office. i bloody tower. k governor's lodgings. l st. peter's church. m jewel tower. ] the queen's loving subjects are divided into two parties--those who have, and those who have not, visited the tower. the former have their recollections of the visit--the latter have their regrets for its postponement. and let this be a lesson to all procrastinative sight-seers, to see things while they are to be seen; for the great--or, as it was somewhat oddly designated--the small armoury, is no longer among the visibles or the visitables. association first conducts us to the _jewel house_, the scene of col. blood's and of mr. swifte's doings. it is curious, that after 170 years the burglary (we were near saying the treason) should be repeated; and that blood, the crown-stealer, should have been succeeded by swifte, the crown-keeper. the soldier was favoured by king charles, the civilian by queen victoria--the merry master pardoned, the august mistress approved. the stealer was rewarded with a pension, the keeper's recompense is--to come. having the benefit of mr. swifte's acquaintance, we were indulged with a view of the jewel-room. it is really a curious contrast! light, security, and splendour, changed into darkness, desolation, and vacancy--the regal treasury become an empty sepulchre! the tokens and the instruments of the violence used--broken railings, hatchets, and crow-bars--scattered about, as if "the gallant colonel" had but just absconded! it was a comfort to think that the imperial crown, instead of being battered to bits in his bag, was safe and whole in the governor's cellar. we have endeavoured, in our plate, to give light and life to the jewel-room, now so desolate. not the light of six argands, flashing down on diadem and sceptre, and--brightest of all--on the crown of our liege lady's yet brighter brow, irradiating the matchless sapphire, blue as an italian sky--the mound of diamonds, numerous as its stars--and the priceless ruby of edward and of henry, multiplying their thousand prisms:--but, alas! the blink of one or two ten-to-the-pound tallows--sheepish-looking members of the "kitchiner" tribe--glimmering on them, ghastly as dead men's eyes out of a plundered coffin. and for the _life_ of the scene? there stood the keeper himself, his wife at his side, partaking the peril; and the warders, whom he had summoned to the rescue. we cannot, however, portray the stifling heat and smoke; the clamour of the soldiers outside the closed portal, which the fires of the armoury were striving to reach; nor the roar of the still-excluded flames, the clang of the pumps, the hissing of the water-pipes, the gathering feet and voices of the multitude. these are beyond the pencil. "the pressure from without" increased. again the clamour rose high, and the furnace heat rose higher. but the keeper abided his time--the crow-bars were raised in a dozen hands awaiting his word. it was given! the first blow since the days of king charles descended on the iron fence; and queen victoria's crown, safely deposited in its case, and sheltered therein from smoke and flame and the common gaze, was removed to the governor's house. orbs, diadems, and sceptres--dishes, flagons, and chalices--the services of court and of church, of altar and of banquet, were sent forth in the care of many a sturdy warder, gallant john lund being their leader. the huge baptismal font, soon to be called into use for the prince of wales, was last removed. the jewel-room was as bare as if blood the first had left nought behind him for blood the second. how must the spectators have gazed on the bright procession, as from window, and roof, and turret, the armoury blazed out upon it! and how must the colonel's ghost have wondered to behold his own meditated prey borne through that fiery midnight! the jewel-room was now emptied. the agents of its _emptification_ quitted the peril--glad enough were they, we'll be sworn--and all was again solitude and silence. the armoury, with its three burning floors, each 345 feet in length--their trophies of past, and provisions of future victory, wrapped in one flame, and flanked at either end by the chapel and the crown jewel house--(church and state in equal danger!)--deserve our description. that memorable night--so memorable, that, as the keeper's ancestor, dean swift, says of o'rourke's feast, it will be remembered "by those who were there, and those who were not," is described in two words, fusion and confusion. they tell their story. * * * * * next in sublimity to the spectacle of the blazing pile, was the scene afterwards presented, when, as the fire lessened, and the smoke cleared off, the whole space within the walls of the enormous armoury was opened to the straining eye--a sight of awe and wonder. above was the "sky" of a november morn; and below, covering the immense sweep of the floor, heaps of fused metal, of dimensions scarcely to be credited, with bayonet-points bristling up everywhere, close-set and countless, like long blades of grass. innumerable as the stand of small-arms had appeared, they now seemed, starting from the crushed mass, still more multitudinous; the space appeared larger; the scene of destruction more gigantic; and we thought of the moralizing fox walking beside the tree which had been thrown down by a tempest:--"this is truly a noble tree; i never thought it so great while standing." after a day or two there was something ridiculous blended with the terror of the spectacle. the waterloo guns uninjured--(those guns which had played upon the guards at waterloo with shot, and which the guards in return had played upon with water in _loo_ of shot)--the enormous pieces of artillery; the mighty anchor; the myriad bayonet-points; the masses of metal, dull or shining; the broken columns; the smouldering rubbish; were strangely contrasted with the forms of gaily-attired ladies, courageously clambering over hot heaps, creeping through apparently unapproachable avenues, and raking among the ashes for relics--gun-flints, green, blue, or white, and picturesque bits of metal. outside this building, in various directions, the most terrific visible symptom of the intense burning that had made night hideous, were the streams of molten lead from surrounding roofs; the liquid metal, as it fell upon the flagstones, having splashed up and sprinkled the walls to the height of two or three feet. [illustration: bowyer or clarence tower.] * * * * * _order_ has at length succeeded to the confusion, and _orders_ on a large scale have followed the fusion. the armoury will be rebuilt and refurnished. the edifice, it is to be hoped, will be more in harmony with the antique character of the surrounding scene, and the new arms not less susceptible of beautiful arrangement for being better adapted to practical uses than the old. thus far the nation will gain by its misfortune; nor will the loss, even in a pecuniary sense, be equal to a fourth of the first estimate. every evil has been exaggerated--except the danger. that scarcely admitted of exaggeration. [illustration: entrance to the small armoury--camperdown anchor, waterloo guns, &c.] our fellow antiquaries, and not less (though for other reasons) our country-cousins everywhere, will join with us, not in lamenting the loss, but in rejoicing at the escape. the plan which heads this article, will enable them to understand it. of the antiquities of the tower, little or nothing has suffered. all that has stood for centuries, in fact, still stands there. that of which the memory is imperishable has not perished. the buildings which are destroyed, are--the armoury, which was modern; the upper part of the bowyer or clarence tower, which was also modern. the antique remains are figured on the preceding page. this tower was three stories high. the large square window below, next the ladder, is that of the chamber in which clarence is supposed to have been murdered. in the apartment immediately over this the fire commenced. above the belt, in the centre, all was modern. it will be seen by the plan that this tower is exactly in the centre of the small armoury, at the back. the brick tower is of considerable antiquity, and the interior of this has been wofully damaged, so that the apartment in which the gentle lady jane grey was confined, wears now a more forlorn and ruinous aspect than the slow hand of time would have invested it with in additional centuries. still, even here, what is gone is but the wood-work, the outward coating, the modern accessories or accumulations of the scene; the destroyer has neither eaten through the old walls, nor undermined the deep and enduring foundations of any portion of the old fortress. as for the trophies that are gone, they are things which this nation, more perhaps than any other, can afford to surrender without a sigh. if "britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along her steep," neither does she need tokens of her triumphant march over the mountain-wave in days gone by. besides, as schoolboys say of birds'-eggs taken prisoners, or apples captured in orchards, "there's plenty more where these came from." it would have been something, to be sure, to have saved from the consumer a thing so simple as the old wheel of the "victory;" because it was no part of the vulgar spoil of war, no commonplace implement of devastation wrested from an enemy, but a precious relic associated with the dying-hour of england's favourite hero, and a symbol, in its very form, of the eternity of his fame. it is gone; but the list of losses is not half so long as fear made it; and among the trophies yet remaining, are numbers as indestructible as the great anchor taken at camperdown, which, the day after the fire, was seen rearing its giant bulk amidst the multitude of bristling points, and masses of fused metal. [illustration: lady jane grey's room in the brick tower.] the blazing armoury--the ramparts--a contrast. the lamps of the city burn dull and dead, the wintry raindrops fall, and thick mists, borne from the river's bed, round london's hoary tower are spread, o'erhanging, like a pall. when, suddenly--look! a red light creeps up from the tower on high! one shriek of "fire!"--and lo! it sweeps through yon vast armoury. up, up it springs, on giant wings, that still expand and soar; can you not hear, through outcries loud, the beaten drum, and the tramp of the crowd, the mighty furnace roar! then trophy, and relic, and ancient spoil, one molten mass went down, and ruin had stretch'd his red hand out to seize the sacred crown. and faces, that else were white with fear, gleam'd in the woful light; while perils that distant seem'd, drew near, and ghastlier grew the night. dread rumour, outstripping the winged flame, still spoke of powder stored, ere deep in the moat 'twas safely roll'd, sparing the walls of that white tower old, rich memory's darkest hoard. and all the while the threaten'd pile rang with a mingled roar, and hurried feet in danger meet, and dread struck more and more. yet all night there, within the bound of that fortress black and stern, the appointed guard went stilly round, and on the customary ground the soldier took his turn. high overhead the lurid blaze afar in fright was seen, yet there, unmoved, the sentry paced each time-worn tower between. just o'er him broke the flash and smoke, around was wild uproar; but there he trod, as there had trod his fellow the night before. amidst the deep terrific swell by myriad noises made, an echo from the ramparts fell- the measured tread of the sentinel in solitude and shade. and to and fro, from hour to hour, his deep slow step was heard, nor could the firemen there have pass'd without the secret word. thus, silent 'midst a tumult wild; thus, lonely 'midst a throng; thus, bent his usual watch to keep, as though the fortress were asleep, shadow'd in drear and dead midnight, yet neighbour'd by that living light, the sentry paced along! l. b. miss adelaide kemble. the month "in which englishmen hang and drown themselves," has this year been signalised by first appearances;--the heir-apparent, heaven bless him! having chosen to arrive in the midst of the bell-ringing and jollity of lord mayor's day. though a less glorious, scarcely a less welcome one--to all play-goers, artists, honest subjects "moved by concord of sweet sounds," and poets clinging to recollections of departed genius--has been the entrance of "norma" at covent garden. the artist has well caught her attitude on that evening as she advanced to take her place before her altar: as yet silent. we cannot keep pace with him, or write down a twentieth of the cheers of welcome that burst from heart and hand. rarely have plaudits been so well merited! what the druidess may or may not do for the musical drama in england, let her own oracles expound. we are not prophets, but recorders; and while she is taking care for the future, we have but to say a word or two touching the past career of miss adelaide kemble. as to the date of her birth-day, that concerns not us. we are reserved when ladies are in the case; and are contented to remind the public that she is the younger daughter of mr. charles kemble--that, to the dramatic heritage derived from him, she adds a right to the musician's gift, being child of one who, some years since, made the name of de camp famous, as belonging to one of the most fascinating stage-singers of the time. every circumstance, therefore, of position and education combined to develop the talents which nature had given her. the air she breathed was a stimulus to perpetuate the most classical traditions of music and the drama. to this was added consciousness of the honourable position always maintained by her family, and their liberal general cultivation--exciting her to do her part also, and to become, not merely a voice--not merely a _gesture_ personified, but an artist: that is, a gifted intelligence, to whom voice and gesture serve but as means of expressing its "fancies chaste and noble," and its elevated conceptions. miss kemble has trained herself for her profession, with that thorough-going industry and ardour, without which there are no siddonses, no pastas, no malibrans. like the second distinguished woman named, her voice, though amply sufficient for every theatrical purpose, may not originally have been a _willing_ one. nothing, strange to say, has been so fatal to the attainment of the highest musical excellence, as too great a facility and richness of organ. by it catalani was led astray--by it sundry contemporary warblers----but "comparisons are odious." we are discreet as well as reserved. enough, that, under signor bordogni of paris, miss kemble went through all that severe course of study, to which too few of her countrywomen will subject themselves. she was first heard in london in 1835, where she sang at a few concerts. though then weighed down by a consciousness of power, with means as yet inadequate for its utterance, though restrained by an excess of timidity, it was even then to be seen that a great dramatic artist was there. we remember two words from the great duet in "semiramide," which we heard her sing with tamburini--merely an exulting "_o gioja_!"--but they said enough to make us sure of what would come. at the end of that season, after appearing at the york festival, miss kemble was heard of no more in england. but ere long, rumours came from germany of an english lady turning wise heads by her dramatic truth and energy of feeling; and late in the autumn of the year 1838, we were told that another of the kembles had entered her proper arena, the stage--at no less distinguished a place than the teatro della scala, milan. [illustration: adelaide kemble _in the character of_ norma. london. tilt & bogue, 86, fleet street.] from that time, in spite of lets and hindrances innumerable, which too generally beset the english gentlewoman undertaking a foreign artistic career, miss kemble has slowly and steadily advanced towards her present high position. at venice she was applauded to the echo for her execution of pasta's grand _cavatina_ in "_niobe_,"--at mantua made a _furore_, as an actress who was "_simpatica_" (there is a good deal in the word, as all italians know); later still at the teatro san carlo, naples, rising to such a height of popularity, that upon her contracting an engagement for palermo, barbaja, "_le bourru bienfaisant_" broke the contract, and paid the forfeit to retain her. her chief parts have been in the operas of "_lucia di lammermoor_," "_norma_," "_elena da feltre_," "_gemma di vergy_," "_la sonnambula_," and "_beatrice di tenda_." but lest the english fancy that their favourite is but a _signora_ in disguise, be it known to them that the subject of our notice is as fine a linguist in music as the most universal of her contemporaries. we have heard her applauded to the echo by the rhinelanders for her singing of schubert and beethoven:--we believe that she possesses a _cahier_ of french romances, which she can _say_ as well as sing, with _finesse_ enough to charm the fastidious ears of the panserons and adams who compose such dainty ware; and we know that she can do worthy homage--to handel. the oratorio-goers may look for _the_ miriam in her, and will not be disappointed. what more remains?--save to record, that after having made her mature talent heard at the never-to-be-forgotten polish _matinée_ at stafford house, and at a private concert, miss kemble made a second german journey this autumn, as we said, to the infinite delight of the rhinelanders, who are not easy to please;--and lastly, to give the second of this month as the date of her commencing a career among her own countrymen, which, for art's sake, as well as her own, we fervently hope will be as long as it _must_ be brilliant. r. o. d. what more remains? by way of postscript to our dull prose, the world will, we think, be glad of half-a-dozen verses from a most accomplished pen (we would not for the world reveal its owner!) dropped by mistake in an _omnibus_, on the morning after miss kemble's first appearance. 'twas not pasta--'twas not e'en thy greater name, that in charms of voice and mien to fancy came- as thy wild impassioned lays enthralled our ears, and the eyes that fain would gaze were blind with tears! whence the ray, that could impart each subtle trace that defines the mother's heart, the matron's grace? whence the throes of jealousy that struggling rise, big with mimic agony to those young eyes? love and joy, thy gentle brow in turn caressing; hate, with scorn or vengeance, now its lines possessing: on the classic pedestal achieved by thee, firm, and never failing, shall thy footing be! and the brightness that will still thy name enshrine, take thou as the boon of god to thee and thine! jack gay, abroad and at home. by laman blanchard. who that had once met jack gay at dinner, where'er the feast of venison and the flow of port prevailed, ever forgot him! what lady, the luckiest of her sex, ever experienced his "delicate attentions" at a quiet evening party, a quiet concert, or a quiet dance, without speaking of him from that moment, not as the most charming of acquaintances, but as a very old friend--without feeling quite sure that she had known him all her life, though she had never seen him but that once? what spirits he had! other men had their jovial moods, but jack was always jovial. to be lively by fits and starts, to be delightful when the humour sets in, to emulate the fair exquisite of pope, "and make a lover happy--_for a whim_--" is within anybody's reach. but jack had no fits and starts; the humour flowed in one unebbing course, and his whim consisted in making everybody as happy as he was at all seasons. his joviality never depended upon the excellence of a dinner, the choice of wines, or any accident of the hour. his high spirits and invariable urbanity were wholly independent of the arrangements of the table, the selection of the guests, and the topics of conversation. he discovered pleasant things to hearken to, and found delightful themes to chat upon, even during the dreary twenty minutes before dinner. yes, even _that_ was a lively time to jack. whenever he went out it was to enjoy a pleasant evening, and he enjoyed it. the fish was spoil'd, the soup was cold, the meat was broil'd, the jokes were old, the tarts were dumps, the wine not cool, the guests were pumps, the host a fool-but for all this jack cared about as much as a flying-fish cares for a shower of rain. no combination of ill omens and perverse accidents ever proved a damper to him. he is invited to meet (say) johnson and burke, and is greeted, on his entrance, with the well-known tidings that johnson and burke "couldn't come." does jack heave one sigh in compliment to the illustrious absentees, and in depreciation of the company who _have_ assembled? not he. no momentary shade of disappointment dims his smiling face. he seems as delighted to meet the little parlour-full of dull people, as though the room were crammed with crichtons. he has the honour of being presented to little miss somebody, from the country, who seems shy; and he takes the same pains to show his pleasure in the introduction, and to tempt the timid stranger to talk, that he would have exerted in an effort to interest mrs. siddons. he sits next to a solemn ignoramus, who is facetious in expounding the humours of squire bog, his neighbour, or didactic in developing the character of dogsby the great patriot in his parish; and jack listens as complacently as though his ear were being regaled with new-born bonmots of sheridan's, or anecdotes of the earl of chatham. jack, like some statesmen, was born to be out; and to him, as to some other statesmen, all parties were the same. the only preference he ever seemed to entertain was for the particular party that chanced at the particular moment to rejoice in his presence. he enjoyed everything that happened. leigh hunt, describing a servant-maid "at the play," observes, that every occurrence of the evening adds to her felicity--for she likes even the waiting between the acts, which is tiresome to others. so with jack at a party. he enjoyed some dislocated experiments on the harp, by an astonishing child, aged only fifteen; and was the sole person in the room who encored with _sincerity_ that little prodigy's convulsive edition of "bid me discourse." he listened with laudable gravity to master henry's recitation of "rolla's address," and suggested the passages in which john kemble was rather too closely followed. he enjoyed the glasses of warm wine handed round between the songs; he liked the long flat pauses, "when nobody said nothing to his neighbour;" and he liked the sudden burst of gabble in which, at the termination of the pause, as if by preconcerted agreement, every creature eagerly joined. he liked the persons he had never met before, and those whom he was in the habit of meeting just seven times a week. he admired the piano that was always out of tune, and the lady who, kindly consenting to play, was always out of temper. he thought the persons to whom he had not been introduced very agreeable, and all the rest extremely entertaining. he was delighted with his evening, whether it exploded in a grand supper, or went-off, flash-in-the-pan fashion, with a sandwich. he never bottled up his best things, to uncork them in a more brilliant company the next night; he was never dull because he was expected to shine, and never, by laborious efforts to shine, succeeded in showing that dulness was his forte. he pleased everybody because he was pleased himself; and he was himself pleased, because he could not help it. many queer-looking young men sang better, but nobody sang with such promptness and good taste; many awkward gawkies danced with more exactness and care, but nobody danced so easily to himself or so acceptably to his partner; many handsome dashing fellows were more showy and imposing in their manners, but none produced the agreeable effect that followed a few words of his, or one of his joyous laughs--nay even a kind and sprightly glance. the elaborate, and long meditated impromptu of the reputed wit fell still-born, while one of jack's unstudied gay-hearted sallies burst like a rocket, and showered sparkles over the room. everybody went away convinced that there was one human being in the world whose oasis of life had no surrounding desert. jack lived but for enjoyment. the links of the chain that bound him to existence, were of pure gold--there was no rough iron clanking between. he seemed sent into the world to show how many may be amused, cheered, comforted, by one light heart. that heart appeared to tell him, that where his fellow-creatures were, it was impossible to be dull; and the spirit of this assurance prevailed in all he said and did; for if he staid till the last half dozen dropped off, he was just as fresh and jocund as when the evening began. he never knew what it was to be tired, and as the hospitable door was at last closed upon him, you heard him go laughing away down the steps. upon his tomb indeed might be written a paraphrase of the epitaph so gloriously earned by his illustrious namesake:- so that the merry and the wise might say, pressing their jolly bosoms, "here _laughs_ gay!" but did anybody, who may happen to see this page, ever see the aforesaid jack at home?--at high-noon, or in the evening when _preparing to go out_! behold him on the eve of departure--just going--about to plunge, at the appointed moment, into the revelries of a brilliant circle, where, if he were not, a score of sweet voices would fall to murmuring "i wish he were here!" for the admiration, the envy, the cordial liking which surely await him there, you would now be apt to substitute commiseration, regret--a bit of friendly advice to him to stop at home, and a pull at the bell for pen-and-ink that he might write an excuse. the truth is, that jack was a morbid, irresolute, wayward, cross-grained chap. he was kind-hearted in the main, and even generous; but his temper was often sullen, and his spirit often cynical. catch him on a winter's afternoon, half an hour before he dressed for dinner! you would think him twenty years older, and five bottle-noses uglier. you would conclude that he was going to dine with diogenes in his tub, or to become a partaker of a skeleton-feast in surgeons'-hall. the last time we ever saw jack out of company, he was in such a mood as we have hinted at. it was a november afternoon between five and six--there was no light in the room--but by the melancholy gleam of a low fire, he was to be seen seated on a music-stool with his feet on the fender, his elbows on his knees, his head resting upon his hands, and his eyes listlessly wandering over the dull coals in search of the picturesque. "come in!" growled the voice of the charmer. "can you grope your way? dreary rooms these--and lights make 'em worse." then without moving his seat to give us a share of the fire, he applied the poker to the cinders, not to kindle a blaze and throw a light upon the gloom, but evidently to put out any little stray flame that might happen to be lingering there. there was just light enough to show that his face wore an air of profound sadness and despondency. to a serious inquiry as to the cause--if any thing had happened. "yes," murmured the fascinator, with an amiable scowl, "the weather has happened, november has happened, and dinner will happen in another hour. here's a night to go three miles for a slice of saddle o' mutton! my luck! cold and wet, isn't it?" continued the irresistible, knocking cinder after cinder into the ashes; "i'm miserable enough at home, and so forsooth, i must dress and go out. ugh! this is what they call having a pleasant life of it. i don't know what you may think, but i look upon an invitation to dinner as nothing less than an insult. why should i be dragged out of my wretched nook here, without an appetite, and against my will? we call this a free country, where nobody's allowed to be miserable in his own way--where every man's a slave to ceremony--a victim to his own politeness, a martyr to civil notes. here's my saddle o' mutton acquaintance, for example; i never hurt or offended the man in all my days, and yet i must go and dine with him. i'd rather go to a funeral.--well if you've anything to say, out with it--for my hour's come. now mind, before i ring this bell, i predict that there's no hot water, and that my boots are damp." the difference between jack at six, and jack at seven, was the difference between a clock down and a clock wound up--between a bird in the shell, and a bird on the wing--between a bowl of punch before, and after, the spirit is poured in,--it was the difference between philip drunk and philip sober (or the reverse if you will)--between a lord mayor in his plain blue-coat and kerseys, and a lord mayor in his state robes;--between grimaldi at the side-scene waiting to go on, with that most melancholy shadow on his face which tradition has so touchingly painted, and grimaldi on the stage, in view of the convulsed spectators, the illuminator of congregated dulness, the instantaneous disperser of the blues, the explorer of every crevice of the heart wherein care can lurk--an embodied grin. it was the difference, to speak more exactly still, between sappho at her toilet, and sappho at an evening mask. to see jack when just beginning to prepare for a drop-in somewhere, late at night--between ten and twelve--was almost as good as seeing him when arrived there. the rash promise made, he always contrived to fulfil it--though it was often ten chances to one that he did not, and he appeared to keep his engagements by miracle. as the hour drew nigh, you would imagine that he had just received tidings of the dreadful loss of several relatives per railroad, or that half his income had been swallowed up in a mine, or forged exchequer-bills. it would be impossible to conjecture that his shrugs and sighs, peevish gestures and muttered execrations, were but the dark shadows of a brilliant "coming event"--that discontent and mortification were the forerunners of the gay hours, and that bitter moroseness, limping and growling, announced the approach of the dancing pleasures! so it was; for jack at that moment, instead of hailing these dancing pleasures by anticipation, and meeting them at least half-way, would gladly have ridden ten miles in any other direction. he could make himself tolerably comfortable anywhere, save at the place to which he was ruthlessly, imperiously bound--with anybody, save with the people who were anxiously waiting for a glimpse of his good-humoured visage. he was fully bent on going, in fact he felt that he must; yet he raised every obstacle that ill-temper could invent, knowing all the while that he should be obliged to surmount them. he would even allow his reluctance to stir, to prevail so far over the gentlemanly principle of his nature, as to question secretly within himself whether he _ought_ to go, while he entertained a suspicion that the people who had again invited him were not _quite_ prudent in giving so many expensive parties! he would catch hold of any rag of an acquaintance just then, to cover his loneliness, and to save him from utter solitude; to give him an excuse for procrastinating, and an opportunity of grumbling out his regrets at stripping from head to foot, not to go to bed, but to go _out_; at being doomed to shake off his quiet moping mood, and plunge head-foremost into festivity. and then, when the effort had been made, when the last obstacle had been overcome, when he was arrayed from top to toe, and could no longer complain of this thing not in readiness, and that thing mislaid, or the glove that split in drawing it on, or the cab that was not (_and never was_) on the stand when he wanted one, he would ask himself with a deep-drawn sigh the melancholy question: "isn't it hard that a man _must_ go out, with a broken heart, to take an hour or two's jollification at this time of night!" off went jack gay; and until four in the morning the merry hours lagged far behind his joyous spirits. hospitality put on his magic boots to run a race with him, and the bewitching eyes of pleasure herself looked grave and sleepy compared with the glistening orbs of her votary! the king of brentford's testament. by michael angelo titmarsh. the noble king of brentford was old and very sick; he summoned his physicians to wait upon him quick; they stepped into their coaches, and brought their best physick. they crammed their gracious master with potion and with pill; they drenched him and they bled him: they could not cure his ill. "go fetch," says he, "my lawyer, i'd better make my will." the monarch's royal mandate the lawyer did obey; the thought of six-and-eightpence did make his heart full gay. "what is't," says he, "your majesty would wish of me to-day?" "the doctors have belaboured me with potion and with pill; my hours of life are counted, o man of tape and quill! sit down and mend a pen or two, i want to make my will. "o'er all the land of brentford i'm lord, and eke of kew; i've three per cents., and five per cents.; my debts are but a few; and to inherit after me i have but children two. "prince thomas is my eldest son, a sober prince is he, and from the day we breeched him till now he's twenty-three, he never caused disquiet to his poor mama or me. "at school they never flogged him, at college, though not fast, yet his little go and great go he creditably passed, and made his year's allowance for eighteen months to last. "he never owed a shilling, went never drunk to bed; he has not two ideas within his honest head;- in all respects he differs from my second son, prince ned. "when tom has half his income laid by at the year's end, poor ned has ne'er a stiver that rightly he may spend; but spunges on a tradesman, or borrows from a friend. "while tom his legal studies most soberly pursues, poor ned must pass his mornings a-dawdling with the muse; while tom frequents his banker, young ned frequents the jews. "ned drives about in buggies, tom sometimes takes a 'bus; ah! cruel fate, why made you my children differ thus? why make of tom a _dullard_, and ned a _genius_?" "you'll cut him with a shilling," exclaimed the man of writs;- "i'll leave my wealth," said brentford, "sir lawyer, as befits; and portion both their fortunes unto their several wits." "your grace knows best," the lawyer said, "on your commands i wait." "be silent, sir," says brentford, "a plague upon your prate! come, take your pens and paper, and write as i dictate." the will as brentford spoke it was writ, and signed, and closed; he bade the lawyer leave him, and turned him round and dozed; and next week in the churchyard the good old king reposed. tom, dressed in crape and hat-band, of mourners was the chief; in bitter self-upbraidings poor edward showed his grief; tom hid his fat white countenance in his pocket-handkerchief. ned's eyes were full of weeping, he faltered in his walk; tom never shed a tear, but onwards he did stalk, as pompous, black, and solemn, as any catafalque. and when the bones of brentford, that gentle king and just, with bell, and book, and candle, were duly laid in dust, "now, gentlemen," says thomas, "let business be discussed. "when late our sire beloved was taken deadly ill, sir lawyer, you attended him (i mean to tax your bill); and as you signed and wrote it, i pr'ythee read the will." the lawyer wiped his spectacles, and drew the parchment out; and all the brentford family sate eager round about. poor ned was somewhat anxious, but tom had ne'er a doubt. "my son, as i make ready to seek my last long home, some cares i feel for neddy, but none for thee, my tom; sobriety and order you ne'er departed from. "ned hath a brilliant genius, and thou a plodding brain; on thee i think with pleasure, on him with doubt and pain." "you see, good ned," says thomas, "what he thought about us twain." "tho' small was your allowance, you saved a little store, and those who save a little shall get a plenty more;" as the lawyer read this compliment, tom's eyes were running o'er. "the tortoise and the hare, tom, set out at each his pace; the hare it was the fleeter, the tortoise won the race; and since the world's beginning this ever was the case. "ned's genius, blithe and singing, steps gaily o'er the ground; as steadily you trudge it, he clears it with a bound; but dulness has stout legs, tom, and wind that's wondrous sound. "o'er fruits and flowers alike, tom, you pass with plodding feet; you heed not one nor t'other, but onwards go your beat: while genius stops to loiter with all that he may meet; "and ever as he wanders will have a pretext fine for sleeping in the morning, or loitering to dine, or dozing in the shade, or basking in the shine. "your little steady eyes, tom, though not so bright as those that restless round about him your flashing genius throws, are excellently suited to look before your nose. "thank heaven then for the blinkers it placed before your eyes; the stupidest are steadiest, the witty are not wise; o bless your good stupidity, it is your dearest prize! "and though my lands are wide, and plenty is my gold, still better gifts from nature, my thomas, do you hold- a brain that's thick and heavy, a heart that's dull and cold- "too dull to feel depression, too hard to heed distress, too cold to yield to passion, or silly tenderness. march on; your road is open to wealth, tom, and success. "ned sinneth in extravagance, and you in greedy lust." ("i'faith," says ned, "our father is less polite than just.") "in you, son tom, i've confidence, but ned i cannot trust. "wherefore my lease and copyholds, my lands and tenements, my parks, my farms, and orchards, my houses and my rents; my dutch stock and my spanish stock, my five and three per cents.; "i leave to you, my thomas." ("what, all?" poor edward said; "well, well, i should have spent them, and tom's a prudent head.") "i leave to you, my thomas- to you, in trust for ned." the wrath and consternation what poet e'er could trace, that at this fatal passage came o'er prince tom his face; the wonder of the company, and honest ned's amaze! "'tis surely some mistake," good-naturedly cries ned; the lawyer answered gravely, "'tis even as i said; 'twas thus his gracious majesty ordained on his death-bed. "see here, the will is witnessed, here's his autograph." "in truth our father's writing," says edward with a laugh; "but thou shalt not be a loser, tom, we'll share it half-and-half." "alas! my kind young gentleman, this sharing may not be; 'tis written in the testament that brentford spoke to me: 'i do forbid prince ned to give prince tom a halfpenny. "'he hath a store of money, but ne'er was known to lend it; he never helped his brother, the poor he ne'er befriended; he hath no need of property who knows not how to spend it. "'poor edward knows but how to spend, and thrifty tom to hoard; let thomas be the steward then, and edward be the lord; and as the honest labourer is worthy his reward, "'i pray prince ned, my second son, and my successor dear, to pay to his intendant five hundred pounds a-year; and to think of his old father, and live and make good cheer." such was old brentford's honest testament. he did devise his moneys for the best, and lies in brentford church in peaceful rest. prince edward lived, and money made and spent; but his good sire was wrong, it is confessed, to say his son, young thomas, never lent. he did; young thomas lent at interest, and nobly took his twenty-five per cent. long time the famous reign of ned endured o'er chiswick, fulham, brentford, putney, kew; but of extravagance he ne'er was cured. and when both died, as mortal men will do, 'twas commonly reported that the steward was a deuced deal the richer of the two. frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter ix. when lawyer brady was first taken into custody he seemed to treat the matter very lightly, for he relied greatly on his own sagacity in keeping his schemes from the knowledge of all except immediate confidants, who would, he trusted, render him every assistance for the purpose of dragging him through the difficulties in which he found himself involved. amongst the most prominent of these was mr. acteon shaft, to whom he promptly communicated his situation; but as no one was allowed to have a private interview with the prisoner, previously to his examination, mr. shaft forbore visiting him till after his committal for trial to cold bath fields prison--at that time called the bastille by the disaffected. he found brady utterly subdued by the weight of evidence which had been brought against him, and wholly at a loss to account for the accuracy by which it had been got up. the cunning of the lawyer had been completely foiled, and frank's inauspicious appearance and testimony had almost overwhelmed him, whilst the dependence he had placed on old associates met with the disappointment which generally follows the unseemly combinations of disreputable characters,--he found himself abandoned by nearly all his former parasites and admirers, with the additional mortification of suspecting that some amongst them had been the medium through which his proceedings had been betrayed. in this frame of mind it cannot be expected that he was very communicative--in fact, he knew not on whom to fix; shaft himself might be the individual who had given the information, and therefore he felt that it behoved him to exercise caution: their interview, consequently, was of short duration, and terminated abruptly, both apparently weary of the other. to the clear view of the lawyer there seemed to be but one chance for his life, and that was escape from prison. shipkins still adhered to his master, and was the supposed channel of correspondence between the latter and an eminent barrister, who, it was alleged, had undertaken brady's cause, but for the present remained in the background. it is true that the clerk was suspected, and a watch was set upon them when together; but their conversation was generally carried on in too low a tone to be distinctly overheard or understood, though not unfrequently their gestures manifested warm disputes, if not downright quarrels, and muttered threats and menaces were exchanged, which usually terminated in earnest appeals from the master, and the seeming acquiescence of the clerk. the apartment[17] occupied by brady was one of those appropriated to state prisoners--and the lawyer was well acquainted with its locality, having frequently visited this particular part, to hold consultations with his clients, who were confined for political offences. its dimensions were about twelve feet by eight; but one corner was occupied by the fire-place so as to face the opposite angle of the room, and as many indulgences were allowed by the authorities, and others were procured by the aid and connivance of turnkeys, there was an air of comfort about it which was rendered more striking by comparison with other parts of the building. there were two strongly-grated windows facing the north, and as the room was thirty feet from the ground it commanded a distant view of highgate and the neighbouring upland, whilst the adjacent grounds--now nearly covered with houses--were at that time open fields. in his visits shipkins had contrived to furnish brady with extremely sharp files, and the latter occupied himself, during several nights, in cutting through the bars of one of the windows, which after nearly a fortnight's labour he successfully effected, and from his general demeanour during the day no suspicion was excited. on the night which he had fixed for his escape, he was locked up at the usual hour, and anxiously did he await the time he had appointed with shipkins to make the trial. brady was not deficient in courage; but when he heard the deep sonorous and lengthened tones of st. paul's clock, as they came swelling on the breeze, a sickening sensation crept over him. watt had recently been executed at edinburgh for treason, under somewhat similar charges as those brought against brady, but not of so aggravated a nature. the lawyer was aware of this, and being a clever man in his profession, he knew his case to be so glaring, that he could expect nothing but conviction, without a shadow of mercy. his present attempt, therefore, was for the preservation of his existence, and every stroke of the cathedral clock was to him as a death-knell, to warn him of his future fate, should his endeavours fail. the sounds proclaiming the midnight hour had ceased--the wind from the south came in fitful gusts through the long passages and up the winding staircase, and its moaning noise resembled the wail of lamentation from those who were suffering the punishment for crime. brady listened for a moment, and then his energies reviving, he wrenched away the bars from their slight hold, and cautiously placed them in the room. a coil of sash-line doubled and knotted was drawn forth from beneath his bed--one end was thrown over the projecting frieze of the side wall, which flanked his window, the other he held in his hand; but hardened as the man was, and thus peculiarly situated, he breathed forth a prayer to heaven for deliverance. his descent was easy, but just as he had gained the ground, a lurid light was suddenly spread around him--and in the impulse of the moment, the villain, who but a minute or two before had been petitioning the omnipotent to save him, now drew forth a sharp-pointed stiletto, determined to perpetrate murder should there be only one to oppose him. the light, however, disappeared, and he felt disposed to ridicule his own alarm, as he called to recollection that it emanated from a rocket which had been sent up from that noted and much-frequented place of amusement, bagnigge wells. without further delay, he proceeded to the outer wall, about fifty yards distant, and here, at a particular spot, he found that a rope-ladder, with a stone attached to the end, had been thrown over, which satisfied him that his confederate shipkins had not deserted him. in a few minutes he was on the summit of the wall, and could perceive a dark moving mass below; he looked over the dim expanse, and gloomy as it was in the dreariness of night, it reminded him of freedom. in a short time the rope was secured, by working it in between the coping stones, so that a knot could not be drawn through, and after trying his weight he descended totally unobserved, and found his ally awaiting him. the fleet river, which flowed by the western wall, was passed, a hackney-coach was at hand in the road, and they drove off in the direction of islington. a few days subsequently brady got down upon the coast, and obtained a passage across to france, where he remained a spectator of, and often an actor in, the revolutionary atrocities that marked this eventful era. reports, however, were prevalent that he had returned to england--the police were directed to be on the alert; but though it was repeatedly averred that he had been seen in london and its precincts, he contrived to escape the vigilance of all. chapter x. when frank heartwell visited the estate of mr. wendover, near fowey, and had an interview with helen, the merchant had journeyed to the metropolis to examine the property that had been so strangely discovered in the cottage at finchley, and which had been deposited for security in his mansion; for his steward had discovered amongst the papers, deeds involving a vast amount, together with several thousand pounds in bank-notes, the whole belonging, he had every reason to believe, to a person then in existence. mr. wendover went down to finchley, and ascertained by a registry of names and documentary evidence, that an extensive conspiracy, connected with the revolutionary societies of the day, had been in fearful progress, and that one of the principal leaders and agents had formerly been in possession of the cottage, where arms and ammunition had been collected to carry out their traitorous designs; but the promptitude of the government had arrested some of the chiefs in the intended insurrection, and the voice of the nation had so unequivocally declared against revolution, that the plan had been abandoned, and the arms remained in concealment. on examining the deeds, he was much struck by reading in numerous places the name of heartwell; and even the parcels of bank-notes which were found in a tin-box had similar superscriptions on the envelopes which inclosed them; with only this difference, that the christened name in the former was thomas, and on the latter frank. mr. wendover was well acquainted with mrs. heartwell's affecting history, and he could not help connecting the discovery of the wealth with the great loss she had sustained, especially as frequent mention was made of calcutta, where a valuable property was situated; still there was nothing of a definite nature to prove the fact. the merchant, though fond of money, was also an honourable man: he might have appropriated the treasure to his own use, but he determined to institute a rigid investigation, and then act with integrity. he accordingly waited on mrs. heartwell, and minutely inquired into every circumstance of her melancholy story; from thence he repaired to the agent and banker, through whose hands the documents had passed; and here at once his doubts were set at rest, for most of the papers were identified by the clerk (now a partner in the firm), who had delivered them up in brady's office, and produced the acknowledgment of their being received, in which the whole were distinctly noted and set forth, so as accurately to correspond with those which were found; and on referring to the books, the very numbers of the bank-notes were ascertained. all was thus far perfectly satisfactory, and mr. wendover lost no time in communicating the intelligence to mrs. heartwell, to whom the acquisition of riches was only acceptable, as tending to promote the welfare of her son. everything was put in proper train to secure her right, and she now experienced a melancholy satisfaction in returning to the cottage, as she cherished a fervent hope that there the mystery which hung over the fate of her husband would be solved. at no time had she yielded to utter despondency; but the merchant strongly suspected that the lieutenant had been decoyed or forced to the cottage, murdered, and his remains deposited in some of the vaults underground, which (under pretence of requiring repairs, so as not to wound mrs. heartwell's feelings) were immediately ordered to be cleared, and every part strictly examined. this was faithfully executed, but nothing whatever was discovered to elucidate the affair, beyond the fact, that the former occupants were men of daring and desperate character, whose names were unknown in the neighbourhood. mr. wendover returned to cornwall for the purpose of removing his family to the metropolis; he promised mrs. heartwell to inform her son of the events which had transpired, and if possible to put into plymouth and perform it personally. after some delay the anxious mother wrote all the particulars to the young officer, and the letter reached plymouth on the very day that frank sailed for the mediterranean, so that he departed wholly ignorant of his good fortune. young heartwell's breast glowed with warm and joyous feelings, when the thoughts of his having rescued helen from death dwelt upon his mind:--and when did he forget it? he had shown her proud father that he was not undeserving of friendship and patronage, and he had again proved to helen the devotedness of his regard. the mediterranean offered a fair field for promotion to those who were determined to merit it; for nelson was there, and his name carried with it a conviction that daring achievements and good conduct would not be suffered to sink into oblivion. the frigate made a quick passage to gibraltar, where she was suffered to remain only a few hours, and was then directed to pursue her way with despatches for sir horatio nelson. it was known that the french fleet was out from toulon, and the gallant admiral in pursuit, but his exact situation rested on conjecture. with a fine breeze the captain steered for sicily, and found the fleet at syracuse, preparing to get under weigh; the despatches were delivered, the supernumeraries of the frigate were transferred to the flag-ship--the vanguard; and thus frank and his two humble friends, ben and sambo, had the honour of being within the same heart-of-oak with the gallant hero whose fame has been immortalised throughout the world, and whose name is sanctified by a nation's gratitude. nelson was ever kind and considerate to young officers,--he looked upon them as under his immediate protection and care, and frank's appearance and manners very soon attracted his notice; he inquired relative to his future prospects--learned the story of his life--had been acquainted with his father, and he now promised to befriend the son, should the young man prove deserving of his patronage. as a pledge of his future intentions, he promoted a meritorious midshipman to the rank of lieutenant, and gave frank the vacant rating, "in order," as the admiral said, "to give him a stronger claim upon the admiralty when they had captured or destroyed the fleet of the enemy," for he entertained no doubt of the result could he but fall in with them. the battle of the nile is a matter recorded in the pages of history, and no englishman can be ignorant of its details--therefore description will be unnecessary here. ben was in his glory, and though his gun was twice nearly cleared of men, and himself severely wounded, he continued nobly performing his duty, taking a steady aim in the darkness by the fire of their opponents, the spartiate and aquilon--exclaiming as he applied the match to the priming, "hurrah! there it goes, my boys! what's the odds so as you're happy?" frank was on the quarter-deck near the undaunted chief when he fell wounded into the arms of captain berry, and nelson's face was instantly covered with blood that deprived his remaining eye of sight--a piece of langridge having struck him across the forehead and cut away a portion of skin, that hung down like a flap. frank assisted in carrying the brave admiral to the cockpit, and was witness to his magnanimity, when he refused to have his own wounds dressed until those who had precedence of him were attended to. he recognised the midshipman by his voice--pressed his hand--requested captain berry not to forget his interests, and bade the young man "farewell," for nelson believed that he was dying. happily for his country, the hero lived--the enemy was beaten, and frank, with strong certificates and recommendation, was sent home in one of the captured ships that he might be enabled to pass his examination at somerset house, and avail himself of nelson's kind intentions. it would be impossible to describe the emotions that agitated the young officer when apprised on his arrival of the events that had occurred to advance his good fortune, and the prospect of a favourable consideration in the esteem of mr. wendover, which promised him future happiness with the dear girl he so ardently loved. as soon as possible he obtained leave of absence, and ben, whose wounds required attention, accompanied him to london. the meeting with his mother and helen was joyous and delightful; but still there came painful thoughts of his father blending with those of a happier mood, and, like mr. wendover, he connected circumstances together till something like conviction had established itself that the cottage was the spot in which his parent had been plundered and destroyed. helen was no longer forbidden to hold intercourse with frank--the merchant himself now sanctioned the intimacy, and never ceased expressing his admiration at the young man's conduct when his yacht was wrecked. ben found an asylum at the cottage; but when commiserated on account of the injuries he had sustained, he declared that he was proud of his "honourable scars."--"they were gained," he would say, "under nelson, fighting for my king and country--and what's the odds so as you're happy?" frank passed his examination very creditably--he was not forgotten by earl chatham--his testimonials were excellent, and three days afterwards he was presented with a lieutenant's commission, appointing him to a seventy-four, recently launched at woolwich; he joined without delay, as the duties would not prevent his frequent visits to finchley. it was at the close of a dull november afternoon that he sat in the parlour of the cottage alone; for on his arrival about an hour previous, he ascertained that his mother and ben had suddenly been summoned to the city on business of importance, and the servant-man had driven them to town in her own little carriage--the gardener had been sent for to the manor-house, and no one remained but the maid-servant and a young girl. more than once the lieutenant rose from his seat, and taking his hat, prepared to set out, and pass an hour or two with helen, but, anxious to learn the purport of his mother's embassy, and conjecturing that she would not be long before she made her appearance, he again seated himself in restless anxiety. the early shades of evening began to fall heavily, and there was a sickly yellow mistiness in the atmosphere that gave a jaundiced complexion to the visions of the mind. frank felt its influences, and was growing somewhat melancholy, when a stranger alighted from his horse at the gate, rung the bell, and having inquired for mrs. heartwell, rather intrusively walked into the house, and entered the parlour; but observing the lieutenant, he became evidently embarrassed, though, instantly recovering himself, he made a suitable apology in homely language. his dress and manners were those of a plain elderly country farmer--a drab great-coat with its cape encompassed his person, a capacious silk handkerchief was round his neck, his hair was cropped and grizzly, surmounted by a broad-brimmed hat, and he carried a hunting whip in his hand. frank stirred the fire so as to throw a stronger light into the room, and having requested the stranger to take a chair, politely required his business. "you are, i understand, young gentleman, about to quit this cottage," replied he, "and as i am retiring from farming, and like the situation, i should be happy to take it off your hands--either as tenant, or by purchase." "i am utterly unable, sir, to afford you any satisfactory answer on the subject," said frank; "the cottage belongs to mr. wendover, the lord of the manor, and i am not yet certain that our quitting it has been decided upon, though i admit it may take place." "in the event of your leaving, would the gentleman you have named feel disposed to part with it, think you?" inquired the stranger. "i would give him a handsome price--for in fact there are early associations connected with the place that attach me to it. you, perhaps, would exercise your influence in my favour?" the mention of early associations aroused frank's curiosity, he rang the bell, and ordered candles to be brought, and as soon as they were placed upon the table, he once more adverted to the pleasantness of the cottage, and then enquired, "pray, sir, is it long ago since you resided here?" "yes--yes--i may say it is seventeen or eighteen years," responded the stranger. "i lived with a relation then, and admire the situation so much that i should like to pass the rest of my days upon the spot." the lieutenant felt his blood tingle down to his fingers' ends at the mention of the period--it was one full of deep interest to him, and casting a searching look at the man, he demanded, "you must know brady, then?" [illustration: frank heartwell seizing brady as the murderer of his father.] the question was like an electric shock to the stranger--he started, his countenance became contorted, and in the wild rolling of his eye, frank was instantly reminded of the period at which he had first seen it when a child in the lawyer's room at lincoln's inn. he sprang from his chair, and grasping the man by the collar, exclaimed, "you--you are my father's murderer!" brady drew a pistol, and presented it at frank's head--the lieutenant knocked up the muzzle, and the ball flew harmlessly to the ceiling. at this moment two men rushed in to the lawyer's rescue, but not till frank had wrenched the pistol from his hand, and struck him a severe blow with the butt--the next instant the candles were extinguished, and heartwell lost consciousness through the stunning effects of a hit on the back of his head, and resigned his grasp; he quickly, however, regained it, and a desperate struggle ensued. at this moment the gardener returned from the manor-house--he had seen a light waggon standing on the common under the care of a boy, and on entering the gate, had been nearly knocked down by a tall stout man, who mounted a horse that was in waiting, and galloped off. hurrying into the cottage, his timely succour turned the fate of the encounter--the two scoundrels were overmatched; one contrived to steal away, frank still grasped the other, and having managed to get hold of his dirk that lay upon a sofa, the fellow was wounded past resistance and sank upon the floor. lights were brought; the lieutenant gazed earnestly on the face of his prisoner--it was not brady, but shipkins; for the lawyer, though desperately hurt, had taken advantage of frank's momentary weakness to throw down the candles and effect his escape, and the lieutenant had unknowingly seized the clerk in his stead. great were the consternation and alarm of mrs. heartwell on her return from the metropolis, to which she had been deluded by a pretended message got up by the vile confederates. the gardener too was similarly deceived; for the scoundrels, unaware that the treasure had been removed, had hoped to find the cottage destitute of protection, so that they might easily carry off the booty they expected to find. frank's presence had disconcerted brady, who invented a plausible excuse, but villany met with detection and punishment, as already described. when calmness was somewhat restored, it was proposed to send shipkins to prison in the waggon which had brought him out on his nefarious excursion; but the man was evidently dying, and mrs. heartwell conjectured that by detaining him at the cottage, and treating him with kindness, he might be induced to make admissions and confessions which would tend to elucidate the past. at first, however, he was stubborn and morose, and refused the assistance that was proffered him--he was not aware that his last hour was so near at hand, but when assured by a surgeon that he had not long to live, and he was earnestly exhorted to unburthen his mind of guilty concealment before entering the presence of his maker, the hitherto hardened sinner was subdued--the near approach of death, and the terrors of a future state, wrought powerfully on his conscience, and these increased as his physical energies decayed. none can tell the agonised suspense of mrs. heartwell and the agitation of her son as that period seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer which, they expected, would disclose the fate of a husband and a father. frank, though much hurt, would not quit his mother, and both occasionally visited the room of the dying man. remorse at length prevailed, and willing to atone as far as practicable for his misdeeds, he requested that a magistrate might be sent for to take his deposition. mr. wendover, acting in that capacity, promptly attended, and to him he revealed acts of enormity and crime in which he and brady had for years been engaged, particularly the circumstances connected with the victim of their diabolical practices--lieutenant heartwell. [illustration] footnote: [footnote 17: i believe it was the same room in which fauntleroy was confined, previously to trial.] the fire-king flue. i. _who_ burnt the _house of lords_? who, sir, who? an answer broke through fire and smoke, "_i_ burnt it down, and it wasn't in joke! with a horrible flare-up i caused it to glare up, i _done_ it 'quite brown' to astonish the town! yes, _i_ burnt it down!" you, you! who are you? "why, i am the fire-king flue!" ii. _who_ burnt _st. stephen's chapel_? ay, who, sir, who? in thunder the same, through fume and flame, the answer came, "_i_ burnt the chapel, and panted to grapple with abbey and _hall_; 'twere easy to do as roasting an apple, or smashing a stall- for i am the fire-king flue!" iii. _who_ fired the _royal exchange_? yes, who, sir, who? the reply as before came in ravage and roar- "_i_ fired the 'change with a bad kitchen range! should i do it once more when 'tis rear'd up anew, you must not think it strange, since i'm fire-proof too; yes, i am the fire-king flue!" iv. _who_ tried to fire the _bank_? ah! who, sir, who? "why, _i_ tried the bank, though it wouldn't quite do; and the city may thank the fire-brigade with their hose and tank; or the blaze _i_ made would have fired that too- yes, i, the great fire-king flue!" v. oho! is it so? then we pretty well know, who set fire to the _tower_. we do, we do! in evil hour, king flue, 'twas _you_! with your red-hot pipe for mischief ripe- with your fiery breath bringing ruin and death- with your cast-iron face, you set fire to the place- oh! pest of our race, grim, ghastly, fire-king flue! vi. _who_ burnt _woolwich dockyard_, eh? who, who, who? "_i_--king flue! a bit of a flare, you'll say; yes, thanks to the drum and gong, and the engines thundering along, and sappers and miners, all regular shiners, marines and artillery, and convicts that flock'd as if freed from the pillory; or between me and you the dockyard had been dock'd, as sure as my name's king flue!" vii. _who'll_ set the thames on fire? "_i_ will," says flue; "'tis the thing i should like to do! only give me the tunnel to use for a funnel of thrice-heated air, and you'll see such a flare! or the monument--that would do; in fact i should much prefer it; 'twould make such a capital _flue_; or when the tide turning found out it was burning, 'twould do for a poker to stir it." viii. to save our notes and gold, and our trophies now too few; to save our buildings old and to save our buildings new; tell us, braidwood, what shall we do? spirits aquatic, help us through, for we're in the clutch of fierce king flue! this prayer at least put up, good people, before you sup: "god bless the queen, and her loving prince, and the royal infants _two_; and castle and palace preserve from the malice of this terrible fire-king flue!" * * * * * p.s.--may we ask who threw that shell in the _horse guards_, with one in the barrack-yards to blow up the _gallery_ too? "ha ha! ho ho!" roars flue, "with that i had nothing to do; so mind number one, for foul deeds may be done, without coming through a foul flue!" [formerly, when a public building was scorched or burnt, the accident was accounted for by saying, "oh! the _plumbers_ have been at work"--or "it was the carpenter's glue-pot." "the flue" in these days supersedes every explanation; it is the great mystery that solves all other mysteries.] a passage in the life of mr. john leakey. by john copus. mr. john leakey inherited an income of five hundred a-year, and a very neat cottage, situated on the high road about three miles from c----, in one of the finest parts of the county of essex. of his parentage little need be said. his father was a clergyman, his maternal parent a cook in his grandfather's establishment whom his progenitor rashly married. this fact was a constant source of misery to the sensitive john, and will fully account for the decided antipathy, manifested by him on all occasions, to that useful class of domestics in general, and especially to that particular individual who happened for the time to superintend the culinary department of hill cottage. indeed his language regarding cooks was occasionally quite shocking. his maiden sister jemima, a highly nervous female of spare and meagre proportions, frequently went into small fits caused by john's outrageous and unbecoming language or conduct, when the subject of cooks was by any chance introduced. "if i had my way," worthy john would say with stern voice and solemn countenance, "i'd let no woman be a cook who was not fifty at least; had it not been for jane grubbings i might hold up my head as a gentleman. they are all of them a set of vicious, impudent, and designing hussies. i attribute half the miseries of human life to cooks." "no doubt, john--like enough!" replies the ever calm and peaceful jemima, anxious to agree with her brother in all things; "i've always said that nothing causes greater misery than indigestion, and badly-cooked things, you know, cause _it_; don't they, john?" "jemima, you're a jackass, so hold your tongue!" was the tender answer given to poor jemima's remarks, on this and on every occasion. it may be necessary to give the reader some idea of mr. leakey. he was a large tall man, of an unwieldy form and ogre-like gait. his countenance was broad and singularly flat; his eyes large and heavy; and as to his nose, i am quite at a loss in what category to class that nasal organ of his. at the top it was all very well, but in its descent it was like the stone gathering moss--_a vires acquirit eundo_ kind of affair; for by the time it reached its termination it was fearfully broad. it was a family nose not maternally but paternally obtained, and that was one comfort. he had it in full vigour at school, and jemima told a story about it. "poor john," she would say to a gossip, "certainly has a funny nose. when he was at school, a procacious boy (jemima occasionally miscalled words) took it into his head, d'ye know, that john had pushed it on purpose into his face, and every morning regularly when he got up, he used to pull it as hard as he could to ascertain, as he said, whether that sneaking nose of leakey's _would_ come out." a poor irishman too who had applied for relief at hill cottage, and been repulsed, spoke of leakey as a "quare gentleman anyhow! wid a face for all the world as if a crowner's quest had been on it, and the crowner being a great man, had sat on his face entirely, and the rist of them on his body, and brought in a vardict of '_found soft_.'" enough, however, has been said of john's personal appearance; i only add that he wore bluchers, with trousers tightly strapped over them, cherished flannel waistcoats and comforters, was an intolerable politician because he never read anything but the ----, which was his oracle; and on the whole was a little close-fisted. years had flown quietly over hill cottage, from which, farther than occasionally to c----, neither john nor his sister jemima had ever gone; nor indeed did they wish to go. great, consequently, was the amazement and consternation which prevailed in their quiet little breakfast parlour, when there came from mr. jiggins, john's agent in town, a letter announcing said john's accession to some property, and the necessity of his appearance in the great metropolis for a few hours at the least. "three hundred a-year, john!" exclaimed his sister; "indeed you are a very fortunate man." "ay, ay! no doubt, jemima; but what in the name of goodness gracious am i to do in london? i've not been there for thirty-five years." "well, love!" soothingly answered jemima; "you can go up at seven by the star, you know, and return again the same night. so you'd better write and tell mr. jiggins when you mean to go, and he can arrange matters accordingly." and john did write forthwith, appointing the hour of twelve on the following tuesday, to meet the necessary parties at jiggins' offices, in tokenhouse yard. on tuesday morning the whole household was in motion as early as four, the coach leaving at seven. there was such a wrapping of shawls, airing of musty camlet cloaks, and putting up of sandwiches and ginger lozenges, as never was seen before. nay, jemima insisted on his carrying a basket with him in which she told him had been placed the _rousseaux_ left at yesterday's dinner. the arrival of the star at hill cottage put an end to all these preparations, and with fear and trembling mr. leakey was consigned to the inside of the coach. jemima, elevated on her pattens, and bearing a lantern, came down to the end of the little garden for the purpose of recommending her brother to the especial care of the coachman burrell, adding by way of further inducement on his part to attend to her request, a small fib, to the effect that "indeed he had not been at all well lately." nimrod has so eloquently described the utter amazement of a gentleman of the old school when travelling by a modern ten-mile-an-hour coach, as to render it quite unnecessary for me to attempt any description of worthy john's surprise at the rapid progress made by the star towards the metropolis; how he gazed in silent wonder at the splendid teams of cattle which at every stage stood ready in their glittering harness to carry him on to town; and finally, how he marvelled when in the space of four hours he was safely landed in aldgate, having travelled thirty-eight miles in that short time: on all this it is unnecessary for me to dilate. his troubles now seemed to crowd upon him. "vant a cab, sir?" eagerly demands an impudent-looking fellow, rushing up, whip in hand, to where the unhappy leakey stood utterly confounded by the bustle which surrounded him. "gen'lm'n called me, bill," exclaims a second in a chiding voice; "i see him a noddin' his head as he come along!" "don't you go vith them, sir!" angrily breaks in a third; "i've got a reg'lar comfortable old jarvey, sir, cut down o' purpose for you, 'cos i know'd you vos a coming up to-day--and sich a hoss--only cab fares, sir--this vay!" and he was beginning to drag off the unresisting leakey, when, "come, just move orf!" exclaims the burley voice of burrell; "i'll put you into a coach, sir, and remember i leaves this here place at hafe past three, punctooal!" so john was placed in a coach. "vhere's shall i drive, sir?" demands the coachman. "oh! ah!" exclaims our hero, drawing forth a card from which he reads--"a basket,--an umbrella,--a camlet cloak,--two shawls,--a great-coat,--a comforter,--a pair of galoshes,--all right--and self?--yes, then drive to mr. jiggins' offices in tokenhouse yard, lothbury." "wery good, sir." and off they went. arrived at mr. jiggins's office, he found that worthy engaged, and the other parties not arrived. "give mr. leakey a chair, jemes," said mr. jiggins, "and here's this morning's paper, sir; splendid leader, mr. leakey; powerful writing. stir the fire, jemes, and put some more coals on--that'll do." so leakey was placed on a chair before the fire to amuse himself with a perusal of a paper of whose existence he was only conscious by the fearful denunciations contained occasionally in the ---against it. there sat leakey, still enveloped in his panoply of cloth and camlet, shawl and galoshes, eyeing "the leader" which had been the subject of jiggins's eulogium. he read on. could his eyes have ceased to possess discriminating power? or was there living the caitiff wretch so utterly reprobate as to call his loved ---by such names? it was too true. the more he read, the more convinced was he of the utter depravity of the human heart, and especially of the horrible wickedness of the man who could coolly declare that long article in the ----, over which he, john leakey, had only yesterday gloated, to be "_twaddle_." his anger was excessive; another moment and he would have cast "that pestilential rag," as he ever afterwards denominated the vituperating journal, into the fire, had not jiggins at that moment entered, and with him the men whose presence was required for the settlement of john leakey's affairs. scarcely checking his excited feelings, john suffered himself to be led to business. this being, after a time, satisfactorily finished, an adjournment took place to a neighbouring hostel; john, for once in his life, on the strength of three hundred a-year added to his former property, being generous enough to volunteer tiffin. the beefsteaks were done to a turn, the stout magnificent, the sherry first-rate. jiggins had no particular business to call him home, so, with the two gentlemen beforenamed, thoroughly enjoyed himself at leakey's expense, making fun occasionally of poor john, who, luckily, at all times rather obtuse, was becoming more and more muddled and confused every moment, so as not to dream, when his friends burst out into a loud laugh, that he was the subject of it. at half-past three, jiggins accompanied our friend to aldgate, saw him safely deposited once more in the star, and as it was now raining heavily, and he had no further inducement to remain, wished him good-bye, and returned to tokenhouse yard. the coach was full inside, and john had just satisfactorily arranged his camlet, &c., when burrell came to the door, put his head gently in at the window, as he stood on the steps, and said, "have you any objection, gen'lm'n, to let a young ooman ride inside? it's raining fearful, and she'll get her death, i know she will, outside." "no, no!" gruffly responded the other three. it would have been well had john been equally opposed to five inside. as it was, however, "tiffin" had enlarged his heart, and he said, "oh, yes, burrell, i'll make room for her; you know, gentlemen, it would be a sad thing if she got her death through our unkindness." the persons addressed made no reply, nor had leakey much time to consider the prudence of his act, before the door was opened, and burrell handed a good-looking young woman into the coach, who seeing no disposition on the part of the other three to make room for her, very quietly sat down on mr. j. leakey's knees, being no mean weight. this was, however, scarcely a voluntary act, for the coach moved on at the moment and forced her to assume that position. thus for twelve miles did he sit, at times wincing rather under his somewhat uncomfortable position, and not particularly pleased with the undisguised amusement of the others. eventually he was liberated, for the three hard-hearted individuals left the coach at the end of twelve miles, and leakey and the interesting female were left together. john felt that some little stimulus to his exhausted spirits might be desirable, so called for a glass of brandy-and-water; of which he drank as much as he wished for, and offered the rest to his fair _vis-à-vis_, who really seemed a very pleasing kind of person. she thanked him, and saying, "here's to your very good health, sir," smirked, and drank it off. when the coach went on again, leakey felt wonderfully invigorated, and entered into conversation with the lady, who proved highly communicative as to the respectability of her mother, and the moral excellence of all her relations. it was a very critical moment for an old bachelor, muddled as poor john most undoubtedly was. he called to mind jemima's spare figure and not very beautiful face, and more than once thought how much pleasanter it would be to have at the head of his table so comely and intelligent a person as seemed the interesting individual now before him. "infatuated a second time" (as julia mannering says to bertram on his arrival from portanferry at woodburne, but _why_ i never could discover)--"infatuated a second time" was our hero, for a second glass of brandy-and-water was had at the next stage, and duly consumed between the lady and himself. leakey was now thoroughly fuddled, and the lady more agreeable than ever. in short--for the afflicting, the humiliating truth will force its way--before the coach stopped to change for the last time, the frantic john leakey had actually proposed to his unknown enslaver--nay, worse--he was her accepted! it was not until this climax of his folly had put a temporary stop to conversation that he had time to think at all. muddled as he was, he began to fear he had been too hasty. the fair lady was silent, as labouring under powerful emotions; and the coach having changed at c----, was not more than a mile from hill cottage, when she said, mildly-"it's a very fortnit circumstance, sir, as i met with you; becos, i'm a going to a old genlm'n as lives near here--as----" "eh?" groaned john, "as--what, eh?" "oh, i was a going as _cook_; on'y, in course, i shan't stay with him long." "as cook! my gracious me!" exclaimed, or rather screeched, the miserable man; "what's the gentleman's name?--tell me quick!" "mr. leakey, sir!" when burrell opened the coach-door as soon as hill cottage was gained, he found the unhappy john leakey perfectly frantic. "coachman, burrell, take her away! she's a cook! she's a vicious, designing, impudent thing! she's made me propose to her--me--me--the son of a cook--oh! o-oh! o-o-oh!" draw we a veil over the proceedings which followed. mr. leakey, what with brandy and agony of mind, was put to bed perfectly raving. the cook was taken in for the night, and on being attacked by jemima was scarcely restrained from flying at that exemplary spinster, who called her all the names she had ever heard her brother apply to women of her class. next morning cook was dismissed, and shortly threatened an action, which leakey was glad to compromise by the payment of one hundred pounds; making at the same time a solemn vow that he never would travel inside a coach again, or if he did, that he never would take compassion on a woman so far as to let her ride inside, though it should rain cats, dogs, and hedgehogs! omnibus chat. it is essential to the full effect of a parody, whatever that may be, that the original--or, in other words, the thing parodied--should be familiar to the reader. now, several parodies which we have this month received, undoubtedly possess that advantage. we have had three or four versions of "the sweet little cherub that sits up aloft," dictated by the happy event that has given a young prince to wales, and a glad promise to all england; we have received half-a-dozen parodies on "gray's elegy," suggested by the conflagration at the tower; and we have also been favoured with a like number of variations of the "beggar's petition," commemorative of the detection of the fasting philosopher, bernard cavanagh, in the act of purchasing a "saveloy." but although the originals are all well known, we are tempted to pass these parodies by, in favour of one upon a poem which should be well known too. we allude to alfred tennyson's "mariana at the moated grange." whoso knoweth it not, will wisely let what follows attract his notice to a singularly touching production; and whoso remembereth it, will read with better relish, and no irreverence to the beautiful thus companioned by the burlesque, our accomplished correspondent's ingenious story of the clerk. a parody. with black coal-dust the walls and floor were thickly coated one and all; on rusty hinges swung the door that open'd to the gloomy wall; the broken chairs looked dull and dark, undusted was the mantel-piece, and deeply speck'd with spots of grease within, the chamber of the clerk. he only said, "i'm very weary with living in this ditch;" he said, "i am confounded dreary, i would that i were rich." his bills came with the bells at even; his bills came ere their sound had died; he could not think why bills were given, except to torture clerks--and sigh'd. and when the flickering rushlight's flame in darkness deep could scarce be seen, he mutter'd forth his bottled spleen, unheard by aught of mortal frame. he said, "my life is very dreary with living in this ditch;" he said, "i am tarnation weary, i would that i were rich." upon the middle of the bed, sleeping, he dream'd of hoarded gold; sovereigns were jingling in his head, and in his ken was wealth untold. but when he woke, no hope of change, in silver or in circumstance, before his sorrowing eyes did dance; he thought that it was very strange- but only said, "my life is dreary, i'll go to sleep," he said; he said "i am infernal weary, i would that bill were paid." about six fathoms from the wall, a blackened chimney (much askew) smoked in his face--and round and small the chimney-pots destroy his view, hard by--a popular highway, with coal-dust turned to pitchy dark, where many a little dog doth bark, some black, some mottled, many grey. he only said, "my life is dreary with living in this ditch;" he said, "i am fatigued and weary, i would that i were rich." e. p. w. the intense melancholy of the solitary clerk, sighing in his ditch, brought up our scientific reporter, charles hookey walker, with some lucid and valuable notes of an appropriate discourse lately delivered; we append them here, for the benefit of all the doleful clerks throughout her majesty's dominions. the brightish association.--_section b.--chemistry and mineralogy._ _president_--the rev. hugh wells. _vice-presidents_--dr. durham & prof. hammer. "on the formation and analysis of a direct sigh." by mr. f. silly. the author stated that the _sigh-direct_ was that to which he had paid the greatest attention. the "_sigh-direct_," he explained, was entirely different from the "_sigh-inverse_," the one being the production of the heart, and the other of the brain; the first being the thing itself, the second merely the symbol of the thing. he found the sigh-direct to consist generally of floating ideas, in the forms of "o dear!" "ah me!" and "alas!" held in solution by about their own bulk of a vague composition, formed of wishes and a cloud-vapour (of that class which is used as a site for erecting castles in the air upon), but which were so mixed and intercorporated, as to be inseparable to the nicest analysation. from the analysis, he had determined that the prime motive of a sigh is a longing for more; and that the functions thus acted upon expand the animal economy to its greatest extent, for the purpose of gratifying the longing for getting as much as it can of something, which, in this case, is only air. and this led him to a concluding remark on the extreme uselessness and futility of sighing, perceiving, as he did, that it only gave extra work to the muscles, for no tangible consideration. mr. w. r. fixe read a memoir on the probability of there being a constant chemical action, producing results yet unknown, in the interior of the earth, and that a current of electric fluid was constantly circulating through mineral veins; and that this circulation through the veins of living rocks was of as much importance in the formation of new productions, as the circulation of the blood in the veins of living men. * * * * * our esteemed reporter proceeded to describe the proceedings of another section. _section d.--zoology and botany._ _president_--sir ely phante. _vice-presidents_--proffs. munky and nape. "a new method of supplying agricultural surfaces." by s. sappy. the author had often remarked the tendency of thatched roofs to grow corn; and it struck him that these, at present unemployed surfaces, should be made use of to conduce to the support of the inmates of houses. by growing corn in this manner a family might render itself partially independent of the farmer, grow its own wheat, and thus, at once, be elevated in the scale of existence! he would call this practice stegoculture. he had introduced it in some of his tenants' cottages, and could assure the association that nothing could have answered better than that experiment. mr. soft observed it was one of those beautifully simple discoveries of application, as he would phrase it, which, like columbus's egg, only required to be set up in the right manner, to stand a monument of ingenuity and genius to all future ages! mr. plunkey (from the statistical section) said, that this discovery had relieved his mind of a heavy weight; he had long hoped for some light to dissipate the gloom with which he viewed the increase of population, while the land did not increase, but, on the contrary, diminished; for, as generations sprung up, houses rose also; thus, as more crop-ground was needed, more ground was needed for buildings. but with the aid of stegoculture, he had now no reason to apprehend a scarcity of growing-room, but, on the contrary, it was evident to any geometrist, that the two sides of a roof were of greater area than the ground they cover, thus giving an increase instead of a diminution of surface. with the impressions he had of the usefulness of this mode of culture, he looked forward to the time when agriculture would vanish before the spread of human habitations, and the science of stegoculture become of universal application. the president read a letter from professor de lenz, and the schah pyez, (professor of twigology in the university of cairo), giving an animated description of their discovery of the skeleton of a male flea in the folds of a mummy cloth. the secretary then read the report of the committee which was appointed last year to inquire into the reason, "why crocodiles laid eggs." the report stated, that, the association having furnished them with means (£500) to prosecute this inquiry, so important to science; they found it absolutely necessary to take a long and arduous journey into egypt, to investigate the facts upon the spot. they had run great risks in pursuing their researches: having killed a crocodile for the purpose of dissection (which act had filled the arabs with horror, as they consider the crocodile holy), they had narrowly escaped becoming martyrs in the cause of science. they had examined many hieroglyphics, and had discovered upon some of the most ancient, figures of a crocodile with wings,--this proved them to have been at one and the same time inhabitants of the water, the earth, and the air, and therefore, from their assimilation to the functions of birds, they laid eggs. this the committee had concluded was the reason of the phenomenon. they also stated, that, from the various facts which had come under their notice during this inquiry, they had no doubt that dragons at one time existed,--and proposed that a grant should be made for the purpose of searching for the skeleton of the famous dragon of wantley. mr. smith (of london) read a paper showing that the popular story of "jack and the bean-stalk" was founded upon the old tradition of the lotus-eaters, and that the idea of the tale had been taken from the alleged power the lotus-fruit had in producing an elevation-above-the-clouds sort of feeling in the eater,--which was only transferred into reality in the case of jack: the injunction of pythagoras to his disciples to abstain from _beans_, being supposed to refer to the lotus, may have given the idea of a bean-stalk to the novelist. dr. daub stated, that by watering the ground round the roots of flowers with different chemical solutions, suited to the changes in colour wished for, he had been able to alter the tints of the petals to various colours, thus producing an agreeable and novel effect. playing on the piano. [illustration] the above communication having been read, a speculative listener suggested as a subject for one of the learned professors, the sympathetic connection which evidently exists between music and fire. he cited, as an old example of this, the fiddling of nero during the burning of rome; and related, as a recent proof of the secret affinity, the following story: "it is known," he said, "that during the fire at the tower the soldiers in the fortress, as well as others, were occupied in removing the furniture of many of the inhabitants;" and free access was of course afforded them for that purpose. in one instance, a lady who had rushed up to the top of the house to secure some valuables, was, on descending after a short absence to the drawing-room, astonished to see two enormous 'british grenadiers' _attempting_ to play the _piano_; upon being discovered, they struck up the 'grenadiers' march' to 'double-quick time,' carrying off the 'upright grand' in a very orderly and soldier-like manner. by the way, as we have here recurred to the subject with which we opened this number, the fire at the tower, we may mention that a relic of the wheel of the victory is yet in existence; for a friend of ours assures us that while the fire was raging in the upper floors of the armoury he saw a person _saw_ off one of the handles of the said wheel; and if he have not yet given it into the hands of the proper parties, we would recommend him to do so at once, or it may be made a _handle_ against him. it was upon another occasion that a lady and gentleman, who had just seen their opposite neighbour's house burnt down, were discussing the spectacle with great seriousness. "how i grieved," said the lady, "to see poor mrs. tims's beautiful damask curtains on fire." "ah," returned her husband, who had a musical taste, "i didn't so much mind the curtains; but what grieved me most was to see the fireman _playing_ upon that capital grand piano of theirs." [illustration] the subject next started was equally seasonable--though not seductive. the poet is evidently in the situation of one of her majesty's subjects that we know of--who is the parent of more of her majesty's subjects than we do know of--who, in fact, declares that his house is so "full of children" he cannot _shut the street-door for them_. november weather. autumn leaves are falling round us now, in all the late green gardens! summer flowers would quite astound us- --rare are they as "queen ann's fardens!" once green lanes are now mere sloshes; garden walks are quite unpleasant; cloaks, umbrellas, and goloshes, now are aught but evanescent! all the shrubberies are dripping- plots of grass are soft and spungy- roads seem only made for slipping- and we fall like--missolunghi! now the streets are clear of rabble- shopkeepers find no employment- ducks and geese keep gabble, gabble- mocking us with their enjoyment! now we cry, "when _will_ it leave off?"- "what a very nasty day 'tis!"- "there!--'tis clearing, i believe, off!"- "no--how tiresome!--that's the way 'tis!" "sarah," says mama, "my dear love, don't waste time in looking out there, come, and learn your lesson here, love- --jacky, mind what you're about there!" "john dear, mind! you'll break that window, come away, john, there's a darling!- jane, love, put away that pin, do!- tom, _do_ keep that dog from snarling!"- "there! you've broke it, john!" "o please, ma, --couldn't help it!"--(here a blubber) (enter pa.) "why how you tease ma!- peace, you little squalling lubber!" "pray, my dear, don't let the children break the panes and roar like this now- lauk, the noise is quite bewild'ring!" "pa, give little jane a kiss now." sweet to be "shut in" and quiet, pleasant souls all snug together! but when "brats" are there to riot, heaven defend us from wet weather!- c. h. w. mrs. toddles. even the most agreeable offices and employments of life are sometimes accompanied by melancholy misadventures; and the pleasure which we enjoy from month to month in the good-humoured reader's company, is now subject to a very serious drawback; for a painful duty is imperatively imposed upon us. we have to express our deep and poignant regret at being the medium, innocently and unconsciously, of wounding the susceptible feelings of a lady. we have hurt the feelings of mrs. toddles, by publishing some particulars of her life. it is true, we did not consider them to be in the slightest degree calculated to produce such an effect, nor did we vouch for their accuracy: no matter; her feelings are hurt, her sensibilities are shocked; and that deeply-injured lady is entitled to, and is hereby offered, the expression of our most sincere and heartfelt regret. thus far in deference and delicacy to mrs. toddles. we must now proceed to state that we have received a letter from col. walker, or talker, as he appears to sign himself, in which he remonstrates with us for publishing some professed particulars of the life of mrs. toddles, demands satisfaction and atonement on her part, and declares that even while his letter was being written, that injured lady was in violent hysterics. we conclude from the tone of the gallant colonel's complaints, that the public mention of mrs. t.'s "age" has given offence; and our correspondent is pronounced to be totally misinformed on that as on other points. we grant this to be possible; we did not vouch for the accuracy of mr. sly's statement, and are of opinion that no gentleman can know a lady's age so well as she knows it herself. our maxim is, that every lady has a right to be, at all periods of her life, exactly what age she pleases--thirty odd at sixty-two if she likes. we also admit that every lady has a right to go into hysterics as often as she sees occasion; but because mrs. t. chooses to exercise these sacred privileges of her sex, we do not recognise col. talker's right to threaten us with "law," or to attempt to frighten us with notices of "action." we are not to be intimidated there; we have too many lawyers among our acquaintances, and very pleasant fellows they are too. [illustration: col. walker, as he was seen when going to fetch the peppermint.] but, after all, we cannot conceive that there is any very great harm done; for we are perfectly well aware, whatever col. talker may say, that mrs. t.'s "fit" was not of a nature to show that her sensibilities had been _very_ seriously shocked, and we shall at once let the colonel into our secret. we beg to tell him candidly that _we know all about it_. the fact is, that a correspondent of ours happens to reside exactly opposite mrs. t.'s first floor, and without wishing to spy into other people's apartments, or affairs, could not help being a spectator of the scene he thus describes. [illustration] he says that col. t., entering mrs. t.'s apartment on the first floor aforesaid, found that lady in a state of great excitement, the "omnibus," no. 7, in her hand. after pointing in a very agitated manner to the last page, she drew forth her pocket handkerchief. the gallant colonel paced the room evidently moved; he then appeared to be attempting to soothe her, but in vain--she shook her bonnet violently, and went off in a fit. the colonel hereupon, instead of rushing to the chimney-piece for the smelling-bottle, seized a pint decanter, and hastily quitted the house. immediately after, the bit of a girl was seen attempting to force a glass of cold water upon her mistress, which only seemed to make her worse; for she kicked the girl's shins with those dear little bits of black legs of hers most violently, something in the manner of mr. punch after he has been thrown from his horse. the gallant colonel, after a short absence, knocked at the street door, and the moment the girl left the room to admit him, up jumped mrs. toddles--fact!--ran to the looking-glass over the fire-place, put her bonnet to rights, completing the adjustment with the usual side glances right and left, and then, to the utter astonishment of our informant, she resumed her seat--_and her fit_!--oh, mrs. t.! we suppress the remainder of our informant's description, merely remarking, that the pint decanter, when colonel t. drew it from his pocket, contained, to all appearance, some strong restorative, the virtue and quality whereof the colonel at once tested, by tossing off a bumper in the most gallant manner. we have since ascertained that it was _peppermint_. whether our statement will be satisfactory to colonel walker we neither know nor care; but with respect to mrs. toddles we have expressed our contrition, and promise never to mention her age again. any kindness we can render her will be at all times hers, and as a slight token of our sincerity, we respectfully beg that lady's acceptance of a pound of mixed tea, (eight-shilling green, and six-shilling black, very good,) which is left at our publisher's, if she will send her girl for it. [illustration: designed. etched & published by george cruikshank. january 1st 1842. jack o'lantern.] jack-o'lantern. every man has his jack-o'lantern;--in dark night, in broad noon day--in the lonely wild, or in the populous city--each has his jack-o'lantern. to this man jack comes in the likeness of a bottle of old port, seducing him from sobriety, and leaving him in a quagmire; to that man, he appears in the form of a splendid phaeton and a pair of greys, driving him into bankruptcy, and dropping him into the open jaws of ruin. to one he presents himself in the guise of a cigar, keeping him in a constant cloud; to another he appears in no shape but that of an old black-letter volume, over which he continues to pore long after his wits are gone. here you see jack blazing in scarlet, and luring his dazzled follower on by military trappings alone to the pursuit of glory; and there jack jumps about in the brilliant motley of harlequin, tempting a grave and leaden-heeled victim to dance away his nights and days. jack-o'lantern is to some people, a mouldy hoarded guinea--and these he leads into the miser's slough of despond; with others, when he pays them a visit, he rolls himself up into the form of a dice-box--and then he makes beggars of them. poetry is one man's jack-o'lantern, and a spinning-jenny is another's. fossil bones, buried fathoms deep in the earth, act jack's part, and lure away one class to explore and expound; cuyps and claudes, in the same way, play the same part with a second class, and tempt them to collect, at the sacrifice of every other interest, or pursuit in life. jack will now take the likeness of a french cook, and draw a patriot from his beloved country to enjoy a foreign life, cheap; and now he will assume the appearance of a glass of water, persuading the teetotaller, who "drank like a fish" in his young days, to go further astray, and drink a great deal more like a fish in his old days. jack-o'lantern has some attractive shape for every age and condition. in childhood, he lures us, by overhanging clusters of cherries and currants, into regions consecrated to steel-traps and spring-guns; in after-age, he takes us irresistibly into the still more dangerous region of love and romance, winning us by his best lights--the bright eyes of woman; and to the very end of our days he finds some passion or prejudice wherewith to woo us successfully--some straw wherewith to tickle us, how wise-soever, and unwilling we may be. the very seasons of the year--each has its jack-o'lantern. the bright glancing sunshine of a spring morning, when it tempts us into a sharp east-wind under promise of sultriness;--the rich luxuriousness of summer, when it fills us with aches and cramps, after revelling in romps among the grass. christmas--yes, christmas itself has its jack-o'lantern. we do not mean the great blazing fire, which has been properly called the heart and soul of it; no, jack plays his part amidst the roysters in the jovial time, by urging extra plum-pudding, which involves extra brandy with it; by suggesting mince-pies, and other irresistibles, that involve a fit of indigestion; by conjuring up blind-man's-buff, to lead one into the peril of rent skirts, and bruised heads; or by appearing in the form of a pack of cards, to the loss perhaps of one's money or one's temper * * * moralize we no longer upon jack-o'lantern; he has led us to christmas, and let him leave us there in pleasant company. christmas. by sam. sly. now is the time for all things prime! cramm'd turkeys, dropsied lambs, and oily geese, forced chickens, bloated pigs, and tons of grease; sir-loins of suet--legs, and wings, of fat, and boys from school, to say they "can't touch that;" mountains of mutton, tubs of tails and blubber, larks by the yard, like onions on a string, and giblets by the pailful is a thing enough to turn the stomach of a grubber, unless he tweak his nose and shut his eyes. and then again there's piles of lemon-peel, hillocks of nutmegs, currants, plums, and figs; and children gazing "merry as the grigs," longing (for that which joy cannot conceal) that some of these may sweeten their "minced pies." now, men get civil--lads more mild appear, than they were wont to do throughout the year; the hat is doff'd--civilities come fast that after christmas who shall say will last? now, pens are busy writing out "old scores," and birds get pert and hop about our doors, fighting their comrades for the largest crumbs. see that old lady shivering as she goes, furr'd to the eyes, and muffled to the nose, and he who thumps his sides to warm his thumbs. mark the lone berry on the mountain ash like a child's coral on a leafless twig- watch the tom-tit that's shaking it: he's getting desperate--bolting it slap dash- a decent mouthful for a throat not big. now here's a pretty lesson for all sinners, hunger's the sauce to sweeten christmas dinners. the fire burns blue--the nearest part gets roasted- the "off-side" suffers in the frigid zone; just like a slice of bread that's been half toasted- one spot is brown'd--the other cold as stone. the winds are hoarse, the sun gets shy and cool, that is, he's not so warm with his embraces- and old jack frost instead begins to rule, so with his brush puts rouge on ladies' faces; a tint more lovely than the finest powder, and speaking to the eye and heart much louder. now friends get close--and cousins meet their cousins, babbies their daddies--aunts their pretty nieces; the jokes go round, and lies perhaps by dozens, and jacky pulls his master all to pieces. now prayers and cards are all the go- how's that you ask? well, i don't know; i only know--the fact is so! a snap-dragon: consisting of a song, a sonnet, and a serenade. a "jolly" song--by charles hookey walker, esq. leave, o! leave, that set of fellows, who are always sensible; they give one the blues and yellows- 'tis most reprehensible! stretch your mouths from ear to ear, never mind your beauty: wisdom never holds it dear- laugh, and do your duty! laughing does a person good, muscles exercising; helping to digest the food- so 'tis not surprising that by laughing all grow fat, chasing off the yellows, the blue devils, and all that; laugh, then, jolly fellows! push the bottle round the board, tell the tale so merry, sing the songs that are _encored_. let's be happy--very! push the bottle round about, let us hear your singing, give it voice, and troll it out. set the glasses ringing! "here's a health to her i love! hip! hip! hip! hurra, sirs!" "d'ye think, sir, that the gods above shave themselves with razors?" "no, sir, to be sure they don't, but with shells of oysters!" "wine with me, sir?" "no, i won't!" thus go on the roysters. laughing, quaffing, glee and fun! that's the time of day, sir; laugh that life was e'er begun, laugh your life away, sir! never wish you ne'er were born, don't sit sadly sighing; morn and eve, from eve to morn, laugh, for time is flying! sonnet to "some one." and thou wert there! and i was not with thee! thy bright eyes shone on many, but their ray was just as if you had been alice gray, and hadn't braided up your hair for me. this method of expressing it, you see, implies the same as if i were to say (as _vide_ song) your eyes were turned away, and my heart's breaking!--as it ought to be- (and so it is of course). this world is drear! most drear--without thee, some one! at my side! death! peace! i'll go and drown myself, that's clear! in the affairs of men i'll find _my_ tide. yes! life has now no music for my ear, except that tune of which the old cow died!--c. h. w. the homoeopathist's serenade. by dr. bulgardo. the toiling sun has sped to his ever-distant goal; and the moon hangs overhead like a silver parasol. long has she not unfurled her banner thus on high, but looked, for all the world, like a muffin in the sky. the tears saline, i weep, have no effect i see; the screech-owl talks in her sleep, but thou say'st nought to me. thy eyelashes, love, are soft, and long as a skein of silk; thou'rt harmless, it strikes me oft, as a grain of sugar of milk. what do you do that for? by john copus. in this age of "why and because," wherein even master thomas is considered to be devoid of his proper share of intellects unless he demand a full and clear statement of the grounds on which papa considers it expedient that he should learn his letters--in this age of essays, treatises, and commissions, wherein a plethoric pig cannot quietly stuff itself to death without some diabolus gander investigating the probable causes which eventually led to that result--it has come into the head of one deeply and many times pondering, to call the attention of a discerning and inquiring public to various little customs and practices prevalent in the world; and this with a view of eliciting at some future time satisfactory explanations of their probable origin and rationale from abler pens and keener intellects than my own, rather than with the intention of supplying them myself. * * * * * mr. brown has seated himself in his cosey arm-chair by the fire, in his little parlour at camberwell, having just bid adieu to the "bus" which daily conveys him to and from the city, and, with handkerchief spread over his broad countenance, is settling himself to sleep, surrounded by a wife and various olive branches; when--"oh, my gracious evins!" exclaims his amiable spouse, a comely dame, of warm feelings, and peculiarity in expressing them, "here's johnny been and cut hisself in such a manner you never see! lawky-daisey me! mr. brown! mr. brown!! johnny's a'most cut his finger orf!" "tsut, tsut, tsut, tsut!--deary me!--poor fellow!--tsut, tsut, tsut!" responds that individual, starting up. now, what on earth _do you do that for_, brown? come, roundly, your reason, sir? do pray tell me _why_ you produced the series of peculiar sounds represented by "tsut, tsut," &c. you are a stout man, and a sober man,--why, in the name of all that's unaccountable, _did_ you utter them? but the fact is, you are not alone, brown, in your inability to solve this difficult question. for i never yet encountered the man who _could_ satisfactorily explain to me how or why those sounds have come to be admitted into general society, as heralds or harbingers of a condoling and sympathising speech, or indicative, without further remark, of inward and heartfelt commiseration for suffering humanity in the breast of him who utters them. philosophers, just explain this! * * * * * "let us go and hear miffler preach this morning," said a friend to me the other morning, in the country: "his congregation is composed entirely of the poorest, and, i should think, the most ignorant portion of our agricultural population. but they say that he manages to preach so plainly, that every one can understand and follow him." so off we set, and a pleasant walk across the fields brought us to elmsleigh church--one of those exceedingly picturesque old places, with a funny wooden steeple, or spire, if it can be called so, rising from the still more ancient square tower. we found mr. miffler in the reading-desk already, and, by his scarlet hood, knew him an oxonian (we subsequently found he had been a first-class man). after reading the prayers exceedingly well, he ascended to the pulpit, and commenced his sermon. now, supposing his congregation to have consisted of men of my friend's mental calibre, it was an exceedingly good and intelligible sermon; but to the majority of those present it was about as intelligible as high dutch would have been, or hebrew without the points. i could not help glancing at a countryman in his smockfrock and leggins, whose countenance forcibly recalled to my mind one of those grotesque satyrs occasionally seen carved on old chimney-pieces; and wondering as i gazed at him what train of thought the words which miffler had just uttered--"_the noxious dogmas exhibited in certain patiestic commentators, subsequent to the nicene council_"--had conjured up in his mind! then again miffler gravely informed his hearers that _ambition_ was a deadly sin, warning them against it. ambition!--to a clodhopper whose only aspiration after greatness is to get farmer jeffreys to keep him on at work through the winter! miffler, _what do you do that for_? but you, again, do not stand alone. are there not many, many mifflers guilty of the same absurdity, and equally unable with your reverend self to give any satisfactory reason for so doing, except that their predecessors have done it before them? oh, ye hebdomadal boards, caputs, and convocations, explain all this! * * * * * "yes, i assure you, johnson, you never saw or heard of such a perfect fool in all your life. he literally thinks i am going to support him in idleness, and he doing nothing." "no!" "yes! and, would you believe it, he called on poor thompson, and tried to persuade him that i had behaved so shabbily to him that he really shall be obliged to cut me!" "no!" "yes! and he told brown, i owed him ever so much money." "no!" johnson! _what do you do that for?_ why in the name of common sense do you say no! no! no! when you thoroughly believe all that poor dickson has been telling you? this is a peculiar custom. philosophers, all of you, attend to it. it needs explanation. * * * * * "here's an invitation again from that odious mrs. peewitt!" says the fair but excitable mrs. framp, as she opens a scented envelope, and extracts therefrom an elegant note. "yes! here it is:-"'mrs. john george peewitt requests the pleasure of mr. and mrs. framp's company to an evening party on wednesday the --, at half-past eight.--plover lodge, tuesday morning. an early answer will oblige.'" "now, my dear framp," continues his lady wife, "i literally hate and detest that abominable mrs. peewitt!" "well, laura, she is no favourite of mine, i promise you," retorts the male framp: "and as to that peewitt, he's a vulgar little brute. so you'd better answer it at once, laura, declining it, you know--eh?" in the course of the same afternoon mrs. j. g. peewitt is gratified by the reception of this-"mrs. framp _feels exceedingly grieved_ that she and mr. framp are unable to accept mrs. j. g. peewitt's kind invitation for wednesday,----inst.--grumpion parade, tuesday afternoon." now mrs. framp, _what did you do that for_? between you and me, and to speak in plain english--you are a story-teller, mrs. framp. a story-teller! and you, old gentleman--the man framp i address--are equally guilty of the fib, as an accessory before the fact. again, this is a prevalent custom. philosophers, summon moralists to your aid, and descant on this subject. * * * * * "i am sure you sing, mr. frederick," says a pasty-faced individual of the 'female sect,' to a young gentleman in white satin waistcoat and red whiskers, who has been pottering about the piano for some time. "no, indeed, miss gromm!" he replies. "i assure you that i scarcely sing at all." "oh! i am quite sure, now, you do sing. pray do sing. will you look over this music-book? there are a great many songs in it. i am sure you will find something that will suit you." "oh! upon my word, miss gromm, i scarcely ever sing." fred! you know you've brought all your music with you to-night, and have practised it carefully over with your pretty sister bessy, purposely to sing at the gromms'. thus adjured, mr. frederick begins to turn over the leaves of the music-book, his eyes resting occasionally on such songs as 'the rover's bride,' 'the british oak,' 'wanted a governess,' and other songs which fred abominates. at last he turns to a very pretty girl sitting near him, and says faintly, "bessy! did you bring any of _your_ music?" his sister, who has been watching his proceedings, in mute surprise answers innocently enough, "oh! yes, fred, i brought _all your songs_, you know!" fred looks blue; but by the time the neat case containing them has been presented to him by a servant, he has recovered himself. now, reader, what song do you suppose this young gentleman, who scarce sings at all, will select? you are a judge of music, and you pronounce his selection admirable--for it falls on 'adelaide,' a song of which _i_ (but this quite _entre nous_) would sooner be the composer than of any song that ever was sung: but you fear lest fred would not do justice to it, as he sings so seldom. you are wrong. a finer tenor, better taste, and more correct ear, one rarely meets with in private than are possessed by fred. every one exclaims that it is a treat to hear him sing. and so it is. now, my excellent good fred, _what the deuce did you do that for_? i mean, why did you lessen the pleasure which otherwise we should have all experienced, by giving us so unfavourable a view of your character at the outset--by fibbing, my friend--downright fibbing?--there are not a few freddys, though of various degrees of excellence. this therefore is a practice which, as in the last case, calls for the investigation of moralists--aided by the royal academy of music, perhaps. this is an endless subject. i have, as it were, but just touched upon it. let others, their bosoms expanding at the thought of conferring endless benefits on the human race by so doing, rush eagerly and at once on the grand task of following it up. let them explore all societies. let an emissary be despatched into the crowded saloons of my lady hippington. let an accredited and competent reporter be sent to the dinner-table of mr. titmouse, as well as into the doubtful regions of lower life. and let their desire be, to afford as strong, as cogent, and as rational explanations of the varied customs and practices with which they may become acquainted, as my friend tam ridley gave when asked for his reasons for using a peculiar form of speech. "hoy, jem!" said that individual, a jolly yorkshire lad, as he pulled up his waggon opposite to a hostelrie in the north riding,--"hoy, jem! what has't getten to sup te' 'morn?" "what has i getten to sup t' 'morn, tam?" responded mine host, making his appearance in the doorway. "ay, lad! what hast getten to sup, i say?" "why a, i'se getten yal--dos't like yal, tam?" "ay! i does." "why a then, wil't have a sup?" "ay! i will." "wil't have it _otted_, tam?" "ay! i will." "why a, now, what maks thee say _ay_ sae aften?" "why a, then, _i'll mebbe say_ yes, _when t' days is langer and t' weather's warmer_!" lines by a y--g l--y of f--sh--n, who "never told her love, but let concealment," etc. "she speaks, yet she says _n--th--g_!"--r--o and j--t. go, bid the st--rs forget to shine, the o--n-tides to ebb and flow, bid fl--rs forget to blush and pine, but bid not me to b--n--sh w--e! thou canst not guess my s--rr--w's source, my pass--n's spring thou canst not see; thou knowest not its depth and force,- thou dreamest not 'tis l--ve for th--! fiercer than fires in æ--a's breast my s--cr--t burns in this lone h--t; d--y brings no light, sl--p yields no rest, and h--vn no air, but where th-art. i listen to the w--nds at night, they speak of th-in whispers fine; in d--n's or au--ra's light, i see no beauty, none but th--! all l--ve save mine's an idle tale of hy--n's torch and c--d's bow; i envy cl--p--ra's wail, or s--pho leaping, wild, below. for v--ry's _pâté_ holds for me- or g--nt--r's soup--no poison rare; and leaping from a b--lc--y, were quite absurd--in belg--ve square. my s--st--r raves of h--w--ll, ja--s, and thinks with dr--ss to ease my thrall; she deems not of d--vour--g flames beneath one's f--fty-g--nea sh--wl! m--ma to m--rt--r and st--rr drags me with sweet maternal haste; my p--rls of s--l they can't restore, nor l--fe's bright d--m--ds, turn'd to paste! p--pa and br--th--r n--d would win my spirit forth to ball and rout; they think of course to t--ke me in- alas! they only t--ke me out! in vain r--b--ni's sweetness now, in vain lab--che's boldest air; in vain m--cr--dy plays,--if th--, th--, the ad--r'd one, art not there! whilst thou, unbless'd with st-ck or l-nd, hast not one cr--wn per annum clear, thou knowest not that--"here's my h-nd, with f-ft--n th--s--d p---ds a year." and _were_ it known, this pass--n wild, then d--th would at my h--rt-st--gs tug! no, none shall know that th-art styled, the h-n-r-ble fr-nk f-tz m--gg! l. b. the frolics of time. a striking adventure. by laman blanchard. how i came to find myself, at midnight and in the dark, stretched on a sofa in a strange house, is of no consequence to my story; yet for the prevention of all uncharitable surmises it may be as well to mention, that the young friend whom i had deemed it prudent to see safe home from greenwich to lewisham, had participated more freely than i had in the revelries that sometimes succeed to whitebait; and that, tired and sleepy, i had not irrationally preferred the scanty accommodation of a sofa, proffered by the old servant, the family being in bed, to a return to town on a wet and dreary night. "this will do very well," i said, drowsily glancing at the length of a sofa in a large room on the ground-floor; and released from my boots only, i declined the offer of bed-clothes, and declared that i should sleep without rocking. "no, no, pray don't leave the light," cried i, as the venerable domestic set down in the fire-place a huge old-fashioned candle-shade, through the numerous round holes of which a rushlight gloomily flickered.--"i hate that abominable invention; it's the only thing that _could_ keep me awake for two minutes. that'll do--shut the door--good night." "got away sober after all!" i whispered approvingly to myself when thus left alone. "and what's better, i've got this wild, racketty young scapegrace safe home too;--early moreover, though he thinks it's so late;--i should never have dragged him away if i hadn't vowed by the beard of old time that the church-clock had struck twelve three hours ago--but it's hardly twelve yet, i think--pledged my honour it was past two! ah, well! yaw-au!--ah!" and here my thoughts were silently settling upon another subject, previously to the last seal of sleep being fixed upon my lids, when my drowsy senses were disturbed by a dull, dead sound in the air--at no great distance from the house--it was the church-clock striking twelve. i counted the strokes. midnight sure enough! and somehow at that moment it occurred to my mind that i had taken time's name in vain rather too roundly, and had vowed by his sacred beard rather irreverently to say the least, when i protested three times over, that no soul living would hear the clock strike twelve again _that_ night! no matter--it was a fib told to serve a good purpose--a little bit of evil done quite innocently--the end sanctifies the means! and in the space of three seconds i was again more than half asleep, when another clock struck--another, nearer and clearer than the last. it was a large full-toned house-clock, fixed probably on the staircase or the hall, though i had not observed it on entering. its sounds were prolonged and solemn. again i counted the strokes--twelve; which i had no sooner done, than a third clock struck--nearer to me still, for it was evidently in the room, at the further end; and so sharp and quick in succession were the strokes, that to count them would have been difficult, even had i been less startled by them than i was. what a very curious clock! thought i; and during the second that was occupied by its striking, i raised my head and looked in the direction of the sound; the apartment might be miles or feet long, for aught that i could _see_. the curtains and shutters were closed--no scrap of the window was to be seen--no glimpse even of the dull damp night without was to be had. all was darkness---but not silence; for before i could again shut my eyes, a clock began to strike, slowly, softly, in tones "most musical, most melancholy," right over my head, as though it were fixed to the wall only a few feet above me. every sound was like the moan of a dying bird. i counted them--twelve as before. yes, it was a clock that struck; it _must_ be a clock; and it was right almost to a minute, by the church. what was there wonderful in that? nothing--only-hark! the chimes too at midnight! on a table almost within my reach, some merry sprite seemed, to the ear of my imagination, performing a serenade to the lingering hour of twelve. he struck up the chimes with such a lively grace, and echoed them with such a ringing laugh, that the twelve sounds which announced the hour when he ceased, lost all the usual monotony of tone, and said, not merely in melody, but almost as distinctly as words could have said it, "twelve o'clock"--four times over. i jumped up--and sat for an instant, my drowsiness all gone and my eyes unusually wide open, looking into the darkness around me. i knew that there was a table close by, but neither table nor clock was visible in that utter gloom; not a trace of any form or figure could my straining sight discover. to grope my way six feet forward, and feel upon the surface of the table whether, among the ornaments which there, as in other parts of the room, i had carelessly noted when first shown in, a _clock_ was to be numbered, seemed easy enough; but scarcely had i stretched out, in fear and gentleness, one trembling hand upon that venturous errand, when i dropped back again upon the sofa, startled half out of my wits by the sudden striking of two more clocks, two at once--one loud, one low--apparently at opposite sides of the room; and before they had finished twelve strokes each, another, as though from a station in the centre of the chimney-piece, struck up "meet me by moonlight," in notes the sweetest and silveriest imaginable, and the dozen strokes that followed were like the long plaintive tones of an eolian harp. before they were quite over, a peal of tiny bells began tinkling. fairies tripping with bells at their feet could hardly have made lighter or quicker music. i began to think that a troop of that fabulous fraternity were actually in the apartment--that a host of little elves were capering about, not only with bells to their feet, but clocks to their stockings! "can these be clocks?" i asked myself! "whatever the others may be, this surely is no clock!"--but the unpleasant suspicion had no sooner crossed my brain, than the bell-ringing ceased, and one, two, three--yes, twelve fine-toned strokes of a clock were distinctly audible. "it _is_ a clock," i whispered--but this conviction scarcely lessened the mystery, which, though amusing, was ill-timed. i would have preferred any glimmer of a rushlight to darkness, and sleep to any musical entertainment. the wish had hardly time to form itself before another clock struck close by me, and between every stroke of the twelve came a sort of chirrup, which at a more suitable hour i should have thought the prettiest note in the world, but which was now considerably more provoking than agreeable. i looked, but still saw nothing. i put my hand out and felt about--it touched something smooth--glass, evidently glass--and the fear of doing damage would have been sufficient to deter me from prosecuting my researches in that direction, even if my attention had not been at that instant summoned away, by a sudden volley of sounds that made my very heart leap, and transfixed me to the couch breathless with wonder and alarm. this was the simultaneous striking of at least half-a-dozen more clocks in various parts of the room. some might be large, and some tiny enough, some open and some inclosed in cases; for the tones were manifold, and of different degrees of strength; but no two clocks--if clocks they were, which i doubted, were constructed on the same principle, for each seemed to strike upon a plan of its own--and yet all went on striking together as though doomsday had arrived, and each was afraid of being behind time, and too late to proclaim the fact! one of these, a very slow coach, kept striking long after the others had ceased; and before this had finished, off went a clock in the corner that was furthest from me, sending such a short sharp, rapid sound into the apartment, that i strained my eyes yet a little wider than ever, half in expectation of being able to see it. on it went striking--"six"--"nine, ten"--"twelve, thirteen!" what! "nineteen, twenty!" there was no mistake in the reckoning--"twenty-four!" what, twice twelve! yes, three times and four times twelve! still it went on striking;--strike, strike, strike! how i wished, in that darkness, that it would strike a light! still the same sound; one monotonous metallic twang reverberating through the room, and repeating itself as though it were impossible to have too much of a good thing. that clock seemed to be set going for ever--to be wound up for eternity instead of time. it appeared to be labouring under the idea that doomsday had indeed arrived--that it was no longer necessary to note and number the hours accurately--that the family of the clocks were free--that the old laws which governed them were abolished--and that every member of the body was at liberty to strike as long as it liked, and have a jolly lark in its own way! strike, strike--still it persevered in its monotony, till, just as i had made up my mind that it would never stop, it stopped at about a hundred and forty-four, having struck the hour twelve times over. but two or three more competitors, whether from the walls of the room, from the chimney-piece, or the tables, had set out practising with wonderful versatility before the lengthened performance just alluded to had quite concluded; nor was it until nearly half-an-hour had elapsed since the church clock, the leader of the strike, had struck twelve--the hour which i had declared by the beard of old father time to be passed and gone--that an interval of silence occurred, and peace again prevailed through the intense darkness of the apartment. yet, can i call it peace? it was only peace comparatively; for my ear now sensitively awake to catch even the faintest whisper of a sound, and all my senses nervously alive in expectation of another convulsion amongst the clock-work, i became conscious of noises going on around me, to which, on first lying down, free from suspicion of the near neighbourhood of mystery, my ear was utterly insensible. i detected the presence of a vast multitude of small sounds distributed through the room, and repeating themselves regularly with singular distinctness as i listened. my pulse beat quicker, my eyes rolled anxiously and then closed; but those minute noises, clear and regular, went on in endless repetition, neither faster nor slower. were they indeed the tickings of a hundred clocks--the fine low inward breathings of time's children! the speculation, little favourable to sleep, was suddenly cut short by another crash of sound, breaking in upon the repose; it was half-past twelve, and of the scores of clocks that had announced the midnight hour, one half now announced the march of thirty minutes more--some by a simple ding-dong, some by a single loud tick, others by chimes, and one or two by a popular air, or a sort of jug-jug like a nightingale. again i started up and listened--again i essayed to grope my way about the room, to find out by the test of touch, whether the place was indeed filled with time-pieces and chronometers, dutch repeaters and eight-day clocks. but so completely had the noises bewildered me, that i knew not which way to turn, and had i dared to wander, at the hazard of overturning some fancy table or curious cabinet, i should never have found my way back to my couch again. down upon it, therefore, i once more threw myself, and conscious still of the multitudinous tickings that seemed to people the apartment with sprites, not a span long, dancing in fetters, invoked kind nature's restorer, balmy sleep, and at length, nearly exhausted, dropped into a doze. this was but short-lived; for my ears remained apprehensively opened, although my eyes were sealed, and the pealing sound of the church-clock striking one awoke me again to a disagreeable anticipation of another general strike. once more i sought to penetrate with anxious gaze the profound darkness before me. "was it all a delusion?" i exclaimed. "have i been dreaming? is the room actually filled with clocks, or am i the victim of enchantment?" the answer came from the outside of the room--from the huge family dispenser of useful knowledge--the clock on the staircase, whose lengthened uhr-r-r-r-rh, preparatory to the stroke of one, was a warning worthy of the sonorous announcement. i felt it strike upon my heart--it convinced me that i had not dreamt--it foretold all--and i knew that the spirits of the clock would immediately be at work again. and to work they went fast enough--chimes and chirrups, merry-bells and moanings of birds--sometimes the cuckoo's note, sometimes the owl's hoot--the trickling of water-drops imitated now, and now the rattling of silver fetters--here a scrap of a melody, and there a shrill whistling cry;--all followed, in a tone thin or full, loud or weak, according to the construction of the unseen instrument--by the single stroke, proclaiming the hour of one! i sank back, with my eyes close shut, and my hands covering up my ears. what a long night had i passed in a single hour!--how many hours were yet to be counted before light, piercing the gloom, would reveal the mystery of the clocks, and point the way to deliverance--that is, to the door. at last there was quiet again, the tickings only excepted, which continued low and regular as before. sleep crept over me, interrupted only by the chimes, and other musical intimations at the quarters and the half-hour. and then came two o'clock, awaking me once more to a conviction that the hundred clocks--_if_ clocks--were wound up for the night; or that the spirits who were playing off their pranks--possibly in revenge for my "innocent imposition" touching the flight of time, and my irreverence towards the beard of that antiquarian--were resolved to show me no mercy. off they went, clock after clock--silver, copper, and brass all spoke out, separately and in concert--wheels within wheels went round, chain after chain performed its appointed functions--hammers smote, and bells rang--and then, at last, fidgetted out of my senses, and "fooled to the top of my bent," sleep as before came to my aid; broken at intervals; and at intervals bringing visions of time chained to the wall, and unable to stir a foot--of time flying along upon a railroad fifty miles an hour, leaving happiness behind mounted on a tortoise--of time's forelock, by which i would have fondly taken him, coming off in my hand because he wore a wig--of time shaving off his reverend beard, and starting away at the beginning of a new year, a gay, smart, glowing juvenile! * * * i found out in the morning that my young friend's father was that oddest of oddities, a collector of clocks--that he had a passion for them, seeking out a choice clock as a connoisseur seeks out a choice picture--that he was continually multiplying his superfluities--that he boasted clocks of every form and principle, down to the latest inventions--clocks that played the genteelest of tunes, and clocks that struck the hour a dozen times over as many different ways--and that there were eighty-five, more or less calculated to strike, in the apartment wherein i had--_slept_; in the clockery! a peep poetic at the age. by a. bird. oh when i was a little boy, how well i can remember, the jolly day we had upon the fifth of each november! but now the march of intellect has changed the matter quite, and boyhood's day of merriment is turned to sober night: his hoops are made of iron, like our ships upon the seas; from infancy to manhood now--from elephants to fleas[18], all life is hurry-scurry--toil--trouble, and contentions: oh, what an age we live in! with its wonderful inventions! but yesterday--and granite paved our good old london town, now patent wood is all the go--and nothing else goes down, excepting horses by the score, yet that's a trifle too- we only wait perfection in a "horse's patent shoe." we talk by electricity--we've got an infant "steam" who smokes, and with an iron rod he drives a pretty team, and a pretty pace he goes! the boy! and a pretty power is his! beware, my gentle reader, or he'll flatten out your phiz. oh, what an age is this! how very wonderful and new! our bridges once were always square, now half are built askew. our horses once were taught to draw a something at their tails, a coach, or cart, or gig--but now, another mode prevails; the horse is _trained_ to stand within a carriage of his own, and while he eats a bit of hay some forty miles are done. there are wonders upon wonders whichever way one peeps; they say _our_ poor are starving, yet, _lascars_ are turned to sweeps. our cattle-shows are wonders too--the fat out-weighs the meat, which is, no doubt, for tallow good--detestable to eat!- oh, what an age is this--for beasts!--how wonderful and new with wire just fit for binding corks, we've built a bridge at kew[19]! [20]breakwaters now are taught to float, and (per comparison, id est) they'll cost the nation but a song, yet be much better than the best, (to say thus much--this wonder tell--i know those lines exceed, but when the _piper's_ paid by _bull_, for extra feet i plead;) to[21]_maccheroni_ 'taties change! your niger men declare (for want of something better, _q_?) "they are the best of fare." young _steam_ has swamped the wherries, which is "wery" sad for those who tell unto "the funny club" their miserable woes "how steamers run the river down--and boats by hundreds too"- "in this inwentive, vicked hage"--so wonderful and new! exchequer bills were sometime held much safer than the bank, now holders find they've only held a monstrous ugly blank. the very piles[22] which once were driven one inch within the hour, now go the pace, the railroad pace! by some mechanic power. within a little--ay--alas! and ere its pipes are old, bright bude will come and gas will pass, "e'en as a tale that's told." then we shall see!--i wonder what! 'tis dazzling quite to think, "i'm downright dizzy with the thought"--i'm standing on a brink, it turns my brain! this age so economical and new, when tories, like our steamers, try--to go the pace, and--_screw_! "and said i that my eyes were dim" with glories dazzling bright! when i confess my rising thoughts, you'll say that well they might. this age, methought, this wondrous age must understand the thing, since england's queen--our blessed queen--outshines each former king! may heaven unite this wondrous age in one harmonic whole! i pray and hope--and think it will--i do upon my soul. e'en hand-bills match the mighty _times_; tho' strip them from the walls, miss kemble and her norma would soon paper up st. paul's. god bless, say i, the queen i love--her loving subjects too- and with this universal prayer i bid the age--adieu! footnotes: [footnote 18: vide "the industrious fleas"--play-acting elephants, &c., &c., &c.] [footnote 19: this, i fear, is a poetic fiction, but nearer the truth than usual--the wire suspension bridge is at hammersmith.] [footnote 20: vide capt. tayler's prospectus for floating breakwaters--an invention which really promises to save our ships and purses too.] [footnote 21: taste and try the "granulated potato," which in its way, promises much! i have seen a letter from the niger expedition wherein it is praised up to the african skies.] [footnote 22: this may be seen in action on the surry side of the river opposite hungerford market--that is, when you can get there without being drowned in the floods.] a still-life sketch. "still, still i love thee,--love thee, love thee, still."--_la sonnambula_ he stood among the mossy rocks beside a highland waterfall, and wrung his hands and tore his locks, and cursed the gaugers one and all. behind him was a ruined hut, its walls were levell'd with the ground, and broken rafters black with soot, and staves of tubs, were scatter'd round. with streaming eyes adown the glen he fix'd his gaze--i look'd, and lo! along the road a band of men, with horse and cart, were moving slow. upon my life, it made me shiver to hear him shriek with frantic yell, "fare-thee-well,--and if for ever. _still_, for ever fare-thee-well!" sholto. a tale of an inn. "uncommon high the wind be tonight, sure-ly," remarked the occupier of the seat of honour on the left side of the fire-place in the jolly drummer, on the night of a boisterous 31st of march--"uncommon;" and as he spoke he uncrossed his legs, and resting his left hand which held his long pipe upon his knee, stretched out his right to a little triangular table that stood before the fire, stirred a more than half-finished tumbler of warm rum-and-water which was standing on one of the corners, shook the drops off the spoon, and having placed it on the table, raised the tumbler to his mouth, and in another minute set it down again empty, save the thin slice of lemon which had been floating about in the liquor. having done this, he threw himself back in his seat, tucked his feet under it, and there crossed them, wriggled his right hand into his breeches' pocket, and resting his left elbow on the arm of the high-backed form or "settle" on which he was seated, puffed away in quiet enjoyment of his pipe. per--per--per. "it do blow above a bit, and that's all about it," returned a little man who was seated in an old windsor chair opposite, as, having filled his pipe, he commenced lighting it with a piece of half-burnt paper that he had taken from the hob, and spoke between the strong puffs of smoke which curled upwards from his mouth during the operation. "i never--per--per--remember--per--sich a night--per--per--as this here--per--leastways for the time o'year--per--per--per--but once, per--and that was," said he, having now got his pipe well lighted, and letting himself gradually sink back in his chair, "and that was in the year--'37, when, as you remember, master tyler," looking at his friend opposite, "the mails was all snow'd up; but that was a trifle earlier in the year too, that was--let me see--oh ay, werry little tho'; why it was on the--yes, it was, on the 24th of this very month, and so it was." "ay, ay," replied tyler, "i remember it, be sure i do; and, bless you, i thought ve vas all a-going to be fruz up in our beds, as sure as i'm a-sitting here. but now, vhat i vas a-thinking of, vas, that this here night never comes round but what i thinks of what happened to me vun blowing 31st o' march. it makes me shake a'most, too, a-thinking on it," continued he, looking up at a large tadpole-looking clock, which, with its octangular face, assured all the company that it wanted but a quarter of an hour of midnight. "what was that?" exclaimed all the circle; "give us that tale, master tyler, a-fore we parts." "vell, then," said tyler, touching his empty glass, "let's prepare for it." upon this hint, one of the party, the host of the jolly drummer himself, rapped the table with his broad fist and shouted "hollo there," which process brought upon the scene "mary, the maid of the inn," whom master tyler requested to fill his glass, and "do the same for that gem'man opposite." she accordingly retired with the empty glasses, and as she is now out of the room, which we know to be the case from the whir-r-r-r bang! of the weighted door, we will take the opportunity before she comes back of describing the house and company. the jolly drummer was a small public-house at the extreme end of a little scattered village; its situation on the verge of an extensive heath, and detached from the other cottages, would have given it a lonely appearance but for its background of a few trees, and two or three old stunted oaks before the door, between two of which was the horse-trough, and from the branches of the third swang the old and weather-beaten sign, creaking to and fro in the wind; the hay scattered about the trough, or whirled in air by the wind, and the wicker crate which stood at the door by the side of the mounting steps, together with a pail and mop, gave indications of a pretty-well frequented house. if anything more was wanting to establish the fact, on this night, besides two or three light carts, a heavy stage-waggon might be seen rearing its giant bulk against the dark sky with its shafts erect, and the unlit stable-lantern still skewered in the front. the interior presented a more lively and comfortable appearance, at least in the room with which we are principally concerned. here a fire of a few coals, overlaid with large logs, crackled and spluttered in the grate round which the party was assembled, two of whom we have already introduced. upon the same high-backed form or settle, on which master tyler sat, were seated three other men, two of whom belonged to the waggon without, and the third was a small short man, who said little, but seemed to imbibe all master tyler uttered with great reverence. on the opposite side of the fire, besides the little man in the windsor chair, were two others, the one the blacksmith, and the other the cobbler of the village. sitting opposite to the fire, and so as to complete the circle round it, sat the stout landlord himself, looking round at his guests and attending to their wants (as we have seen) with the consciousness of being "well-to-do" in the world. on the little triangular table stood a quart mug "imperial measure;" a brass candlestick, bent through age, holding a thin tallow candle: a large pair of snuffers, lying by their side bottom upwards, was scored with the marks of a bit of chalk, half-crushed among the tobacco ashes, and a dirty pack of cards, gave the observer every proof that the two waggoners had but lately been engaged in the favourite game of "all-fours." the room in which this company had met was low and square, boasting as furniture a few windsor chairs, a square deal table edged with iron, and supported by trussel-like legs, in addition to the before-mentioned little triangular one, another of which latter description was seen in a distant corner, a dresser standing against the wall opposite the fire, and a tall cupboard by its side; the window on the left side of the room was shaded by a checked curtain, which waved mournfully under the influence of the gusts of wind that managed to find their way through the closed lattice. a few such pictures as "the lovely florist," and the "happy fruiterer," with rounded limbs and flowing drapery, painted with bright colours on glass, decorated the walls, and the mantel-shelf was decked with the usual ornaments of peacocks' feathers, brass candlesticks, tin stands for pipe-lighters, flour and pepper-boxes, a coffee-pot, and two lines painted on the wall recording, with the day and date, how "thomas swipes, jacob swillby, and james piper, drank at one sitting in this room twelve quarts of ale." such was the room and its contents on the 31st march, 18--, and a blowing night it was. the whir-r-r-bang again of the door announces mary to have returned with the replenished glasses, and as she is retiring she is arrested by the voice of master tyler, who calls out to her--"vait a bit, mary, i knows you're fond of a tale; you may as vell sit down and listen, for i dare say you never heerd a better, tho' i says it, and that's a fact--that's to say, if the company has no objections," added tyler. they all seemed to agree with master tyler in admitting mary into the circle, and accordingly made room for her next to her master, the host. all these preliminaries being arranged, master tyler having just tasted his new glass of grog, thus began:-"let me see, it vas about the year 1817 ven i fust vent to be ostler at the vite swan, stevenage, for i _vas_ a ostler vonce, gem'men, that i vas; you remember the time, juggles?" continued he, addressing the little man opposite (who answered with an "ay," and a nod of the head). "old dick styles used to vork the old highflier thro' stevenage at that time, and _he_ vos as good a coachman as here and there vun; but howsumever, that ain't got nothink to do vith my story. i vas a-saying it was my fust night in the yard, and in course i had to pay my footin'. vell, old tom martin was the boots; he as come arterwards to our place, you know, juggles?" ("ay," answered the little man again, as he looked meditatingly at the fire;) "and me and him," continued tyler, "sat up in the tap a-drinking and smoking and that, and a precious jolly night of it ve had, i can tell you! there vas peter scraggs, and as good a chap he vos as ever stepped, and vun or two more good jolly coves as you'd vish to see; vell, ve got a chaffin, and that like, ven tom says to me, says he, 'tyler,' ses he, 'you arn't been here long,' ses he, 'but maybe you've a heerd o' that old chap up yonder.' 'vot old chap?' ses i. 'vhy him on his beam-ends,' ses he a-laughing, and all the t'others laughed too, for i heerd arterwards that that vas his joke. 'veil,' ses i, 'as i vas never here afore, t'aint _werry_ likely as i have heerd of 'un; but who is he?' 'vhy,' ses he, 'he vas an old grocer as lived in this here town o' stevenage,' ses he, 'years and years ago,' ses he; 'and left in his vill[23] vhen he died,' ses he, 'that he vouldn't be buried, not he, but be box'd up in his coffin and highsted up a-top o' the beams of his "hovel," as _he_ called it; but a barn it is, that's sartain,' ses he. 'nonsense,' ses i; 'you ain't a-going to come over me in that there style vith your gammon,' ses i. 'gammon or no,' ses tom, 'if you've a mind you may see him yourself,' ses he; leastvays you may see his oak coffin,' ses he. 'seein's believin',' ses i, 'all over the world,' ses i, 'so here goes;' and up i gets, and tom, he gets up too, and vun or two others, and ve goes out; and tom, he catches holdt of a stable lantern, and picks up vun o' them poles with a fork at the end--them things vot the vashervomen hangs their lines upon ven they dries the clothes--and ve valks into a stable-like place as had been a barn, and tom he hooks the lantern on to the pole, and holds it up, and there sure enough _vos_ the coffin, a stuck up in the roof a top o' two beams. "it's as true as i'm a-sitting here," continued tyler, as he observed symptoms of incredulity in some of his auditors; "it's as true as i'm a-sitting here; and vot's more, you may see it there yourselves in that werry place to this werry day if you like to go as far. vel, as i vos a saying, i looks up, and ses i, 'i'm blessed if it ain't a coffin,' ses i. 'ay,' says tom and the others, 'now you'll believe it, von't you?' 'sartainly i vill,' ses i, 'now i sees it; but i'm blow'd if i didn't think you had been a-going on with some game or another,' ses i. "vell, ve come back agen to the tap, and ve sat there a-talking over that there old man and his rum fancy of being cocked up there, and vot not, till ve'd had enough, and thought it time to be off; it was then about half-past eleven. so tom says, ses he, 'i'll show you vhere you are to hang out, tyler,' ses he; so he takes me out in the yard and shows me my nest over the stable, and i'm blessed if it warn't the wery next to the vun with the old man. 'pretty close company,' ses i to myself, 'anyhow;' but howsumdever i never _said_ nothink, not i, in case he should think that i was afeerd arter vot he'd a' been saying and that; so up i goes vith the lantern, up the ladder, but i couldn't for the life of me help a-thinking of old harry trigg, (that vos the old feller's name, him in the coffin.) vel, however, i turns in at last, and i hadn't been in bed more nor ten minutes at most, ven i heerd a kind of a----" "mercy! what's that!" exclaimed mary, as the sign-board outside seemed to take part in the tale, and groan uneasily in the wind. "don't be foolish, mary," said my host, scarcely less frightened; "what should it be but the old sign? don't interrupt master tyler again, there's a good lass." "vell, i heerd a kind of a creak," resumed the speaker, with a scarcely perceptible smile, "and i listened, and presently i thought i heerd a groan. vell, i didn't much like it, i can tell you; however, i thought as it vos all imaginairy like, and vos jist a turning round in my bed to get a more comfortabler position--" "snuff the candle," suggested juggles to the blacksmith in a low tone, who did it mechanically, scarcely taking his eyes off the speaker the while. "vhen i heerd a woice," (here there was a breathless silence among the auditors,) "i heerd a woice, a low woice it vere, say, wery slowly, 'i don't like it.' vell, ven i heerd the woice, i gets a bit more plucky like; 'for,' thinks i, 'arter all it may be some vun in difficulties.' so i ses, ses i, 'vot's the row, sir?' 'tyler,' ses the woice, a'-calling me by name, 'tyler,' ses he, 'i vish i hadn't done it.' 'done vot?' ses i; for since he culled me by my name i vos a little quieter. 'vy,' ses the woice, 'a' got myself cocked up here,' ses he. ses i, 'vhy don't you get down then?' ses i. ''cause i can't,' ses he. 'vhy not?' ses i. ''cause i'm screwed down in my coffin,' ses he." here a scream, half-suppressed, broke from mary. "'my eye!' ses i to myself, and i shook all over--'it's the old man hisself,' and i pops my head under the bed-clothes precious quick, i can tell you; for i vos in a bit of a stew, as you may guess. vell, presently i heerd the old man a calling out again; but i never answered a vord, not i. vell, arter that i hears a kind of a rustling and scratching on the t'other side o' the planks close to vhere i vos a-laying. 'that's him,' thinks i; 'but he can't come here, that's clear.' 'can't i tho'!' says the werry same woice close to my feet, this time. oh crickey, how i did shake sure-ly at that there. 'tyler!' ses he, calling out loud. 'tyler,' ses he, 'look up;' but bless you, i never spoke nor moved. 'tyler,' ses he agen, a-hollering for all the vorld as loud as thunder, 'john tyler look up! or it'll be the vurse for you.' so at that i puts the werry top o' my eyes over the bed-clothes, and there i saw----" "what?" exclaimed the blacksmith and cobbler, under their breath at the same instant. the narrator looked around; juggles was leaning forward in his chair, his open hand scarce holding his pipe, which, in the eagerness of his curiosity he had let out; the blacksmith and cobbler were, with eyes and mouth wide open, intently watching the speaker's face; mine host, with both fists on the table, was not a whit less anxious; mary was leaning on the shoulder of one of the waggoners, with outstretched neck towards tyler, drinking in every word he uttered; and the two waggoners, perfectly wrapped up in the tale, stared vacantly at the opposite wall. "what?" repeated the anxious hearers. master tyler took his pipe from his mouth, and puffing out a long wreath of smoke, at the same time pointing with his pipe to the clock, which was just on the quarter past twelve, said--"nothink! and you're all april fools!" ali. [illustration] footnote: [footnote 23: this will was proved in the archdeaconry of huntingdon, sept. 18, 1724.] "such a duck!" once venus, deeming love too fat, stopp'd all his rich ambrosial dishes, dooming the boy to live on chat, to sup on songs, and dine on wishes. love, lean and lank, flew off to prowl- the starveling now no beauty boasted- he could have munch'd minerva's owl, or juno's peacock, boil'd or roasted. at last, half famish'd, almost dead, he shot his mother's doves for dinner; young lillie, passing, shook her head- cried love, "a shot at you, young sinner!" "oh not at me!"--she urged her flight- "i'm neither dove, nor lark, nor starling!" "no"--fainting cupid cried--"not quite; but then--you're such a--duck--my darling!" l. b. frank heartwell; or, fifty years ago. by bowman tiller. chapter xi. an awful but instructive scene is the death-bed of the guilty. shipkins experienced, by anticipation, the agonizing terrors of a future state. despair took possession of his mind; but it was the despair of the coward who trembles to meet his judge, and not that of the penitent, who, prompted by hope, implores for mercy. he had lived a desperate life of crime, and his hearers shuddered as vivid recollection of the past seemed to flash upon him like sudden visions forcing him to reveal the enormities he had perpetrated. his account, as far as it went, of lieutenant heartwell, was briefly this,--that brady coveted his wealth for the double purpose of enriching himself, and carrying on those treasonable practices in which he was deeply involved--on the day of the lieutenant's disappearance, he had, after the departure of the bank agent, been encouraged to drink--the wine was drugged, and took its full effect. shipkins had himself personated heartwell in the hackney-coach affair, having previously stripped the lieutenant, and substituted the naval uniform for his own apparel,--and the evidence given by the coachman was perfectly correct. after alighting in ormond street, shipkins crossed over into great ormond yard, where he concealed himself in one of the stables which had been taken for the occasion, having a light cart and horse in readiness to further their schemes. here he was shortly afterwards joined by brady with his clothes, for which the lieutenant's were immediately exchanged, the horse was put into the cart, they drove to lincoln's inn, and having deposited mr. heartwell in it, they conveyed him--still in an insensible state--as well as the notes, gold, and documents, to the very cottage they were then in. here a sudden spasm seized the dying man--he gasped convulsively--an internal hemorrhage was going on, that threatened suffocation,--and it may readily be supposed, that intense anxiety pervaded every one present. mrs. heartwell had listened almost breathlessly,--every word that was uttered made its due and deep impression on her heart--she sat like a statue--no relieving tear started to her eye, for the fever of agonised expectation had dried the source of tears--no sigh, no groan escaped her, till the expiring shipkins stopped, and then extending her hands, as she looked at the contorted and ghastly features of the clerk, her voice found utterance, and clasping her hands in earnest entreaty, she exclaimed,-"oh, let him not die--hold--hold--yet, a little longer life that he may tell us all. heavenly father, in pity spare him, till his conscience is unburthened, and then in mercy pardon his offences." frank supported his mother, and tried to calm her perturbation, though his own spirit was on the rack, as he now concluded that his conjectures were correct, and beneath the same roof which they were then under, his gallant father had been murdered. it was a moment of trying suspense to all, and eagerly they watched the surgeon exercise his skill, as, raised up by ben, the close of shipkins' career seemed fast approaching--they had as yet heard nothing of the lieutenant's fate, nor had any information been rendered relative to brady's place of concealment, and what had been communicated served rather to excite greater agitation than to allay that which had already been caused. the surgeon had requested every one to remain silent, and the stillness was only broken by himself as he gave directions to ben, (but even these were given in whispers,) and the struggles of the dying man, who, grasping at the air, as if he would clutch another victim, muttered unconnected sentences. it was an appalling spectacle--loud and piercing was his shriek as he caught ben's arm, and grasped it with a desperate grasp, as the only stay in life,--wild and imploring was his look as he tried to speak, but the words could not find utterance. it was only for a moment--a yell of agony succeeded, and in a few minutes his limbs were stiffening in the rigidity of death. but what language can picture the distress of mrs. heartwell and her son, at the disclosure's being so prematurely cut off, and that too in so fearful a manner! frank tried to lessen the disappointment and grief of his parent; but she who had all along cherished hope, now enfeebled by circumstances that had preyed upon her mind, and weighed down by the pressure of the evidence which shipkins had given, seemed sinking into despair. it was past midnight when the wretched man ceased to exist. no one thought of repose, except the surgeon, who accustomed to witness the flight of the departed spirit, retired to his home; but mr. wendover remained at the cottage, endeavouring to tranquillise the lady's mind. morning had not yet broke, when the sound of horses' hoofs were heard upon the common; but they suddenly ceased at the garden-gate, and the bell was violently rung. frank and ben grasped their pistols, and immediately went out to answer the summons. the horseman had dismounted, and being questioned, said "he was the bearer of a letter to lieutenant heartwell that required instant attention." the letter was handed through the bars--frank saw that the superscription was addressed to himself, and breaking the seal, he ascertained that the signature was that of mr. unity peach. the letter was characteristic of the writer, and ran thus:- "sir,--strange doings--caught sight of brady last night--pursued (chased, you would call it)--followed him to a house in hoxton--madhouse--sent for the constables, and put them on watch--cannot enter without a warrant--they will not open the doors.--hasten hither (bear a hand, you would say)--let us have no delays--the badger is trapped at last, and it will require a good dog to draw him.--the bearer of this will tell you whereabouts to find me. yours, unity peach." there was nothing in this curious epistle that might not be communicated to mrs. heartwell, and frank at once related the occurrence, and urged the necessity of his immediate compliance. his mother not only acquiesced, but wished to accompany him, and probably would have done so, had not mr. wendover dissuaded her from it. the pony-chaise was put in requisition, but the merchant sent to the hall for his own post-chariot, in which himself and frank departed, the messenger riding on before as conductor. a gloomy daylight had opened on them when they reached their destination--a small public-house--where they found mr. peach, who was impatiently awaiting their arrival. from him they learned that he had on the previous afternoon been to a lunatic asylum in the neighbourhood of hoxton, for the purpose of visiting "brothers the prophet" (who had been removed thither during some temporary repairs at fisher's), and did not leave that place till late in the evening, when on passing out at the gates, a man alighted from horseback, his face ashy pale, with a small stream of blood running down it; he was much bespattered with mud, as if he had fallen, and was evidently in a state of great excitement; the horse, too, appeared to have been ridden hard. mr. peach had to draw himself up on one side to allow of his passing, and the porter holding up his lantern in order to ascertain who the visitor was, revealed to mr. peach the features of brady--especially as on observing him there was the strange and peculiar expression of the eye. the first impulse of the detector was to seize the lawyer, but his usual caution arrested his hand, and he suffered him to pass onward, which as soon as he had done, the porter led in the horse, and mr. peach having walked out, the gates were closed behind him. certain of the personal identity, and pondering the circumstance in his mind, the old gentleman determined to watch till some one should pass whom he might employ in sending for a constable, but it was long before any one approached that lonely and dreary abode. at length the horn of the night-patrol (who volunteered for recompense to conduct passengers across the fields) was heard, and mr. peach ran towards him and communicated his earnest request that an efficient force might be immediately sent to apprehend a felon who had taken shelter at a residence in the neighbourhood. this was accompanied by a present of money, with the promise of still greater reward, both public and private, if the villain was apprehended. the patrol performed his duty, and in a short time several peace-officers were in attendance, and an attempt was made to gain admission into the house, but without avail; its iron-barred windows and strong doors set attack at defiance. the constables had consequently been placed upon the watch round the building all night, to prevent escape. such was the position of affairs when frank and mr. wendover arrived. the merchant resolved to act in his official capacity, and demand an entrance. they were soon at the doors, and a summons being given, mr. wendover explained the object of their visit. the porter, in reply, declared that no person of the name of brady was there, nor was he at all acquainted with the individual alluded to. "false!" exclaimed mr. unity peach, "saw him myself--went in as i came out last night--muddy, dirty--cut face--know him well." "that gentleman, sir," replied the porter, "that was mr. bartlett, the principal proprietor of this establishment." looks of doubt and perplexity passed between frank and mr. wendover; and the latter, after a short hesitation, remarked, "if that is the case he can have no objection to grant us an interview." "i fear," returned the man, "that you cannot see him; he had a severe fall last night from his horse, and is much injured in the head--indeed is now almost insensible." mr. wendover once more questioned peach, and the latter persisted in the most positive manner that it was brady whom he had seen go in. "well, then, it is utterly useless delaying," said the merchant; "and i now as a magistrate demand an entrance: if it is not complied with, i will upon my own responsibility force the doors." "i will consult my superior," said the porter, returning from the gate. in a few minutes he returned, and stated that he was directed to give free admission to the magistrate, and a few whom he might select to accompany him. a strange feeling came over frank as he entered this abode of tortured spirits; for the mad-houses of those days were seldom inspected, and many a victim to avarice and villany had been confined within their walls[24]. the secrets of the "prison-house" were never disclosed, for the unhappy creatures were incarcerated for life; sometimes they would indeed be driven mad, but death alone gave them release from torment. a respectable-looking elderly man met the party, and after apologies and explanations, announced that "mr. bartlett's injuries from his fall were very serious, and throughout the night he had been labouring under an attack of brain-fever, which he hoped was subsiding, though he was still subject to restraint." "i have only the furtherance of justice in view," said mr. wendover; "he has been sworn to in the most positive manner, and i must see him." "the appearance of so many persons may be hazardous to his existence," replied the other submissively; "if it is a mere matter of identity, more than two or three will not be required." the arrangement was made, and mr. wendover, mr. peach, and frank, were conducted through several passages, till they arrived in a part of the building where the most violent maniacs were confined; here in an apartment, whose entrance might have almost defied detection, they beheld a man in a strait-waistcoat, stretched upon a mattress upon the ground with two keepers in attendance to awe him into subjection. his countenance was haggard and flushed, and there was a tiger-like ferocity in his look, that claimed but little semblance to humanity; he was still raving, and his wild unnatural laugh thrilled with horror through the frames of the visitors. mr. wendover and unity peach were the first to enter, but he took no notice of them. frank followed; and the moment he was visible, the individual whom they had come to see drew himself up as if his whole frame were withering with sudden blight, and he convulsively and hissingly drew his breath, like one who has suddenly been plunged into cold water. "what! there again?" muttered he, as he fixed his gaze on frank, whose strong likeness to his father, and in the naval uniform too, had induced a belief that the spirit of his victim stood in his presence; whilst the peculiar rolling of the man's eyes instantly betrayed that brady was before them; "but," and he laughed wildly, "i defy you--the judge cannot take the evidence of the dead." he raised his voice--"hence--depart, i say--no earthly tribunal can take cognizance of your oath, and so far i am safe." he turned to peach and demanded--"who and what are you?--how came you here?--who has dared to let you in?--speak--who are you?" slowly mr. peach removed his hat and wig, and the patch from his eye. "i knew i was right," said he: "brady, do you know me now?" "well, well," returned the lawyer quietly, "this is kind of you, too--more than i expected--but how did you find me out--come, come, friend shaft, sit down; we will not heed yon spectre," his aberration took another turn. "ha," he shouted, "it is you who have betrayed me, old man; traitor! monster! it is you who have denounced your friend. acteon shaft, i defy you to the very teeth." "it is enough that you now recognise me," responded the other; and turning to mr. wendover, added, "you may perceive, sir, that my information was correct." brady's ravings and struggles became dreadful; the attendants could with difficulty hold him down till overwrought nature brought a crisis, and he sank in strong convulsions. the young lieutenant's feelings it would be impossible to describe, as he looked upon the supposed murderer of his father, and fears began to arise that he should again be deprived of the information he so earnestly desired. an hour elapsed before brady was recovered from his fit, which left him weak and exhausted, but restored to consciousness and to a sense of his perilous situation: still the inveterate and hardened criminal was unsubdued, and retained all the craftiness of his character. mr. wendover addressed him in energetic language. frank earnestly implored him to reveal all he knew of the fate of his parent, but the wily man "denied all knowledge of the lieutenant beyond placing him in the hackney-coach." "shipkins has been taken," said mr. wendover, "and he has confessed--?" "what, what has he confessed?" eagerly demanded the lawyer; and then slowly added, "his confessions are worth nothing; i do not fear them; leave me to myself, and let the law take its course." "brady! brady!" exclaimed unity peach, now revealed as the celebrated acteon shaft, through whose means government had been enabled to defeat the treasonable designs of the disaffected, "do not, do not go into the presence of your maker with a lie upon your tongue. tell us what became of lieutenant heartwell. you have not long to live, why should you refuse this act of justice to those whom you have so deeply injured--they have discovered the concealed property?" "ha," uttered brady, like one struck with mortal agony, "question me no further; i will not answer you." he looked towards one of the attendants inquiringly, and the man made some sign in return, but both were scarcely perceptible. "is there nothing will prevail with you," said the young officer in deep distress; "will not a mother's tears--the supplications of a son--" [illustration: _the death of brady and discovery of frank's father._ london. tilt & bogue. 86. fleet street.] "nothing, nothing," doggedly returned brady, "you have the property; your father you will see no more. hah!" he shrieked and started, fixing his blood-shot but rolling eyes at an aged-looking man, who was standing in the door-way. "hah! what! again betrayed?--'tis he--'tis he himself, and no delusion." the look of every one present was turned upon the object of the lawyer's terror. "it is, it is indeed he," uttered acteon shaft with deep emotion. "frank, it is your father." there cannot be any necessity for relating what ensued as frank fell himself in the embrace of his long-lost and affectionately-mourned parent! nor can it be required of me to tell the delight of mr. heartwell's spirit as, restored to freedom, he gazed with pride upon the handsome features and manly appearance of his son. those who have hearts alive to nature, have already pictured the whole, and my task is spared. mutual recognitions and hearty greetings for several minutes drew away attention from the wretch who had caused such long-protracted misery. on again turning towards him, he was in the same position, but his glassy eyes were fixed as if bursting from their sockets--he was dead. chapter xii. from the moment of her son's departure, mrs. heartwell suffered intensely from anxiety and suspense, which helen, who had come to stay with her, endeavoured to relieve. it was about noon when the party returned, and there was upon the countenances of all a glow of satisfaction and pleasure that could not be concealed from the keen penetration of her who sought to gather facts from looks. "what--what is it?" uttered she, as she strove to nerve herself to bear whatever intelligence they might bring; "tell me--tell me all." "my dear mother," said frank embracing her, "keep your mind calm--strange things have been revealed--my father's fate has been ascertained,--come, come, sit down and compose yourself. you shall know all." "a hidden mystery has been brought to light, my dear madam," said mr. wendover, quietly. "mr. heartwell has been heard of; but are you really able to endure whatever of joy or sorrow may betide--" "joy?--joy?" repeated she with eagerness, "is there then hope, that you use that term? do not keep me longer in suspense--it is becoming terrible, your countenances show no grief. tell me, ben, if i can learn it from no one else." the seaman looked at his mistress--his smile of exultation could not be mistaken; but dashing the rising spray from his eyes, he uttered, "lord love you, my lady, my heart's too full to overhaul it now; but what's the odds so as you're happy?" "can you bear an introduction to one who is able to explain every particular?" inquired mr. wendover; "exert yourself, you will stand in need of energy and strength." "it is--it must be," said the gasping lady, "there is something whispering it to my heart--a thought i have clung to through all my trials--a presage of his existence--he lives--say that he lives--i know it, and am firm!" she arose from her seat, and the next instant was pressed to the throbbing heart of her restored and tenderly loved husband. years of past pain enhanced the felicitous enjoyment of that moment, and it was long before composure was regained. the absent lieutenant's history may be briefly told. his first remembrance on recovering from stupor, was of a dark and dreary room,--in fact, the very one in which brady had expired,--here shut in from the world, and concealed from every eye but that of his keeper, he had dragged on his days a lengthened chain of galling misery, till days dwindled into nothing, and the links were extended to years. but happily for him much of it had been passed in delusion--his intellect had become impaired--and when he recovered consciousness, it was like the sudden awakening from a long and fearful dream. he remonstrated--insisted upon being set at liberty, but expressions of remonstrance, and attempts at resistance, were alike punished with severity. books he was allowed; but he had no one to converse with, except his keeper. when brothers was removed from fisher's, "the prophet" was considered so harmless, that very little restraint was laid upon him, and one of the keepers telling him, that a brother seaman was confined within the walls, he earnestly requested to be allowed an interview. after repeated solicitations, the keeper secretly complied, and it may be well supposed that the meeting was anything but sorrowful, for it afforded heartwell a hope that through the medium of his old acquaintance, he might yet escape. as the keeper was present during this, and several subsequent interviews, they could only converse on general topics, and when the fit was on him, brothers would prophesy. it was on one of these occasions that he gave heartwell an intimation of his designs, by saying, "what is man that he should be cared for--here to-day, and gone to-morrow--like the light that shineth out of darkness that quickly passeth away!" this was accompanied by significations that were readily understood, and hope revived the lieutenant's energies; but although unity peach, or more properly speaking, acteon shaft, had visited brothers more than once, yet the latter with cunning peculiar to himself had said nothing about heartwell, preferring to keep his intentions secret, so that they might not be frustrated, and fearing that if the slightest suspicion was excited, he should be subjected to greater restrictions. on the evening of brady's return with a fractured skull from the blow given him by frank (for such was the fact, and it is worthy of remark that both villains met their doom from the much-injured young man) brothers, who was roaming about, overheard directions and commands given by the lawyer to one of the keepers, to administer poison to heartwell, so that he might be entirely removed, and as he hoped the secret would perish with him. brothers, who had free access to all parts of the house, occasionally officiating as an assistant--now determined to put his scheme in practice, nor was a moment to be lost. amidst the confusion which prevailed through brady's mishap, brothers contrived to get the keys, and having by an artful message removed the porter, heartwell's cell was opened, and he passed through the passages unobserved to the outer gate. this was locked, and they had no key; there were however some planks on the ground, and by inclining one against the wall to a certain height, and then placing another on it, he contrived to get into the open fields, and in the darkness eluded the vigilance of the constables who had been set to watch. the glare of the atmosphere pointed out to him the direction of the metropolis, and thither he hastened, taking a straight direction for ormond-street, where he inquired for his family, but no one could give him intelligence respecting them. dispirited and disheartened, he went to the nearest watch-house, and informed the chief constable of the night who he was. this functionary happened to be a clever intelligent man, related to townsend the bow-street officer, and to his residence he was advised to go; heartwell went, engaged townsend's assistance, a warrant was promptly obtained, and they hurried back to hoxton. in the mean time, brady became more and more outrageous, and insisted on going to heartwell's cell to ascertain whether his orders had been executed: he found it empty; and judging from this that the lieutenant was no more, his reason became overpowered, delirium and violence ensued, and they were compelled to secure him where he then was. townsend and heartwell found no difficulty in gaining admission, and brothers conducted them to the cell, which was entered as already described. mr. wendover's full consent being obtained, frank's nuptials followed soon after this joyous re-union. youth, beauty, rank, and fashion graced the festival in the parlours and drawing-room of the hall, whilst ben and sambo, who had come up on purpose to the wedding, kept the kitchen guests in one continued round of merriment, till overpowered by respect for his master, veneration for his mistress, and attachment to frank, ben's brains began to whirl, his steps became exceedingly erratic as if his feet were mocking each other, and he was carried off to bed by sambo, where he was snugly deposited under the lee of his nightcap. "you for drinkee too much, massa ben," said sambo. "nem mind dis time, boy, young masser young missy, all golious and sing god shabe de king." "hur-rah, hurrah," hiccuped ben, as he strove to raise his head from the pillow. "hurrah, you beautiful--beauti--piece of ebony--hurrah i say--" down dropped his head. "wha-wats the odds so as you're happy!" footnote: [footnote 24: it is a strange anomaly in the present law, that, where two or more insane persons are confined, a license is required for the asylum; but if only one person is so confined, the keeper does not need a license. this might be remedied without touching private houses.] the postilion. "wo-ho-ho-ho-up--wo-ho!"--sweet public, you are now in the yard of the crown and cauliflower hotel, famous for posting, roasting, and accommodating the lieges with very lean bills of fare, and very fat bills of figures;--and you have listened to the lover-like tones, half-soliciting, half-imperative, with which our postboy brought his horses at once to a halt, at the hall-door of the crown and cauliflower. there he stands at your chaise-door, hand to hat, and whip couchant, soliciting your favourable notice. there stands the postboy, an important individual of the great family of the riders. he is much given to a white silk hat, with the silk worn off the rim in front, a white neckerchief, a white vest, a canary jacket, a small plaited shirt, and white corded unfit-for-finical-ladies-to-conceive-the-proper-ogatives of. the postboy is a jumble of contradictions; he is always rising in the world, yet he is as constantly finding his level; he has had more ups and downs than any other being; he is, at least, fifty-seven, but he has not yet arrived at manhood; should he complete the century, he will be as far off from it then as he is now; he is always a post_boy_; a boy post dated; he never reaches man's estate; he never knows its declension; he never sinks into second childishness; he lives and dies a postboy. we have heard of one, two, or three instances "down the road," where he saved one or two thousand pounds, and became a landlord. we think they are apocryphal. perhaps they occurred in the days of the highwaymen, by whom postboys have been known to profit. but whenever they occurred, or however, they are exceptions in the great chapter of postboys, proving that the will of fate has given to the postboy "a local habitation and a name"-if, indeed, there can be said to be anything local about his changing and yet monotonous existence--else he had walked about the world an embodied nonentity. he is a totally different being to the cantering gemini, the letter postboy and his horse; nor does he ever become "a postman." like tom moody, he radiates "through a country well known to him fifty miles round," yet little knoweth he besides the change-houses, and they, in his imagination, stand out in glorious array:--the pig and lapstone, the three leathern corkscrews, the manuscript and hatchet, the stork and ruffles, the waggon and shirtpin, the syllabub and pump, all of which, in motley succession, dance before his dozing eyes as so many havens from his peril;--the sole green spots that ornament the desert of his life. the postilion is a veritable centaur--a human quadruped partaking of the two natures, the stable and the bed and bolster, "three-pennorth o' brandy," and the nose-bag. he is a poet, superior to that genuine pastoral, the haymaker, if familiarity with apollo (and _if_ apollo be the sun) constitutes a poet. the sickle-wielder of autumn burns not with such fervid inspiration. look on his countenance--"that index to the soul"--and imagine how full of fire that soul must be, when the proverbial brevity of an index contains so much--"to overflowing full." his _genus_ stands out like a finger-post before him, introducing him to every circle. his soul is concentrated in the mews. talk of shakspere and owen glendower, they never carried such lights before them; even bardolph himself possessed not such a nasal flambeau. no! his is an inspired nose, and his nose knows it! and it loveth not, neither doth it abide, the familiarities of the aqueous element, but hisses in its ablutions, as a stable-boy hisses when he is cleaning a horse, thereby publishing its heat and its nosology. again, mark you his freckles--whoever saw such in the face of beauty? he is a character "alone in his glory," so far as his outward indications go. let us gauge the calibre of his understanding. we were in the tap of the sun and cabbage-stump when he called to "wet his whistle." a "boy" was there before him from the hand and placquet, drinking with "a return," said return being a runaway apprentice, and our postboy stopped with _his_ in the shape of a clandestine marriage. upon meeting, the following colloquy took place:-"well, tom, how goes it at the placquet, eh? i see ye up the road pretty often lately. i 'spose the old man an' her don't agree no better? ah! he shouldn't a married her." "that's nither here nor there with us, you know, bob, as long as there's plenty o' gemmen as wants our assistance; and, somehow, there's all'ays plenty on em' at the placquet--good payers too. th' old feller's terrible crabby, but she cocks her cap 'nation high, to be sure, an' she don't care--it suits _her_ better to look arter _her_ customers, eh?" "mum about them things, tom. i got a han'some young couple here going to be made one, an' we shouldn't put canker'd snaffles into young colts' chaps. there's nothin' very pleasant in rising blisters in the mouth--is there, sir?" (to our worthy self.) "you're the rummiest feller i ever come near, bob, to talk to the gemman a that way--you'd make a gallows good parson. but i s'pose you're comin' it feelin' like, an' mary scrabbles 'll soon be mrs. trotter?" at this repartee there was a general "he! he! he!" the runaway apprentice taking the alto part. "that young gemman's in a very good humour, ain't he, tom? i s'pose his mother know _he's_ out? a regular young lord in disguise, come out to 'stonish us gulpins; but if we had him on a flinty road, o' th' off side, at one or two o'clock of a winter's mornin', we could mek him drop his cock-tail, eh, tom? an' laugh o' th' other side o' his mouth." "order, order," as them parliament chaps say--"'tacking my constitent ain't nothin' about mary, you know, bob." "o, stow your chaff, an' i must be off. here's to your health, miss, wishin' ye much happiness; and your'n, sir, all the same; an' to the young gentleman there with the mint o' goold in his pocket, an' the kiddy side locks, an' th' pertikler purty count'nance when he laughs"--(he had a mouth like a park, and teeth like its palings)--"'oping he may never have the prison crop, nor th' lock jaw, nor the vituses dance to spile him, tom!" and a concurrent nod and wink at tom scarcely preceded the emptying of the glass of "brandy with," ere he departed. "mind ye don't break down at the horns, there," shouted the remaining "boy," having a sly fling at both parties as they rattled away, and dexterously conciliating his own. such is a specimen of his snap-dragon conversation, which partakes strongly of christmas nonsense--short and caustic, touch and go--the blazing gin and raisins of confabulation. the postilion seldom marries, but, in general, he does the insinuating to the cook at the inn where he tarries. the postboy has a tooth and a taste for a gastronomical relish; and though his strong stomach and long rides furnish his appetite with the best of all condiments, he can pout out his lips, and depress his eyebrows, at the plain and substantial fare which is allowed and provided for him, while his mouth waters for a portion of the luxuries preparing about him; therefore, whatever molly can pare and make, as convenience and opportunity offer, never comes either too late or too early for him. he imagines himself to be one of those who are reputed to be "awake to the world," and sooth to say, he distinguishes at a glance the character of his fare of either gender, and deports himself accordingly. he never takes more than his legitimate fare--if he cannot get it: nor will he ever annoy you with impertinence at his departure--if you have purchased his civility. he may, and frequently does, practise a little collusion with toll-gate keepers: thus, just as you are leaving the town where you hire your post-chaise, there is invariably a toll-bar; you pay there, and the postboy receives "a ticket," which frees you from payment at other bars on your line of route, set up to intercept the cross-roads, and so on, till you must pay again, on entering another "line of trust." a lucky dog are you, if you escape so; ten to one your postboy has "an understanding" with the keeper of one of the bars, whereat arriving, he bawls out, "_pay here!_"; or, if you have been very liberal "at mine inn," or to the last "boy," it varies to "pay here, your _honour_!" in notes as dulcet as his glottis will permit him, and draws up. "free to flatbit!" cries the tollman, as you comply with his demand, dash goes the rowel into the left flank of the near horse, and you are pursuing your course in blissful ignorance. as the postboy returns, he receives from his "friend," his share of your mulet, and enjoys his laugh literally at your expense. the postboy has been a person of importance--we say, has been; for, firstly, the flying stages, with their excellent accommodation, civil functionaries, and eleven miles an hour, more than decimated his "order;" then that northern leveller, macadam, exacted a triple tithe; and lastly, the iron-ribbed troughs and viaducts, everywhere throwing out arteries from the main trunks, and every individual inch growing, like a chopped centipede, into a perfect monster,--have almost annihilated him, so much so, that the next generation will set him down as an extinct animal, and, like the present with the dodo, will be able to find only his bill and his boots! still doth he retain some dignity, for, at a late general election, he headed the poll gallantly for the independent and patriotic borough of bullybribe; where the right honourable florian augustus finglefangle offered golden reasons for the suffrages of his father's tenantry, and those real bulwarks of the british empire--the potwallopers. notwithstanding, his glory has departed; those incorrigible dogs who rule the roast in the courts of law--cold, unyielding, unromantic civilians--have long decided not to recognise the mysteries of the gretna smithy; they have openly denounced the votaries of venus and vulcan; and one great part of the postboy's occupation is no more. _our_ postboy is not about to lead you, gentle reader, the tour of the continent; he is not about to familiarise you with banditti; he has no forests nor horrible gorges to lead you through; you must expect little from him beside what we have prepared you for; and, as we have exposed his trifling peccadilloes, we entreat you not to let your virtuous indignation overcome your liberality nor your gentlemanly bearing. probably, sir, you are fresh from the perpetration of rascalities which he would shrink from as being heinous crimes, but which you very complacently assure yourself were cleverly done to take in messrs. adderfeed and co. you are a shrewd fellow, doubtless, and "are not to be done," as you believe in your self-sufficiency;--let him try to impose payment of a toll on you, which you have no business to pay, and you wish they may get it, that's all! now, put it to your conscience--you have a conscience?--and compare your rascalities with his venialities: your "means and appliances" with his; and if conscience give the balance in your favour, why you are a worthy fellow, and ought not to be imposed on; but be careful; do not insist upon your bond; your memory may play truant, and, if it does not, you are certainly benevolent, nay, munificent, and will not stoop to such a paltry cavil. remember he is ever at your beck and command, hail, rain, or shine; high-road or bye-road; at hazy morn, or fervid noon, or dreary night; you have but to intimate your pleasure, and he is your humble servitor. in the stifling heat and dust of midsummer, and in the dreary sleet and howling winds of christmas, he is glad to administer to your business or pleasure. he never tires nor complains of his vocation. thrice has he been out in this day's heavy rain--the whole of his wardrobe is soaked--a month ago he rose from a bed of fever, induced by the same cause--yet are you waiting, the moment you hear his wheels, to order him off for another sixteen miles, and not a murmur will escape him, although it is now six at eve, the sun setting, and the wind "turning very cold." still will he lift his hat to you as deferentially as he did to his first fare, and comply with the same alacrity. the thousands who pass him in his progress think not of his cares nor his sorrows, his abundance or his want. he toils and moils like the rest, unconscious that the eyes and the mind of the philosopher--bright scintillations of heaven and eternity--may rest upon him at the same moment with those of the humble individual who hath here noted his characteristics and sketched his profile. jao. "the horse by the head." mr. and mrs. q. were discussing their financial resources--"i cannot make out," said the lady, "how it is that mr. x. contrives to keep such a large house and so many servants, and to live in such style. you are quite as clever, my dear, in your profession--ay, that you are--cleverer too, for that matter; and yet, with all your skill and perseverance, we are living, as it were, from hand to mouth. how is it?" "why, my love," said mr. q., "you see that x. has got the start: in fact, you see, my dear, he has got 'the horse by the head,' and i have only got him by the _tail_." [illustration] a floating recollection. in the year 1806, when the asia east indiaman was conveying a detachment of dragoons to madras, the ship encountered very severe weather. amongst the troops was a blithe "boy" named pat murphy, and he had also a pretty wife on board, who, instead of taking the roughs with the smooths, was continually upbraiding her husband. "arrah, pat, why did yez bring me here into this dark hole now? oh! whirrasthrue and it's smashed and kilt entirely i'll be in regard o' the say-sickness and the kicking of the ship." "och, cooshla-machree," returned pat, trying to soften her, "rest aisy, darling. shure an it was yerself as wanted to come and wouldn't stay behind. small blame to you for that anyhow, seeing that pat murphy's the man as owns you. but rest aisy awhile, an it's the bright sun and the smooth wather we'll get, and go sailing away like a duck over a pond." "oh, thin, pat, but it's little feeling you've got for my misfortunate state," uttered judy, as she burst into tears. "never again shall i see the green-hill tops tinged with the goulden glory of the sun--never again shall i thravail free-footed through the bogs and over the moors. oh! it's a dessolute woman i am this very day--och hone--och hone." this sort of complaining was continually repeated, till the temper of the warm-hearted irishman began to give way; but he struggled hard to bear up against her petulance and peevishness. one day, however, the gale increased to a downright hurricane--the ship had sprung a leak, the water was gaining on the pumps, the sea ran fearfully high, and it was evident, unless the storm abated, that the "asia must yield to the war of elements and go down." pat, who had been relieved from the pumps, contrived to get below to see judy, and was greeted with the usual reception. "haven't i been a faithful and thrue wife to yez? and here i am smothered with the say-sickness, an' the noise and the bother!" "an' how can i help it, judy?" remonstrated pat. "shure an i've done my best, and been a dootiful husband. i carn't conthrol the say or the ship as i would a horse upon the turf--long life to it--what would you have?" judy, however, still continued her clamour, till pat's patience was at length worn completely out, and he voiciferated in no very gentle voice, "och, thin, howld your peace, woman; is it meself as you'd be breaking the heart of afore i'm dead? arrah, rest aisy with yer tongue!" at this moment, a heavy sea struck the ship on the bows, ranged fore and aft, and rushed down every cavity, causing considerable confusion. judy shrieked and cried out, "oh! pat, an why did yez bring me here?" pat, who really thought the ship was sinking, turned round, and exclaimed with vehemence, "arrah, howld yer bodther, woman--you'll be a widdaw to-night." this terrible announcement of her becoming a widow silenced poor judy; and before pat was summoned to renew his labour at the pumps, she had thrown her arms about his neck, and in loving accents implored him to avert so dreadful a calamity. the storm abated--fine weather returned--judy grew more accustomed to the ship, but ever afterwards went by the name of "pat murphy's widow;" and it was nothing uncommon to hear both soldiers and sailors calling out, "pat, pat murphy, your widow wants you." the old sailor. [illustration: sheer tyranny. cropping a poor wanderer, who has slept one night in the croydon workhouse, before he is liberated in the morning.] [illustration: sheer tenderness. cropping a long-haired bacchanal, convicted at the mansion-house of drunkenness, instead of fining him.] the paupers' chaunt[25]. air:--"_oh the roast-beef of old england!_" o we're very well fed, so we must not repine, though turkey we've _cut_, and likewise the chine; but, oh! once a-year we should just like to dine on the roast-beef of old england, oh the old english roast-beef! o, the gruel's delicious, the taters divine- and our very small beer is uncommonly _fine_; but with us we think you would not like to dine, without the roast-beef of old england, oh the old english roast-beef! our soup's very good, we really must own, but of what it is made arn't very well known; so, without any soup we would much rather dine on the roast-beef of old england, oh the old english roast-beef! mince-pies they are nice, and plum-pudding is fine. but we'd give up them both for "ribs" or "sir line," if for once in the year we could but just dine on the roast-beef of old england, oh the old english roast-beef! "roast beef and plum-pudding" is true christmas fare, but they think that our _morals_ such dainties won't bear. oh! oh! it is plain ne'er more shall we share in the roast-beef of old england, oh the old english roast-beef. still long life to the queen is the toast we'd be at; with a health to the prince, may he live and grow fat! and may all under him have abundance of _that_- what?--why the roast-beef of england, oh the old english roast-beef! footnote: [footnote 25: suggested by the refusal of the poor-law commissioners to allow any charitable person to send in supplies of roast-beef and plum-pudding upon christmas day to the inmates of the union workhouses.] sketches here, there, and everywhere. by a. bird. a contested election at rome. there are, i doubt not, thousands and thousands subject to our most gracious and protesting queen--"gentlemen of england"--ay, and ladies too--"who live at home at ease," and fancy, poor simpletons! that the age of miracles is past. no such thing. once in every hundred years there is in the everlasting city a regular contested election in honour of the dead, each member being returned, as it were, to earth, in the character of saint, not as with the elect of this world, for words and promises of things to be, but for miracles done and recorded. the number of seats devoted to the saints is generally supposed to be three hundred and sixty-five, that is to say, one for every day in the year. and if we refer to the earliest period when first "the romans had a happy knack, of cooking up an almanack," we shall find that every seat was occupied. where then, it may be asked, are the addenda to be placed at the end of each century? the question is by no means easy of solution. there is, to be sure, leap-year, with its odd day in february; yet this would only do for a bit of a saint, and coming like a comet at stated intervals, i incline to think that when "the devil a saint would be," he takes that odd day to himself, and walks the earth with all the glories of his tail, an appendage which no true saint would acknowledge. but, as the french found room for "st. napoleon," even while alive, i can only suppose that the longest day will hold more than the shortest, and any day hold more than one saint. when st. nap was elected, it is clear some smaller saint must have been put in the background, and thus he remained--as we should say of an ex-minister--"out of place and out of favour," until the bourbons returned, and included the ex-saint in their own restoration. leaving, however, this knotty point to the pope and his cardinals, i come at once to st. peter's and the fact. it was in the merry month of may 1839 that i last entered that temple, alike unrivalled for its majesty and beauty--would that i had never seen it as i saw it then! the election was over, the chosen of one hundred years were decided upon, four new saints had been returned to earth; a fifth had been nominated, but after his claims had been duly canvassed, the votes were against him. an overwhelming majority declared that he had not performed sufficient miracles to be canonised, and his bones were doomed to rest in peace. not so the successful candidates; their names were entered in the day-book of the pope's elect, each saint and his miracle were put upon canvass, the likenesses were warranted, and the limner's art had done its best to show how saints in heaven were made by man on earth. there they were, only awaiting the ceremonies which were to confirm the intended honours, the chairing of themselves and deeds in effigy--(if thus we may speak of hanging those huge pictures on high)--the celebration of mass, the roaring of cannon from the castle of st. angelo--psalmody, such as rome alone can boast--processions wherein grandeur, littleness, gorgeous wealth, torches, and tinsel, struggle for mastery, yet form in the whole a most striking and impressive inconsistency. be our creed what it may, whether we approve or whether we condemn, our feelings are carried away by the feelings of the many, the thousands upon thousands who, with one accord, bare the head and bend the knee, when their prince of the whole christian world, their pope, "_nostra papa_," appears! jews, turks, and infidels must "off with their hat"--if they have one--but with the most rigid there is also an involuntary inclination to bend the knee. who, unmoved, can watch a roman procession wending its way towards the high altar, till it pauses beneath their holy of holies, the wondrous dome of st. peter's! a strange anomaly, i grant--venerable priests of christ, tottering beneath the weight of gold embroidered on their backs; cardinals, proud and stately, wearing their scarlet hats as knights who bore the helmet of the church; beautiful boys, with angel wings upon their shoulders; censers, waving clouds of incense, lending its perfume to the air, and, like a spirit loath to quit this lower world, wheeling, hovering, slowly rising in graceful circles of fantastic flight till it mingles with the sky, and is seen no more. "'tis gone!" and as it passed i caught the costume of the warlike swiss; the guards of him, the pope who preaches peace on earth. i saw their nodding plumes of raven black, with scarlet tuft--their glittering halberts of an age gone by--their ruffs, rosettes, their belts of buff (the perfection of a painter's picturesque), armed and covered in the house of god!--yes, this, and much untold, of that which forms a romish procession at rome, strange and anomalous though it be, is most striking and impressive as a whole. [illustration] the mere recollection has carried me with it, and turned aside for the moment the malediction i contemplated on the dressing up of st. peter's. would, i repeat, that i had never seen it! to gild the virgin gold were a venial blunder in comparison--it would still be gold, and look like gold; but to veil the majesty, the stern uncompromising beauty of st. peter's columns with flaunting silk, to ornament perfection with tinsel hangings and festoons, this was indeed a profanation in honour of the saints elect. st. peter's, with me, had been a passion from the moment i first looked upon its wondrous beauty: it was love, love at first sight, but growing with my growth--a passion, holy and enduring, such as can be only felt when we stand in the presence of fancied perfection. judge, then, of my horror when i saw this desecration!--but there is no blank so dark that we may not find a ray of light. i bless the saints for one thing-they taught me how to build a brace of angels, and in so doing they taught me the stupendous proportions of that temple, which, though built by human hands, has in it a sublimity which awes and humbles the proud heart of little man. nay, the very portraits of their very saints diverted my angry thoughts by teaching the self-same lesson. there was one--a monstrous ugly fellow--who, preparatory to his chairing, was left to lean against a column. the proportions of this miracle-worker were so gigantic, that i deemed it some mighty caricature, painted on the main-sail of a man-of-war, till, looking at his fellows raised to their proper elevation, they seemed in their oval frames but medallions stuck upon the walls! [illustration] the angel manufactory, however, was still more striking. to give effect to the intended ceremonies, the head decorator suggested a brace of angels, to be placed on each side of the nave of st. peter's, behind the altar. the lazy cardinals nodded assent, and the question was carried _nem. con._ they do all things well at rome in honour of the church, even their greatest follies are on a scale of grandeur--their fireworks, fountains, illuminations, are all unrivalled--so are their angels, when they make them. first, an able artist is employed to sketch a design, then able workmen to build, painters to paint, and lastly, robe-makers to clothe the naked. the construction is curious: a skeleton figure, after the late fashion of single-line figures, is prepared with a strong rod of iron, which is fixed into a large block of wood, and this may be termed the building foundation. the next step--oh! most anti-angelic notion! is to collect hay-bands (enough for a hay-market), and therewith to mould the limbs and body. it were vain to attempt, by words, to describe the ludicrous effect produced; but, by the aid of the foregoing cut, it may be conceived. good-bye to sublimity for that day! _omne ignotum pro magnifico_--it never answers to go behind the scenes; and if it be true that in some cases "ignorance is bliss," how much more truly do the latin words tell us that "ignorance is ever the key-stone to sublimity." it is true, that as i looked upon the gigantic saint, as yet unhung, and compared him with his fellows, the elect on high; as i watched this monster of miracles, raised by pulleys till he dwindled into a pretty miniature; as i saw the pigmy workmen wheeling the huge angels to their places,--it must be confessed that i had found "a sliding scale," which, in this case, answered admirably. it enabled me to measure the proportions of the stupendous pile which towered above me to judge of its most beautiful symmetry, with greater force and stronger conviction than i had ever felt whilst gazing on the children which support the holy water, the sweet babes with arms as thick as the thigh of man! that knowledge was interesting--the angel-making was amusing, but the solemn tone of mind suited to st. peter's was destroyed. in vain i stood before the lions of canova; the one which slept could not inspire the repose which breathed through the sleeping marble; the one which watched, the sleepless sentinel, guarding the ashes of the dead, even this could not scare the demon of ridicule that played on hallowed ground. i turned to the mosaics, those fadeless pictures which seem as painted for eternity; no, not these--not guido's archangel, that wondrous type of heavenly beauty in the form of man--of power to conquer with the will to do--not even this could tame the merry sin within me. i stood before that statue which frenzied with undying passion the priest who gazed upon its beauties--the emblem of "justice," but so lovely in its nakedness, that man, impure and imperfect, became a worshipper, and obliged the pope to hide justice from his children. the ridiculous prevailed; i smiled to think that the form as well as eyes of "_justice at rome_" must be hid from sight. and i laughed outright at woman's curiosity, when i thought how lady see ---prevailed upon the pope to lift the veil and show her the form which made a pygmalion of a priest! the demon was in me for the day; it had been raised by--to use a fashionable word--the desecration of the temple, and nothing could lay the evil spirit. i turned to my hotel, ordered horses for the morrow, and fled. my course was set for naples. as i traversed the pontine marshes, cheek by jowl with the sluggish stream which the pride of popes has wedded to the road and given to the traveller's eye, what a contrast did these waters, this cold, dark, silent chain of "_mal-aria_," present to the stream of life, the roar of cannon, the music, festival, and holiday, which fancy pictured in the eternal city! but the comparison was in favour of the waters; there is, thought i, at least some use in these, for, as they drag their weary length along, death, the tyrant, fettered and subdued, is borne on their course from plains where once his rule was absolute. filled with these reflections, and sometimes dreaming that i saw the captive monarch in a phantom ship, with skeleton crew--sometimes that i heard the sullen splash of muffled oars; thus dreaming and reflecting, the journey seemed short to naples; and there it was i chanced upon "a miracle of modern days," which, however, must be reserved until the omnibus shall start again. mrs. toddles. it is the cherished wish of our heart, more especially at the moment when we are entering upon a new-year, and opening a fresh account with time, to be at peace with all men; but col. talker--(_is_ his name talker or walker?)--has certainly done his utmost to uproot and scatter to the winds this pacific feeling. his conduct at the office, the day after our last publication, was extremely violent; and his threats intermingled with terrible oaths, such as "dash my buttons," "burn my wig," &c., were quite discreditable to him. and all on account of the dozen words we have said of _him_--for he is now cool enough on the score of mrs. t.'s supposed grievance. this is the way with all your gallant champions! we hope col. w. has not torn his shirt frill, nor injured his umbrella past repair. we hope too that he is not a confirmed duellist. [illustration] [illustration] trusting that we shall yet live to be on amicable terms with col. w., we shall now describe his gallant conduct in escorting mrs. toddles to bow, to spend their christmas eve in that favoured vicinity, her dear native place, which, it appears, she has been vainly endeavouring to reach; these last nine months. resolved however to have nothing to do with an "omnibus," they found out one of the old-fashioned stages, but, being too late (as usual!) to secure inside places, were compelled to go outside. mrs. t. and the colonel seated themselves very comfortably in the basket or dickey. scarcely however had they advanced on their journey beyond aldgate pump, when, lamentable to relate, the dickey, affected by old age or by a violent jolt, suddenly separated itself from the coach, and down it came crash with mrs. t. into the road; the gallant colonel springing to the roof as nimbly as a lamplighter. the feelings of both, as hamlet remarks, may be more easily conceived than described. happily however no serious injury was sustained by mrs. t. beyond a slight fracture of the bonnet, not likely to prove fatal to its shape; her dress cap too which she was carrying in paper was also a little crumpled, and there was a crash of something in her pocket which, she most positively alleged, was _not_ a bottle. colonel w., as soon as the coach could be stopped, descended and returned to the scene of the accident in time to snatch that lady from the risks to which her delicacy was exposed, which was shocked only to the extent of proclaiming a fact previously known perhaps to many, that she wore black stockings. we are truly happy to state that after a little delay they reached their place of destination together in perfect safety; and the very best security which we can offer to the friends of mrs. toddles that she suffered nothing from the untoward occurrence, is, that she was enabled in the course of the delightful evening which she spent, to take part in a cotillon with her friend the gallant colonel; and when they were last seen, they were dancing away gloriously together. sonnet to mrs. sarah toddles. though short thou art in stature, sarah dear, thou shalt not be looked over by the world;- nor though an antique bonnet thou dost wear over, perchance, a wig, where hair once curled! thy lightfoot is beneath the grassy mound, and thou wilt see thy heavisides no more,- loaded with lead, thy feet, by age, are found, and thy sides lean to what they were before:- child of a gunn! (that went off long ago)- lightfoot's and heaviside's surviving half!! relief of toddles!!! all thy friends well know thy worth, and say, without intent to chaff, "sarah will be, and is (though suitors crave) "a widow still,--and toddles to the grave!" v.d.l. postscript. mr. george cruikshank here concludes the first volume of his "omnibus," by wishing all his friends and readers a "happy new year." an arrangement entered into, a twelvemonth ago, with mr. harrison ainsworth, and now resumed, with a view to its being carried into effect on the 1st of february, prevents the re-appearance of the "omnibus" upon the plan of monthly numbers; but the estimation and success it has obtained, encourage him to pursue the object with which he started, by presenting his second volume in the form of an annual. that object was, to produce a fireside miscellany--here it is; and if he and his literary associates herein should meet the reader as agreeably in an annual, as in a monthly form, he trusts it will be [illustration: as broad as it's long.] * * * * * +------------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber notes: | | | | p.vi. '372' changed to '272' which is the correct page number. | | p.v. '144' changed to '124' which is the correct page number. | | p.16. 'filagree' changed to 'filigree'. | | p.21. 'naratives' changed to 'narratives'. | | p.43. 'though' changed to 'thought'. | | p.49. 'suffiicently' changed to 'sufficiently' | | p.84. 'defeaning' changed to 'deafening'. | | p.184. 'waiscoat' changed to 'waistcoat'. | | p.195. 'pourtrayed' changed to 'portrayed'. | | p.224. 'duetts' changed to 'duets'. | | p.226. 'neighbourhoood' changed to 'neighbourhood'. | | p.250. 'propects' changed to 'prospects'. | | p.259. 'jemina' changed to 'jemima'. | | p.278. 'riggled' changed to 'wriggled'. | | p.292. 'your are' changed to 'you are'. | | fixed various punctuation. | | superscripts are shown as: c^k. | | uderscores surround _italic text_ in this file. | | | +------------------------------------------------------------------+ 